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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Yellow Streak, by Valentine Williams
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: The Yellow Streak
+
+Author: Valentine Williams
+
+Release Date: November 5, 2003 [eBook #9974]
+[Most recently updated: October 14, 2021]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+Produced by: Juliet Sutherland, Dave Morgan and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW STREAK ***
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+The Yellow Streak
+
+by Valentine Williams
+
+
+Contents
+
+ CHAPTER I. THE MASTER OF HARKINGS
+ CHAPTER II. AT TWILIGHT
+ CHAPTER III. A DISCOVERY
+ CHAPTER IV. BETWEEN THE DESK AND THE WINDOW
+ CHAPTER V. IN WHICH BUDE LOOKS AT ROBIN GREVE
+ CHAPTER VI. THE LETTER
+ CHAPTER VII. VOICES IN THE LIBRARY
+ CHAPTER VIII. ROBIN GOES TO MARY
+ CHAPTER IX. MR. MANDERTON
+ CHAPTER X. A SMOKING CHIMNEY
+ CHAPTER XI. “... SPEED THE PARTING GUEST!”
+ CHAPTER XII. MR. MANDERTON IS NONPLUSSED
+ CHAPTER XIII. JEEKES
+ CHAPTER XIV. A SHEET OF BLUE PAPER
+ CHAPTER XV. SHADOWS
+ CHAPTER XVI. THE INTRUDER
+ CHAPTER XVII. A FRESH CLUE
+ CHAPTER XVIII. THE SILENT SHOT
+ CHAPTER XIX. MR. MANDERTON LAYS HIS CARDS ON THE TABLE
+ CHAPTER XX. THE CODE KING
+ CHAPTER XXI. A WORD WITH MR. JEEKES
+ CHAPTER XXII. THE MAN WITH THE YELLOW FACE
+ CHAPTER XXIII. TWO’S COMPANY ...
+ CHAPTER XXIV. THE METAMORPHOSIS OF MR. SCHULZ
+ CHAPTER XXV. THE READING OF THE RIDDLE
+ CHAPTER XXVI. THE FIGURE IN THE DOORWAY
+ CHAPTER XXVII. AN INTERRUPTION FROM BEYOND
+ CHAPTER XXVIII. THE DEATH OF HARTLEY PARRISH
+
+
+
+
+THE YELLOW STREAK
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+THE MASTER OF HARKINGS
+
+
+Of all the luxuries of which Hartley Parrish’s sudden rise to wealth
+gave him possession, Bude, his butler, was the acquisition in which he
+took the greatest delight and pride. Bude was a large and
+comfortable-looking person, triple-chinned like an archdeacon,
+bald-headed except for a respectable and saving edging of dark down,
+clean-shaven, benign of countenance, with a bold nose which to the
+psychologist bespoke both ambition and inborn cleverness. He had a
+thin, tight mouth which in itself alone was a symbol of discreet
+reticence, the hall-mark of the trusted family retainer.
+
+Bude had spent his life in the service of the English aristocracy. The
+Earl of Tipperary, Major-General Lord Bannister, the Dowager
+Marchioness of Wiltshire, and Sir Herbert Marcobrunner, Bart., had in
+turn watched his gradual progress from pantry-boy to butler. Bude was a
+man whose maxim had been the French saying, “_Je prends mon bien où je
+le trouve_.”
+
+In his thirty years’ service he had always sought to discover and draw
+from those sources of knowledge which were at his disposal. From
+MacTavish, who had supervised Lord Tipperary’s world-famous gardens, he
+had learnt a great deal about flowers, so that the arrangement of the
+floral decorations was always one of the features at Hartley Parrish’s
+_soigné_ dinner-parties. From Brun, the unsurpassed _chef_, whom Lord
+Bannister had picked up when serving with the Guards in Egypt, he had
+gathered sufficient knowledge of the higher branches of the cuisine to
+enable Hartley Parrish to leave the arrangement of the menu in his
+butler’s hands.
+
+Bude would have been the first to admit that, socially speaking, his
+present situation was not the equal of the positions he had held. There
+was none of the staid dignity about his present employer which was
+inborn in men like Lord Tipperary or Lord Bannister, and which Sir
+Herbert Marcobrunner, with the easy assimilative faculty of his race,
+had very successfully acquired. Below middle height, thick-set and
+powerfully built, with a big head, narrow eyes, and a massive chin,
+Hartley Parrish, in his absorbed concentration on his business, had no
+time for the acquisition or practice of the Eton manner.
+
+It was characteristic of Parrish that, seeing Bude at a dinner-party at
+Marcobrunner’s, he should have engaged him on the spot. It took Bude a
+week to get over his shock at the manner in which the offer was made.
+Parrish had approached him as he was supervising the departure of the
+guests. Waving aside the footman who offered to help him into his
+overcoat, Parrish had asked Bude point-blank what wages he was getting.
+Bude mentioned the generous remuneration he was receiving from Sir
+Herbert Marcobrunner, whereupon Parrish had remarked:
+
+“Come to me and I’ll double it. I’ll give you a week to think it over.
+Let my secretary know!”
+
+After a few discreet enquiries, Bude, faithful to his maxim, had
+accepted Parrish’s offer. Marcobrunner was furiously angry, but, being
+anxious to interest Parrish in a deal, sagely kept his feelings to
+himself. And Bude had never regretted the change. He found Parrish an
+exacting, but withal a just and a generous master, and he was not long
+in realizing that, as long as he kept Harkings, Parrish’s country place
+where he spent the greater part of his time, running smoothly according
+to Parrish’s schedule, he could count on a life situation.
+
+The polish of manner, the sober dignity of dress, acquired from years
+of acute observation in the service of the nobility, were to be seen
+as, at the hour of five, in the twilight of this bleak autumn
+afternoon, Bude moved majestically into the lounge-hall of Harkings and
+leisurely pounded the gong for tea.
+
+The muffled notes of the gong swelled out brazenly through the silent
+house. They echoed down the softly carpeted corridors to the library
+where the master of the house sat at his desk. For days he had been
+immersed in the figures of the new issue which Hornaway’s, the vast
+engineering business of his creation, was about to put on the market.
+They reverberated up the fine old oak staircase to the luxurious Louis
+XV bedroom, where Lady Margaret Trevert lay on her bed idly smiling
+through an amusing novel. They crashed through the thickly padded baize
+doors leading to the servants’ hall, where, at sixpence a hundred,
+Parrish’s man, Jay, was partnering Lady Margaret’s maid against Mrs.
+Heever, the housekeeper, and Robert, the chauffeur, at a friendly game
+of bridge. And they even boomed distantly into the far-away
+billiard-room and broke into the talk which Robin Greve was having with
+Mary Trevert.
+
+“Damn!” exclaimed Greve savagely, as the distant gonging came to his
+ears.
+
+“It’s the gong for tea,” said Mary demurely.
+
+She was sitting on one of the big leather sofas lining the long room.
+Robin, as he gazed down at her from where he stood with his back
+against the edge of the billiard-table, thought what an attractive
+picture she made in the half-light.
+
+The lamps over the table were lit, but the rest of the room was almost
+dark. In that lighting the thickly waving dark hair brought out the
+fine whiteness of the girl’s skin. There was love, and a great desire
+for love, in her large dark eyes, but the clear-cut features, the
+well-shaped chin, and the firm mouth, the lips a little full, spoke of
+ambition and the love of power.
+
+“I’ve been here three whole days,” said Robin, “and I’ve not had two
+words with you alone, Mary. And hardly have I got you to myself for a
+quiet game of pills when that rotten gong goes ...”
+
+“I’m sorry you’re disappointed at missing your game,” the girl replied
+mischievously, “but I expect you will be able to get a game with Horace
+or one of the others after tea ...”
+
+Robin kicked the carpet savagely.
+
+“You know perfectly well I don’t want to play billiards ...”
+
+He looked up and caught the girl’s eye. For a fraction of a second he
+saw in it the expression which every man at least once in his life
+looks to see in the eyes of one particular woman. In the girl’s
+dark-blue eyes fringed with long black lashes he saw the dumb appeal,
+the mute surrender, which, as surely as the white flag on the
+battlements in war, is the signal of capitulation in woman.
+
+But the expression was gone on the instant. It passed so swiftly that,
+for a second, Robin, seeing the gently mocking glance that succeeded
+it, wondered whether he had been mistaken.
+
+But he was a man of action—a glance at his long, well-moulded head, his
+quick, wide-open eye, and his square jaw would have told you that—and
+he spoke.
+
+“It’s no use beating about the bush,” he said. “Mary, I’ve got so fond
+of you that I’m just miserable when you’re away from me ...”
+
+“Oh, Robin, please ...”
+
+Mary Trevert stood up and remained standing, her head turned a little
+away from him, a charming silhouette in her heather-blue shooting-suit.
+
+The young man took her listless hand.
+
+“My dear,” he said, “you and I have been pals all our lives. It was
+only at the front that I began to realize just how much you meant to
+me. And now I know I can’t do without you. I’ve never met any one who
+has been to me just what you are. And, Mary, I must have you as my wife
+...”
+
+The girl remained motionless. She kept her face averted. The room
+seemed very still.
+
+“Oh, Robin, please ...” she murmured again.
+
+Resolutely the young man put an arm about her and drew her to him.
+Slowly, reluctantly, she let him have his way. But she would not look
+at him.
+
+“Oh, my dear,” he whispered, kissing her hair, “don’t you care a
+little?”
+
+She remained silent.
+
+“Won’t you look at me, Mary?”
+
+There was a hint of huskiness in his voice. He raised her face to his.
+
+“I saw in your eyes just now that you cared for me,” he whispered; “oh,
+my Mary, say that you do!”
+
+Then he bent down and kissed her. For a brief instant their lips met
+and he felt the caress of the girl’s arm about his neck.
+
+“Oh, Robin!” she said.
+
+That was all.
+
+But then she drew away.
+
+Reluctantly the man let her go. The colour had faded from his cheeks
+when she looked at him again as he stood facing her in the twilight of
+the billiard-room.
+
+“Robin, dear,” she said, “I’m going to hurt you.”
+
+The young man seemed to have had a premonition of what was coming, for
+he betrayed no sign of surprise, but remained motionless, very erect,
+very pale.
+
+“Dear,” said the girl with a little despairing shrug, “it’s hopeless!
+We can’t afford to marry!”
+
+“Not yet, I know,” said Robin, “but I’m getting on well, Mary, and in
+another year or two ...”
+
+The girl looked down at the point of her little brogue shoe.
+
+“I don’t know what you will think of me,” she said, “but I can’t accept
+... I can’t face ... I ...”
+
+“You can’t face the idea of being the wife of a man who has his way to
+make. Is that it?”
+
+The voice was rather stern.
+
+The girl looked up impulsively.
+
+“I can’t, Robin. I should never make you happy. Mother and I are as
+poor as church-mice. All the money in the family goes to keep Horace in
+the Army and pay for my clothes.”
+
+She looked disdainfully at her pretty suit.
+
+“All this,” she went on with a little hopeless gesture indicating her
+tailor-made, “is Mother’s investment. No, no, it’s true ... I can tell
+you as a friend, Robin, dear, we are living on our capital until I have
+caught a rich husband ...”
+
+“Oh, my dear,” said Robin softly, “don’t say things like that ...”
+
+The girl laughed a little defiantly.
+
+“But it’s true,” she answered. “The war has halved Mother’s income and
+there’s nothing between us and bankruptcy but a year or so ... unless I
+get married!”
+
+Her voice trembled a little and she turned away.
+
+“Mary,” said the young man hoarsely, “for God’s sake, don’t do that!”
+
+He moved a step towards her, but she drew back.
+
+“It’s all right,” she said with the tears glistening wet on her face,
+and dabbed at her eyes with her tiny handkerchief, “but, oh, Robin boy,
+why couldn’t you have held your tongue?”
+
+“I suppose I had no right to speak ...” the young man began.
+
+The girl sighed.
+
+“I oughtn’t to say it ... now,” she said slowly, and looked across at
+Robin with shining eyes, “but, Robin dear, I’m ... I’m glad you did!”
+
+She paused a moment as though turning something over in her mind.
+
+“I’ve ... I’ve got something to tell you, Robin,” she began. “No, stay
+where you are! We must be sensible now.”
+
+She paused and looked at him.
+
+“Robin,” she said slowly, “I’ve promised to marry somebody else ...”
+
+There was a moment’s silence.
+
+“Who is it?” Robin asked in a hard voice.
+
+The girl made no answer.
+
+“Who is it? Do I know him?”
+
+Still the girl was silent, but she gave a hardly perceptible nod.
+
+“Not ...? No, no, Mary, it isn’t true? It can’t be true?”
+
+The girl nodded, her eyes to the ground.
+
+“It’s a secret still,” she said. “No one knows but Mother. Hartley
+doesn’t want it announced yet!”
+
+The sound of the Christian name suddenly seemed to infuriate Greve.
+
+“By God!” he cried, “it shan’t be! You must be mad, Mary, to think of
+marrying a man like Hartley Parrish. A fellow who’s years older than
+you, who thinks of nothing but money, who stood out of the war and made
+a fortune while men of his own age were doing the fighting for him!
+It’s unthinkable ... it’s ... it’s damnable to think of a gross,
+ill-bred creature like Parrish ...”
+
+“Robin!” the girl cried, “you seem to forget that we’re staying in his
+house. In spite of all you say he seems to be good enough for you to
+come and stay with ...”
+
+“I only came because you were to be here. You know that perfectly well.
+I admit one oughtn’t to blackguard one’s host, but, Mary, you must see
+that this marriage is absolutely out of the question!”
+
+The girl began to bridle up,
+
+“Why?” she asked loftily.
+
+“Because ... because Parrish is not the sort of man who will make you
+happy ...”
+
+“And why not, may I ask? He’s very kind and very generous, and I
+believe he likes me ...”
+
+Robin Greve made a gesture of despair.
+
+“My dear girl,” he said, trying to control himself to speak quietly,
+“what do you know about this man? Nothing. But there are beastly
+stories circulating about his life ...”
+
+Mary Trevert laughed cynically.
+
+“My dear old Robin,” she said, “they tell stories about every bachelor.
+And I hardly think you are an unbiassed judge ...”
+
+Robin Greve was pacing up and down the floor.
+
+“You’re crazy, Mary,” he said, stopping in front of her, “to dream you
+can ever be happy with a man like Hartley Parrish. The man’s a ruthless
+egoist. He thinks of nothing but money and he’s out to buy you just
+exactly as you ...”
+
+“As I am ready to sell myself!” the girl echoed. “And I _am_ ready,
+Robin. It’s all very well for you to stand there and preach ideals at
+me, but I’m sick and disgusted at the life we’ve been leading for the
+past three years, hovering on the verge of ruin all the time, dunned by
+tradesmen and having to borrow even from servants ... yes, from old
+servants of the family ... to pay Mother’s bridge debts. Mother’s a
+good sort. Father spent all her money for her and she was brought up in
+exactly the same helpless way as she brought up me. I can do absolutely
+nothing except the sort of elementary nursing which we all learnt in
+the war, and if I don’t marry well Mother will have to keep a
+boarding-house or do something ghastly like that. I’m not going to
+pretend that I’m thinking only of her, because I’m not. I can’t face a
+long engagement with no prospects except castles in Spain. I don’t mean
+to be callous, Robin, but I expect I am naturally hard. Hartley Parrish
+is a good sort. He’s very fond of me, and he will see that Mother lives
+comfortably for the rest of her life. I’ve promised to marry him
+because I like him and he’s a suitable match. And I don’t see by what
+right you try and run him down to me behind his back! If it’s jealousy,
+then it shows a very petty spirit!”
+
+Robin Greve stepped close up to Mary Trevert. His eyes were very angry
+and his jaw was set very square.
+
+“If you are determined to sell yourself to the highest bidder,” he
+said, “I suppose there’s no stopping you. But you’re making a mistake.
+If Parrish were all you claim for him, you might not repent of his
+marriage so long as you did not care for somebody else. But I know you
+love me, and it breaks my heart to see you blundering into everlasting
+unhappiness ...”
+
+“At least Hartley will be able to keep me,” the girl flashed out.
+Directly she had spoken she regretted her words.
+
+A red flush spread slowly over Robin Greve’s face.
+
+Then he laughed drily.
+
+“You won’t be the first woman he’s kept!” he retorted, and stamped out
+of the billiard-room.
+
+The girl gave a little gasp. Then she reddened with anger.
+
+“How dare he?” she cried, stamping her foot; “how dare he?”
+
+She sank on the lounge and, burying her face in her hands, burst into
+tears.
+
+“Oh, Robin, Robin, dear!” she sobbed—incomprehensibly, for she was a
+woman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+AT TWILIGHT
+
+
+There is a delicious snugness, a charming lack of formality, about the
+ceremony of afternoon tea in an English country-house—it is much too
+indefinite a rite to dignify it by the name of meal—which makes it the
+most pleasant reunion of the day. For English country-house parties
+consist, for the most part, of a succession of meals to which the
+guests flock the more congenially as, in the interval, they have
+contrived to avoid one another’s companionship.
+
+And so, scarcely had the last reverberation of Bude’s measured gonging
+died away than the French window leading from the lounge-hall on to the
+terrace was pushed open and two of Hartley Parrish’s guests emerged
+from the falling darkness without into the pleasant comfort of the
+firelit room.
+
+They were an oddly matched pair. The one was a tubby little man with
+short bristly grey hair and a short bristly grey moustache to match.
+His stumpy legs looked ridiculous in his baggy golf knickers of rough
+tweed, which he wore with gaiters extending half-way up his short,
+stout calves. As he came in, he slung off the heavy tweed
+shooting-cloak he had been wearing and placed it with his Homburg hat
+on a chair.
+
+This was Dr. Romain, whose name thus written seems indecently naked
+without the string of complementary initials indicative of the honours
+and degrees which years of bacteriological research had heaped upon
+him. His companion was a tall, slim, fair-haired young man, about as
+good a specimen of the young Englishman turned out by the English
+public school as one could find. He was extremely good-looking with a
+proud eye and finely chiselled features, but the suggestion of youth in
+his face and figure was countered by a certain poise, a kind of latent
+seriousness which contrasted strangely with the general cheery
+_insouciance_ of his type.
+
+A soldier would have spotted the symptoms at once, “Five years of war!”
+would have been his verdict—that long and strange entry into life of so
+many thousands of England’s manhood which impressed the stamp of
+premature seriousness on all those who came through. And Captain Sir
+Horace Trevert, Bart., D.S.O., had gone from his famous school straight
+into a famous regiment, had won his decoration before he was
+twenty-one, and been twice wounded into the bargain.
+
+“Where’s everybody?” queried the doctor, rubbing his hands at the
+blazing log-fire.
+
+“Robin and Mary went off to play billiards,” said the young man, “and I
+left old Parrish after lunch settling down for an afternoon’s work in
+the library ...”
+
+He crossed the room to the fire and stood with his back to the flame.
+
+“What a worker that man is!” ejaculated the doctor. “He had one of his
+secretaries down this morning with a car full of portfolios,
+blue-prints, specifications, and God knows what else. Parrish polished
+the whole lot off and packed the fellow back to London before mid-day.
+Some of Hornaway’s people who were waiting went in next, and he was
+through with them by lunch-time!”
+
+Trevert wagged his head in admiration.
+
+“And he told me he wanted to have a quiet week-end!” he said. “That’s
+why he has no secretary living in the house.”
+
+“A quiet week-end!” repeated Romain drily. “Ye gods!”
+
+“He’s a marvel for work,” said the young man.
+
+“He certainly is,” replied the doctor. “He’s done wonders with
+Hornaway’s. When he took the place over at the beginning of the war,
+they were telling me, it was a little potty concern making toy air guns
+or lead soldiers or something of the sort. And they never stop coining
+money now, it seems. Parrish must be worth millions ...”
+
+“Lucky devil!” said Trevert genially.
+
+“Ah!” observed the doctor sententiously, “but he’s had to work for it,
+mark you! He’s had the most extraordinary life, they tell me. He was at
+one period of his career a bartender on the Rand, a man was saying at
+the club the other day. But most of his life he’s lived in Canada, I
+gather. He was telling us the other evening, before you and Mary came
+down, that he was once a brakeman on the Canadian Pacific Railway. He
+said he invested all his savings in books on engineering and read them
+in his brakeman’s van on his trips across the Dominion. Ah! he’s a fine
+fellow!”
+
+He lowered his voice discreetly.
+
+“And a devilish good match, eh, Horace?”
+
+The young man flushed slightly.
+
+“Yes,” he said unwillingly.
+
+“A dam’ good match for somebody,” urged the doctor with a malicious
+twinkle in his eye.
+
+“Here, Doc,” said Horace, suddenly turning on him, “you stick to your
+bugs and germs. What do you know about matchmaking, anyway?”
+
+Dr. Romain chuckled.
+
+“We bacteriologists are trained observers. One learns a lot watching
+the life and habits of the bacillus, Horace, my boy. And between
+ourselves, Parrish would be a lucky fellow if ...”
+
+Trevert turned to him. His face was quite serious, and there was a
+little touch of hauteur in his voice. He was the 17th Baronet.
+
+“My dear Doc,” he said, “aren’t you going a bit fast? Parrish is a very
+good chap, but one knows nothing about him ...”
+
+Sagely the doctor nodded his grizzled head.
+
+“That’s true,” he agreed. “He appears to have no relatives and nobody
+over here seems to have heard of him before the war. A man was saying
+at the Athenaeum the other day ...”
+
+Trevert touched his elbow. Bude had appeared, portly, imperturbable,
+bearing a silver tray set out with the appliances for tea.
+
+“Bude,” cried Trevert, “don’t tell me there are no tea-cakes again!”
+
+“On the contrairey, sir,” answered the butler in the richly sonorous
+voice pitched a little below the normal register which he employed
+abovestairs, “the cook has had her attention drawn to it. There are
+tea-cakes, sir!”
+
+With a certain dramatic effect—for Bude was a trifle theatrical in
+everything he did—he whipped the cover off a dish and displayed a
+smoking pile of deliciously browned scones.
+
+“Bude,” said Trevert, “when I’m a Field Marshal, I’ll see you get the
+O.B.E. for this!”
+
+The butler smiled a nicely regulated three-by-one smile, a little
+deprecatory as was his wont. Then, like a tank taking a corner, he
+wheeled majestically and turned to cross the lounge. To reach the green
+baize door leading to the servants’ quarters he had to cross the outer
+hall from which led corridors on the right and left. That on the right
+led to the billiard-room; that on the left to the big drawing-room with
+the library beyond.
+
+As Bude reached the great screen of tooled Spanish leather which
+separated a corner of the lounge from the outer hall, Robin Greve came
+hastily through the glass door of the corridor leading from the
+billiard-room. The butler with a pleasant smile drew back a little to
+allow the young man to pass, thinking he was going into the lounge for
+tea.
+
+“Tea is ...” he began, but abruptly ended the sentence on catching
+sight of the young man’s face. For Robin, habitually so self-possessed,
+looked positively haggard. His face was set and there was a weary look
+in his eyes. The young man appeared so utterly different from his
+wonted self that Bude fairly stared at him.
+
+But Robin, without paying the least attention either to the butler or
+to the sound of voices in the lounge, strode across the outer hall and
+disappeared through the glass door of the corridor leading to the great
+drawing-room and the library.
+
+Bude stood an instant gazing after him in perplexity, then moved across
+the hall to the servants’ quarters.
+
+In the meantime in the lounge the little doctor snapped the case of his
+watch and opined that he wanted his tea.
+
+“Where on earth has everybody got to? What’s become of Lady Margaret? I
+haven’t seen her since lunch....”
+
+That lady answered his question by appearing in person.
+
+Lady Margaret was tall and hard and glittering. Like so many
+Englishwomen of good family, she was so saturated with the traditions
+of her class that her manner was almost indistinguishable from that of
+a man. Well-mannered, broadminded, wholly cynical, and absolutely
+fearless, she went through life exactly as though she were following a
+path carefully taped out for her by a suitably instructed Providence.
+Somewhere beneath the mask of smiling indifference she presented so
+bravely to a difficult world, she had a heart, but so carefully did she
+hide it that Horace had only discovered it on a certain grey November
+morning when he had started out for the first time on active service.
+For ever afterwards a certain weighing-machine at Waterloo Station, by
+which he had had a startling vision of his mother standing with heaving
+bosom and tear-stained face, possessed in his mind the attributes of
+some secret and sacred shrine.
+
+But now she was cool and well-gowned and self-contained as ever.
+
+“What a perfectly dreadful day!” she exclaimed in her pleasant,
+well-bred voice. “Horace, you must positively go and see Henry
+What’s-his-name in the Foreign Office and get me a passport for Cannes.
+The weather in England in the winter is incredibly exaggerated!”
+
+“At least,” said the doctor, rubbing his back as he warmed himself at
+the fire, “we have fuel in England. Give me England, climate and all,
+but don’t take away my fire. The sun doesn’t shine on the Riviera at
+night, you know!”
+
+Lady Margaret busied herself at the tea-table with its fine Queen Anne
+silver and dainty yellow cups. It was the custom at Harkings to serve
+tea in the winter without other illumination than the light of the
+great log-fire that spat and leaped in the open hearth. Beyond the
+semi-circle of ruddy light the great lounge was all in darkness, and
+beyond that again was the absolute stillness of the English country on
+a winter’s evening.
+
+And so with a gentle clatter of teacups and the accompaniment of
+pleasantly modulated voices they sat and chatted—Lady Margaret, who was
+always surprising in what she said, the doctor who was incredibly
+opinionated, and young Trevert, who like all of the younger generation
+was daringly flippant. He was airing his views on what he called “Boche
+music” when he broke off and cried:
+
+“Hullo, here’s Mary! Mary, you owe me half a crown. Bude has come up to
+scratch and there are tea-cakes after ... but, I say, what on earth’s
+the matter?”
+
+The girl had come into the room and was standing in the centre of the
+lounge in the ruddy glow of the fire. Her face was deathly pale and she
+was shuddering violently. She held her little cambric handkerchief
+crushed up into a ball to her lips. Her eyes were fixed, almost glazed,
+like one who walks in a trance.
+
+She stood like that for an instant surveying the group—Lady Margaret, a
+silver tea-pot in one hand, looking at her with uplifted brows. Horace,
+who in his amazement had taken a step forward, and the doctor at his
+side scrutinizing her beneath his shaggy eyebrows.
+
+“My dear Mary “—it was Lady Margaret’s smooth and pleasant voice which
+broke the silence—“whatever is the matter? Have you seen a ghost!”
+
+The girl swayed a little and opened her lips as if to speak. A log,
+crashing from the fire into the grate, fell upon the silence of the
+darkening room. It seemed to break the spell.
+
+“Hartley!”
+
+The name came hoarsely from the girl. Everybody, except Lady Margaret,
+sprang to his feet It was the doctor who spoke first.
+
+“Miss Mary,” he said, “you seem frightened, what ...”
+
+His voice was very soothing.
+
+Mary Trevert made a vague gesture towards the shadows about the
+staircase.
+
+“There ... in the library ... he’s got the door locked ... there was a
+shot ...”
+
+Then she suddenly screamed aloud.
+
+In a stride both the doctor and her brother were by her side. But she
+motioned them away.
+
+“I’m frightened about Hartley,” she said in a low voice, “please go at
+once and see what ... that shot ... and he doesn’t answer!”
+
+“Come on, Doctor!”
+
+Horace Trevert was halfway to the big screen separating the lounge from
+the outer hall. As he passed the bell, he pressed it.
+
+“Send Bude to us, Mother, when he comes, please!” he called as he and
+the doctor hurried away.
+
+Lady Margaret had risen and stood, one arm about her daughter, on the
+Persian rug spread out before the cheerful fire. So the women stood in
+the firelight in Hartley Parrish’s house, surrounded by all the
+treasures which his wealth had bought, and listened to the footsteps
+clattering away through the silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+A DISCOVERY
+
+
+Harkings was not a large house. Some three hundred years ago it had
+been a farm, but in the intervening years successive owners had so
+altered it by pulling down and building on, that, when it passed into
+the possession of Hartley Parrish, little else than the open fireplace
+in the lounge remained to tell of the original farm. It was a queer,
+rambling house of only two stories whose elongated shape was
+accentuated by the additional wing which Hartley Parrish had built on.
+
+For the decoration of his country-house, Parrish had placed himself
+unreservedly in the hands of the firm entrusted with the work. Their
+architect was given _carte blanche_ to produce a house of character out
+of the rather dingy, out-of-date country villa which Harkings was when
+Hartley Parrish, attracted by the view from the gardens, first
+discovered it.
+
+The architect had gone to his work with a zest. He had ripped up walls
+and ceilings and torn down irrational matchwood partitions, discovering
+some fine old oak wainscot and the blackened roof-beams of the original
+farmstead. In the upshot he transformed Harkings into a very fair
+semblance of a late Jacobean house, fitted with every modern
+convenience and extremely comfortable. Furnished throughout with
+genuine “period” furniture, with fine dark oak panelling and parquet
+floors, it was altogether picturesque. Neither within nor without, it
+is true, would a connoisseur have been able to give it a date.
+
+But that did not worry Hartley Parrish. He loved a bargain and he had
+bought the house cheap. It was situated in beautiful country and was
+within easy reach by car of his town-house in St. James’s Square where
+he lived for the greater part of the week. Last but not least Harkings
+was the casket enshrining a treasure, the realization of a lifelong
+wish. This was the library, Parrish’s own room, designed by himself and
+furnished to his own individual taste.
+
+It stood apart from the rest of the house at the end of the wing which
+Parrish had constructed. The wing consisted of a single ground floor
+and contained the drawing-room—which was scarcely ever used, as both
+Parrish and his guests preferred the more congenial surroundings of the
+lounge—and the library. A long corridor panelled in oak led off the
+hall to the new wing. On to this corridor both the drawing-room and the
+library gave. Halfway down the corridor a small passage ran off. It
+separated the drawing-room from the library and ended in a door leading
+into the gardens at the back of the house.
+
+It was to the new wing that Horace Trevert and Dr. Romain now hastened.
+They hurried across the hall, where the big lamp of dulled glass threw
+a soft yellow light, and entered the corridor through the heavy oak
+door which shut it off from the hall. The corridor was wrapt in
+silence. Halfway down, where the small passage ran to the garden door,
+the electric light was burning.
+
+Horace Trevert ran down the corridor ahead of the doctor and was the
+first to reach the library door. He knocked sharply, then turned the
+handle. The door was locked.
+
+“Hartley!” he cried and rapped again. “Ha-a-artley! Open the door! It’s
+me, Horace!”
+
+Again he knocked and rattled the handle. Not a sound came from the
+locked room. There was an instant’s silence. Horace and the doctor
+exchanged an interrogatory look.
+
+From behind the closed door came the steady ticking of a clock. The
+silence was so absolute that both men heard it.
+
+Then the door at the end of the corridor was flung open and Bude
+appeared. He was running at a quick ambling trot, his heavy tread
+shaking the passage.
+
+“Oh? sir,” he cried, “whatever is it? What has happened?”
+
+Horace spoke quickly, incisively.
+
+“Something’s happened to Mr. Parrish, Bude,” he said. “The door’s
+locked and he doesn’t answer. We’ll have to break the door down.”
+
+Bude shook his head.
+
+“It’s solid oak, sir,” he began.
+
+Then he raised his hand.
+
+“Pardon me, gentlemen,” he said, as though an idea had struck him. “If
+we were to go out by the garden door here, we might get in through the
+window. We could break the glass if needs be!”
+
+“That’s it!” exclaimed Horace. “Come on, Doctor!”
+
+He dashed down the corridor towards the little passage. The doctor laid
+a hand on Bude’s arm.
+
+“One of us had better stay here,” he said with a meaning glance at the
+closed door.
+
+The butler raised an affrighted face to his.
+
+“Go with Sir Horace, Bude,” said the doctor. “I’ll stay!”
+
+Outside in the gardens of Harkings it was a raw, damp evening,
+pitch-black now, with little gusts of wind which shook the naked bushes
+of the rosery. The garden door led by a couple of shallow steps on to a
+gravel path which ran all along the back of the house. The path
+extended right up to the wall of the house. On the other side it
+flanked the rosery.
+
+The glass door was banging to and fro in the night wind as Bude, his
+coat-collar turned up, hurried out into the darkness. The library,
+which formed the corner of the new wing, had two windows, the one
+immediately above the gravel path looking out over the rosery, the
+other round the corner of the house giving on the same path, beyond
+which ran a high hedge of clipped box surrounding the so-called
+Pleasure Ground, a plot of smooth grass with a sundial in the centre.
+
+A glow of light came from the library window, and in its radiance Bude
+saw silhouetted the tall, well-knit figure of young Trevert. As the
+butler came up, the boy raised something in his hand and there was a
+crash of broken glass.
+
+The curtains were drawn, but with the breaking of the window they began
+to flap about. With the iron grating he had picked up from the drain
+below the window young Trevert smashed the rest of the glass away, then
+thrust an arm through the empty window-frame, fumbling for the
+window-catch.
+
+“The catch is not fastened,” he whispered, and with a resolute thrust
+he pushed the window up. The curtains leapt up wildly, revealing a
+glimpse of the pleasant, book-lined room. Both men from the darkness
+without saw Parrish’s desk littered with his papers and his habitual
+chair beyond it, pushed back empty.
+
+Trevert turned an instant, a hand on the window-sill.
+
+“Bude,” he said, “there’s no one there!”
+
+“Best look and see, sir,” replied the butler, his coat-tails flapping
+in the wind.
+
+Trevert hoisted himself easily on to the window-sill, knelt there for
+an instant, then thrust his legs over the sill and dropped into the
+room. As he did so he stumbled, cried aloud.
+
+Then the heavy grey curtains were flung back and the butler saw the
+boy’s face, rather white, at the open window.
+
+“My God,” he said slowly, “he’s dead!”
+
+A moment later Dr. Romain, waiting in the corridor, heard the key turn
+in the lock of the library door. The door was flung open. Horace
+Trevert stood there, silhouetted in a dull glow of light from the room.
+He was pointing to the open window, beneath which Hartley Parrish lay
+on his back motionless.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+BETWEEN THE DESK AND THE WINDOW
+
+
+Hartley Parrish’s library was a splendid room, square in shape, lofty
+and well proportioned. It was lined with books arranged in shelves of
+dark brown oak running round the four walls, but sunk level with them
+and reaching up to a broad band of perfectly plain white plasterwork.
+
+It was a cheerful, comfortable, eminently modern room, half library,
+half office. The oak was solid, but uncompromisingly new. The great
+leather armchairs were designed on modern lines—for comfort rather than
+for appearance. There were no pictures; but vases of chrysanthemums
+stood here and there about the room. A dictaphone in a case was in a
+corner, but beside it was a little table on which were set out some
+rare bits of old Chelsea. There was also a gramophone, but it was
+enclosed in a superb case of genuine old black-and-gold lacquer. The
+very books in their shelves carried on this contrast of business with
+recreation. For while one set of shelves contained row upon row of
+technical works, company reports, and all manner of business reference
+books bound in leather, on another were to be found the vellum-bound
+volumes of the Kelmscott Press.
+
+A sober note of grey or mole colour was the colour scheme of the room.
+The heavy pile carpet which stretched right up to the walls was of this
+quiet neutral shade: so were the easy-chairs, and the colour of the
+heavy curtains, which hung in front of the two high windows, was in
+harmony with the restful decorative scheme of the room.
+
+The massive oaken door stood opposite the window overlooking the
+rosery—the window through which Horace Trevert had entered. Parrish’s
+desk was in front of this window, between it and the door in
+consequence. By the other window, which, as has been stated, looked out
+on the clipped hedge surrounding the Pleasure Ground, was the little
+table with the Chelsea china, the dictaphone, and one of the
+easy-chairs. The centre of the room was clear so that nothing lay
+between the door and the carved mahogany chair at the desk. Here, as
+they all knew, Parrish was accustomed to sit when working, his back to
+the door, his face to the window overlooking the rosery.
+
+The desk stood about ten feet from the window. On it was a large brass
+lamp which cast a brilliant circle of light upon the broad flat top of
+the desk with its orderly array of letter-trays, its handsome
+silver-edged blotter and silver and tortoise-shell writing
+appurtenances. By the light of this lamp Dr. Romain, looking from the
+doorway, saw that Hartley Parrish’s chair was vacant, pushed back a
+little way from the desk. The rest of the room was wrapt in unrevealing
+half-light.
+
+“He’s there by the window!”
+
+Horace was whispering to the doctor. Romain strode over to the desk and
+picked up the lamp. As he did so, his eyes fell upon the pale face of
+Hartley Parrish. He lay on his back in the space between the desk and
+the window. His head was flung back, his eyes, bluish-grey,—the narrow,
+rather expressionless eyes of the successful business man,—were wide
+open and fixed in a sightless stare, his rather full mouth, with its
+clean-shaven lips, was rigid and stern. With the broad forehead, the
+prominent brows, the bold, aggressive nose, and the square bony jaw, it
+was a fighter’s face, a fine face save for the evil promise of that
+sensuous mouth. So thought the doctor with the swift psychological
+process of his trade.
+
+From the face his gaze travelled to the body. And then Romain could not
+repress an involuntary start, albeit he saw what he had half expected
+to see. The fleshy right hand of Hartley Parrish grasped convulsively
+an automatic pistol. His clutching index finger was crooked about the
+trigger and the barrel was pressed into the yielding pile of the
+carpet. His other hand with clawing fingers was flung out away from the
+body on the other side. One leg was stretched out to its fullest extent
+and the foot just touched the hem of the grey window curtains. The
+other leg was slightly drawn up.
+
+The doctor raised the lamp from the desk and, dropping on one knee,
+placed it on the ground beside the body. With gentle fingers he
+manipulated the eyes, opened the blue serge coat and waistcoat which
+Parrish was wearing. As he unbuttoned the waistcoat, he laid bare a
+dark red stain on the breast of the fine silk shirt. He opened shirt
+and under-vest, bent an ear to the still form, and then, with a little
+helpless gesture, rose to his feet.
+
+“Dead?” queried Trevert.
+
+Romain nodded shortly.
+
+“Shot through the heart!” he said.
+
+“He looked so ... so limp,” the boy said, shrinking back a little, “I
+thought he was dead. But I never thought old Hartley would have done a
+thing like that ...”
+
+The doctor pursed up his lips as if to speak. But he remained silent
+for a moment. Then he said:
+
+“Horace, the police must be informed. We can do that on the telephone.
+This room must be left just as it is until they come. I can do nothing
+more for poor Hartley. And we shall have to tell the others. I’d better
+do that myself. I wonder where Greve is? I haven’t seen him all the
+afternoon. As a barrister he should be able to advise us about—er, the
+technicalities: the police and all that ...”
+
+Rapid footsteps reverberated down the corridor. Robin Greve appeared at
+the door. The fat and frightened face of Bude appeared over his
+shoulder.
+
+“Good God, Doctor!” he cried, “what’s this Bude tells me?”
+
+The doctor cleared his throat.
+
+“Our poor friend is dead, Greve,” he said.
+
+“But how? How?”
+
+Greve stood opposite the doctor in the centre of the library. He had
+switched on the light at the door as he had come in, and the room was
+flooded with soft light thrown by concealed lamps set around the
+cornice of the ceiling.
+
+“Look!” responded the doctor by way of answer and stepped aside to let
+the young man come up to the desk. “He has a pistol in his hand!”
+
+Robin Greve took a step forward and stopped dead. He gazed for an
+instant without speaking on the dead face of his host and rival.
+
+“Suicide!”
+
+It was an affirmation rather than a question, and the little doctor
+took it up. He was not a young man and the shock and the excitement
+were beginning to tell on his nerves.
+
+“I am not a police surgeon,” he said with some asperity; “in fact, I
+may say I have not seen a dead body since my hospital days. I ... I ...
+know nothing about these things. This is a matter for the police. They
+must be summoned at once. Where’s Bude?”
+
+Robin Greve turned quickly.
+
+“Get on to the police station at Stevenish at once, Bude,” he ordered.
+“Do you know the Inspector?”
+
+“Yessir,” the butler answered in a hollow voice. His hands were
+trembling violently, and he seemed to control himself with difficulty.
+“Mr. Humphries, sir!”
+
+“Well, ring him up and tell him that Mr. Parrish ... Hullo, what do all
+these people want?”
+
+There was a commotion at the door. Frightened faces were framed in the
+doorway. Outside there was the sound of a woman whimpering. A tall,
+dark young man in a tail coat came in quickly. He stopped short when he
+saw the solemn faces of the group at the desk. It was Parrish’s man,
+Jay. He stepped forward to the desk and in a frightened sort of way
+peered at the body as it lay on the floor.
+
+“Oh, sir,” he said breathlessly, addressing Greve, “what ever has
+happened to Mr. Parrish? It can’t be true ...”
+
+Greve put his hand on the young man’s shoulder.
+
+“I’m sorry to say it is true, Jay,” he answered.
+
+“He was very good to us all,” the valet replied in a broken voice. He
+remained by the desk staring at the body in a dazed fashion.
+
+“Who is that crying outside?” Greve demanded. “This is no place for
+women ...”
+
+“It’s Mrs. Heever, the housekeeper,” Bude answered.
+
+“Well, she must go back to her room. Send all those servants away. Jay,
+will you see to it? And take care that Lady Margaret and Miss Trevert
+don’t come in here, either.”
+
+“Sir Horace is with them, sir, in the lounge,” said Jay and went out.
+
+“I’ll go to them. I think I’d better,” exclaimed the doctor. “I shall
+be in the lounge when they want me. A dreadful affair! Dreadful!”
+
+The little doctor bustled out, leaving Greve and the butler alone in
+the room with the mortal remains of Hartley Parrish lying where he had
+fallen on the soft grey carpet.
+
+“Now, Bude,” said Greve incisively, “get on to the police at once.
+You’d better telephone from the servant’s hall. I’ll have a look round
+here in the meantime!”
+
+Bude stood for an instant irresolute. He glanced shrewdly at the young
+man.
+
+“Go on,” said Robin quickly; “what are you waiting for, man? There’s no
+time to lose.”
+
+Slowly the butler turned and tiptoed away, his ungainly body swaying
+about as he stole across the heavy pile carpet. He went out of the
+room, closing the door softly behind him. He left Greve sunk in a
+reverie at the desk, gazing with unseeing eyes upon the dead face of
+the master of Harkings.
+
+That sprawling corpse, the startled realization of death stamped for
+ever in the wide, staring eyes, was indeed a subject for meditation.
+There, in the midst of all the evidences of Hartley Parrish’s meteoric
+rise to affluence and power, Greve pondered for an instant on the
+strange pranks which Fate plays us poor mortals.
+
+Parrish had risen, as Greve and all the world knew, from the bottom
+rung of the ladder. He had had a bitter fight for existence, had made
+his money, as Greve had heard, with a blind and ruthless determination
+which spoke of the stern struggle of other days. And Robin, who, too,
+had had his own way to make in the world, knew how the memory of
+earlier struggles went to sweeten the flavour of ultimate success.
+
+Yet here was Hartley Parrish, with his vast financial undertakings, his
+soaring political ambitions, his social aims which, Robin realized
+bitterly, had more than a little to do with his project for marrying
+Mary Trevert, stricken down suddenly, without warning, in the very
+heyday of success.
+
+“Why should he have done it?” he whispered to himself, “why, my God,
+why?”
+
+But the mask-like face at his feet, as he bent to scan it once more,
+gave no answer to the riddle. Determination, ambition, was portrayed on
+the keen, eager face even in death.
+
+With a little hopeless gesture the young barrister glanced round the
+room. His eye fell upon the desk. He saw a neat array of letter-trays,
+costly silver and tortoise-shell writing appointments, a couple of
+heavy gold fountain pens, and an orderly collection of pencils. Lying
+flat on the great silver-edged blotter was a long brown envelope which
+had been opened. Propped up against the large crystal ink-well was a
+letter addressed simply “Miss Mary Trevert” in Hartley Parrish’s big,
+vigorous, and sprawling handwriting.
+
+The letter to Mary Trevert, Robin did not touch. But he picked up the
+long brown envelope. On the back it bore a printed seal. The envelope
+contained a document and a letter. At the sight of it the young man
+started. It was Hartley Parrish’s will. The letter was merely a
+covering note from Mr. Bardy, of the firm of Jerringham, Bardy and
+Company, a well-known firm of solicitors, dated the previous evening.
+Robin replaced letter and document in their envelope without reading
+them.
+
+“So that’s it!” he murmured to himself. “Suicide? But why?”
+
+All the letter-trays save one were empty. In this was a little heap of
+papers and letters. Robin glanced through them. There were two or three
+prospectuses, a notice of a golf match, a couple of notes from West End
+tradesmen enclosing receipts and an acknowledgement from the bank.
+There was only one personal letter—a business communication from a
+Rotterdam firm. Robin glanced at the letter. It was typewritten on
+paper of a dark slatey-blue shade. It was headed, “ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK
+& Co., GENERAL IMPORTERS, ROTTERDAM,” and dealt with steel shipments.
+
+Robin dropped the letter back into the tray and turned to survey the
+room. It was in perfect order. Except for the still form lying on the
+floor and the broken pane of glass in the window, there was nothing to
+tell of the tragedy which had been enacted there that afternoon. There
+were no papers to hint at a crisis save the prosaic-looking envelope
+containing the will, and Parrish’s note for Mary. The waste-paper
+basket, a large and business-like affair in white wicker, had been
+cleared.
+
+Robin walked across to the fireplace. The flames leapt eagerly about a
+great oak log which hissed fitfully on top of the glowing coals
+contained in the big iron fire-basket. The grate was bare and tidy. As
+the young man looked at the fire, a little whirl of blue smoke whisked
+out of the wide fireplace and eddied into the room. Robin sniffed. The
+room smelt smoky. Now he remembered he had noticed it as he came in.
+
+He stood an instant gazing thoughtfully at the blazing and leaping
+fire. He threw a quick glance at the window where the curtains tossed
+fitfully in the breeze coming through the broken pane. Suddenly he
+stepped quickly across the room and, lifting the reading-lamp from the
+table, bore it over to the window which he scrutinized narrowly by its
+light. Then he dropped on one knee beside the dead body, placing the
+lamp on the floor beside him.
+
+He lifted the dead man’s left hand and narrowly examined the nails.
+Without touching the right hand which clasped the revolver, he studied
+its nails too. He rose and took the gold-mounted reading-glass from the
+desk and scrutinized the nails of both hands through the glass.
+
+Then he rose to his feet again and, having replaced lamp and
+reading-glass on the desk, stood there thoughtfully, his brown hands
+clasped before him. His eyes wandered from the desk to the window and
+from the window to the corpse. Then he noticed on the carpet between
+the dead body and the desk a little ball of slatey-blue paper. He bent
+down and picked it up. He had begun to unroll it when the library door
+was flung open. Robin thrust the scrap of paper in his pocket and
+turned to face the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+IN WHICH BUDE LOOKS AT ROBIN GREVE
+
+
+The library door opened. A large, square-built, florid man in the
+braided uniform of a police inspector stood on the threshold of the
+room. Beside him was Bude who, with an air of dignity and respectful
+mourning suitably blended, waved him into the room.
+
+“The—ahem!—body is in here, Mr. Humphries, sir!”
+
+Inspector Humphries stepped quickly into the room. A little countryfied
+in appearance and accent, he had the careful politeness, the measured
+restraint, and the shrewd eye of the typical police officer. In thirty
+years’ service he had risen from village constable to be Inspector of
+county police. Slow to anger, rather stolid, and with an excellent
+heart, he had a vein of shrewd common sense not uncommonly found in
+that fast disappearing species, the English peasant.
+
+He nodded shortly to Greve, and with a tread that shook the room strode
+across to where Hartley Parrish was lying dead. In the meantime a
+harassed-looking man with a short grey beard, wearing a shabby frock
+coat, had slipped into the room behind the Inspector. He approached
+Greve.
+
+“Dr. Romain?” he queried, peering through his gold spectacles, “the
+butler said ...”
+
+“No, my name is Greve,” answered Robin. “I am staying in the house.
+This is Dr. Romain.”
+
+He motioned to the door. Dr. Romain came bustling into the room.
+
+“Glad to see you here so promptly, Inspector,” he said. “A shocking
+business, very. Is this the doctor? I am Dr. Romain ...”
+
+Dr. Redstone bowed with alacrity.
+
+“A great privilege, sir,” he said staidly. “I have followed your
+work....”
+
+But the other did not let him finish.
+
+“Shot through the heart ... instantaneous death ... severe haemorrhage
+... the pistol is there ... in his hand. A man with everything he
+wanted in the world ... I can’t understand it. ’Pon my soul, I can’t!”
+
+The Inspector, who had been kneeling by the corpse, motioned with his
+head to the village doctor. Dr. Redstone went to him and began a
+cursory examination of the body. The Inspector rose.
+
+“I understand from the butler, gentlemen,” he said, “that it was Miss
+Trevert, a lady staying in the house, who heard the shot fired. I
+should like to see her, please. And you, sir, are you a relation of
+...”
+
+Greve, thus addressed, hastily replied.
+
+“Only a friend, Inspector. I am staying in the house. I am a barrister.
+Perhaps I may be able to assist you ...”
+
+Humphries shot a slow, shrewd glance at him from beneath his shaggy
+blond eyebrows.
+
+“Thank you, sir, much obliged, I’m sure. Now”—he thrust a hand into his
+tunic and produced a large leather-bound notebook—“do you know anything
+as would throw a light on this business?”
+
+Greve shook his head.
+
+“He seemed perfectly cheerful at lunch. He left the dining-room
+directly after he had taken his coffee.”
+
+“Where did he go?”
+
+“He came here to work. He told us at lunch that he was going to shut
+himself up in the library for the whole afternoon as he had a lot of
+work to get through.”
+
+The Inspector made a note or two in his book. Then he paused
+thoughtfully tapping the end of his pencil against his teeth.
+
+“It was Miss Trevert, you say, who found the body?”
+
+“No,” Greve replied. “Her brother, Sir Horace Trevert. It was Miss
+Trevert who heard the shot fired.”
+
+“The door was locked, I think?”
+
+“On the inside. But here is Sir Horace Trevert. He will tell you how he
+got through the window and discovered the body.”
+
+Horace Trevert gave a brief account of his entry into the library.
+Again the Inspector scribbled in his notebook.
+
+“One or two more questions, gentlemen, please,” he said, “and then I
+should wish to see Miss Trevert. Firstly, who saw Mr. Hartley Parrish
+last: and at what time?”
+
+Horace Trevert looked at Greve.
+
+“It would be when he left us after lunch, wouldn’t it?” he said.
+
+“Certainly, certainly,” Dr. Romain broke in. “He left us all together
+in the dining-room, you, Horace and Robin and Lady Margaret and Mary
+... Miss Trevert and her mother, you know,” he added by way of
+explanation to the Inspector.
+
+“And he went straight to the library?”
+
+“Straight away, Mr. Humphries, sir,” broke in Bude. “Mr. Parrish
+crossed me in the hall and gave me particular instructions that he was
+not to be disturbed.”
+
+“That was at what time?”
+
+“About two-thirty, sir.”
+
+“Then you were the last person to see him before ...”
+
+“Why, no ... that is, unless ...”
+
+The butler hesitated, casting a quick glance round his audience.
+
+“What do you mean?” rapped out the Inspector, looking up from his
+notebook. “Did anybody else see Mr. Parrish in spite of his orders?”
+
+Bude was silent. He was looking at Greve.
+
+“Come on,” said Humphries sternly. “You heard my question? What makes
+you think anybody else had access to Mr. Parrish before the shot was
+heard?”
+
+Bude made a little resigned gesture of the hands.
+
+“Well, sir, I thought ... I made sure that Mr. Greve ...”
+
+There was a moment’s tense silence.
+
+“Well?” snapped Humphries.
+
+“I was going to say I made certain that Mr. Greve was going to Mr.
+Parrish in the library to tell him tea was ready. Mr. Greve passed me
+in the hall and went down the library corridor just after I had served
+the tea.”
+
+All eyes turned to Robin.
+
+“It’s perfectly true,” he said. “I went out into the gardens for a
+mouthful of fresh air just before tea. I left the house by the side
+door off the corridor here. I didn’t go to the library, though. It is
+an understood thing in this house that no one ever disturbs Mr. Parrish
+when he ...”
+
+He broke off sharply.
+
+“My God, Mary,” he cried, “you mustn’t come in here!”
+
+All turned round at his loud exclamation. Mary Trevert stood in the
+doorway. Dr. Romain darted forward.
+
+“My dear,” he said soothingly, “you mustn’t be here ...”
+
+Passively she let him lead her into the corridor. The Inspector
+continued his examination.
+
+“At what time did you come along this corridor, sir?” he asked Robin.
+
+“It was not long after the tea gong went,” answered Robin, “about ten
+minutes past five, I should say ...”
+
+“And you heard nothing?”
+
+Robin shook his head.
+
+“Absolutely nothing,” he replied. “The corridor was perfectly quiet. I
+stepped out into the grounds, went for a turn round the house, but it
+was raining, so I came in almost at once.”
+
+“At what time was that?”
+
+“When I came in ... oh, about two or three minutes later, say about a
+quarter past five.”
+
+Humphries turned to Horace Trevert.
+
+“What time was it when Miss Trevert heard the shot?”
+
+Horace puckered up his brow.
+
+“Well,” he said, “I don’t quite know. We were having tea. It wasn’t
+much after five—I should say about a quarter past.”
+
+“Then the shot that Miss Trevert heard would have been fired just about
+the time that you, sir,” he turned to Robin, “were coming in from your
+stroll.”
+
+“Somewhere about that time, I should say!” Robin answered rather
+thoughtfully.
+
+“Did you hear it?” queried the Inspector.
+
+“No,” said Robin.
+
+“But surely you must have been at or near the side door at the time as
+you were coming in ...”
+
+“I came in by the front door,” said Robin, “on the other side of the
+house ...”
+
+Very carefully the Inspector closed his notebook, thrust the pencil
+back in its place along the back, fastened the elastic about the book,
+and turned to Horace Trevert.
+
+“And now, sir, if I might speak to Miss Trevert alone for a minute ...”
+
+“I say, though,” expostulated Horace, “my sister’s awfully upset, you
+know. Is it absolutely necessary?”
+
+“Aye, sir, it is!” said the Inspector. “But there’s no need for me to
+see her in here. Perhaps in some other room ...”
+
+“The drawing-room is next to this,” the butler put in; “they’d be nice
+and quiet in there, Sir Horace.”
+
+The Inspector acquiesced. Dr. Redstone drew him aside for a whispered
+colloquy.
+
+The Inspector came back to Robin and Horace.
+
+“The doctor would like to have the body taken upstairs to Mr. Parrish’s
+room,” he said. “He wishes to make a more detailed examination if Dr.
+Romain would help him. If one of you gentlemen could give orders about
+this ... I have two officers outside who would lend a hand. And this
+room must then be shut and locked. Sergeant Harris!” he called.
+
+“Sir!”
+
+A stout sergeant appeared at the library door.
+
+“As soon as the body has been removed, you will lock the room and bring
+the key to me. And you will return here and see that no one attempts to
+get into the room. Understand?”
+
+“Yessir!”
+
+“Inspector!”
+
+Robin Greve called Inspector Humphries as the latter was preparing to
+follow Bude to the drawing-room.
+
+“Mr. Parrish seems to have written a note for Miss Trevert,” he said,
+pointing at the desk. “And in that envelope you will find Mr. Parrish’s
+will. I discovered it there on the desk just before you arrived!”
+
+Again the Inspector shot one of his swift glances at the young man. He
+went over to the desk, shook the document and letter from their
+envelope, glanced at them, and replaced them.
+
+“I don’t rightly know that this concerns me, gentlemen,” he said
+slowly. “I think I’ll just take charge of it. And I’ll give Miss
+Trevert her letter.”
+
+Taking the two envelopes, he tramped heavily out of the room.
+
+Then in a little while Bude and Jay and two bucolic-looking policemen
+came to the library to move the body of the master of Harkings. Robin
+stood by and watched the little procession pass slowly with silent feet
+across the soft pile carpet and out into the corridor. But his thoughts
+were not with Parrish. He was haunted by the look which Mary Trevert
+had given him as she had stood for an instant at the library door, a
+look of fear, of suspicion. And it made his heart ache.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+THE LETTER
+
+
+The great drawing-room of Harkings was ablaze with light. The cluster
+of lights in the heavy crystal chandelier and the green-shaded electric
+lamps in their gilt sconces on the plain white-panelled walls coldly
+lit up the formal, little-used room with its gilt furniture, painted
+piano, and huge marble fireplace.
+
+This glittering Louis Seize environment seemed altogether too much for
+the homely Inspector. Whilst waiting for Mary Trevert to come to him,
+he tried several attitudes in turn. The empty hearth frightened him
+away from the mantelpiece, the fragile appearance of a gilt settee
+decided him against risking his sixteen stone weight on its silken
+cushions, and the vastness of the room overawed him when he took up his
+position in the centre of the Aubusson carpet. Finally he selected an
+ornate chair, rather more solid-looking than the rest, which he drew up
+to a small table on the far side of the room. There he sat down, his
+large red hands spread out upon his knees in an attitude of singular
+embarrassment.
+
+But Mary Trevert set him quickly at his ease when presently she came to
+him. She was pale, but quite self-possessed. Indeed, the effort she had
+made to regain her self-control was so marked that it would have
+scarcely escaped the attention of the Inspector, even if he had not had
+a brief vision of her as she had stood for that instant at the library
+door, pale, distraught, and trembling. He was astonished to find her
+cool, collected, almost business-like in the way she sat down, motioned
+him to his seat, and expressed her readiness to tell him all she knew.
+
+The phrases he had been laboriously preparing—“This has been a bad
+shock for you, ma’am”; “You will forgive me, I’m sure, ma’am, for
+calling upon you at a moment such as this”—died away on his lips as
+Mary Trevert said:
+
+“Ask me any questions you wish, Inspector. I will tell you everything I
+can.”
+
+“That’s very good of you, ma’am, I’m sure,” answered the Inspector,
+unstrapping his notebook, “and I’ll try and not detain you long. Now,
+then, tell me what you know of this sad affair ...”
+
+Mary Trevert plucked an instant nervously at her little cambric
+handerchief in her lap. Then she said:
+
+“I went to the library from the billiard-room ...”
+
+“A moment,” interposed the Inspector. “What time was that?”
+
+“A little after five. The tea gong had gone some time. I was going to
+the library to tell Mr. Parrish that tea was ready ...”
+
+Mr. Humphries made a note. He nodded to show he was listening.
+
+“I crossed the hall and went down the library corridor. I knocked on
+the library door. There was no reply. Then I heard a shot and a sort of
+thud.”
+
+Despite her effort to remain calm, the girl’s voice shook a little. She
+made a little helpless gesture of her hands. A diamond ring she was
+wearing on her finger caught the light and blazed for an instant.
+
+“Then I got frightened. I ran back along the corridor to the lounge
+where the others were and told them.”
+
+“When you knocked at the door, you say there was no reply. I suppose,
+now, you tried the handle first.”
+
+“Oh, yes ...”
+
+“Then Mr. Parrish would have heard the two sounds? The turning of the
+handle and then the knocking on the door? That’s so, isn’t it?”
+
+“Yes, I suppose so ...”
+
+“Yet you say there was no reply?”
+
+“No. None at all.”
+
+The Inspector jotted a word or two in his notebook as it lay open flat
+upon the table.
+
+“The shot, then, was fired immediately after you had knocked? Not while
+you were knocking?”
+
+“No. I knocked and waited, expecting Mr. Parrish to answer. Instead of
+him answering, there came this shot ...”
+
+“I see. And after the shot was fired there was a crash?”
+
+“A sort of thud—like something heavy falling down.”
+
+“And you heard no groan or cry?”
+
+The girl knit her brows for a moment.
+
+“I ... I ... was frightened by the shot. I ... I ... don’t seem able to
+remember what happened afterwards. Let me think ... let me think ...”
+
+“There, there,” said the Inspector paternally, “don’t upset yourself
+like this. Just try and think what happened after you heard the shot
+fired ...”
+
+Mary Trevert shuddered, one slim white hand pressed against her cheek.
+
+“I do remember now,” she said, “there _was_ a cry. It was more like a
+sharp exclamation ...”
+
+“And then you heard this crash?”
+
+“Yes ...”
+
+The girl had somewhat regained her self-possession. She dabbed her eyes
+with her handkerchief quickly as though ashamed of her weakness.
+
+“Now,” said Humphries, clearing his throat, as though to indicate that
+the conversation had changed, “you and Lady Margaret Trevert knew Mr.
+Parrish pretty well, I believe, Miss Trevert. Have you any idea why he
+should have done this thing?”
+
+Mary Trevert shook her dark head rather wearily.
+
+“It is inconceivable to me ... to all of us,” she answered.
+
+“Do you happen to know whether Mr. Parrish had any business worries?”
+
+“He always had a great deal of business on hand and he has had a great
+deal to do lately over some big deal.”
+
+“What was it, do you know?”
+
+“He was raising fresh capital for Hornaway’s—that is the big
+engineering firm he controls ...”
+
+“Do you know if he was pleased with the way things were shaping?”
+
+“Oh, yes. He told me last night that everything would be finished this
+week. He seemed quite satisfied.”
+
+The Inspector paused to make a note.
+
+Then he thrust a hand into the side-pocket of his tunic and produced
+Hartley Parrish’s letter.
+
+“This,” he said, eyeing the girl as he handed her the letter, “may
+throw some light on the affair!”
+
+Open-eyed, a little surprised, she took the plain white envelope from
+his hand and gazed an instant without speaking, on the bold sprawling
+address—
+
+_“Miss Mary Trevert.”_
+
+
+“Open it, please,” said the Inspector gently.
+
+The girl tore open the envelope. Humphries saw her eyes fill, watched
+the emotion grip her and shake her in her self-control so that she
+could not speak when, her reading done, she gave him back the letter.
+
+Without asking her permission, he took the sheet of fine, expensive
+paper with its neat engraved heading and postal directions, and read
+Hartley Parrish’s last message.
+
+My dear [it ran], I signed my will at Bardy’s office yesterday, and he
+sent it back to me to-day. Just this line to let you know you are
+properly provided for should anything happen to me. I wanted to fix
+things so that you and Lady Margaret would not have to worry any more.
+I just had to _write_. I guess you understand why.
+
+
+H.
+
+
+There was a long and impressive silence while the Inspector
+deliberately read the note. Then he looked interrogatively at the girl.
+
+“We were engaged, Inspector,” she said. “We were to have been married
+very soon.”
+
+A deep flush crept slowly over Mr. Humphries’s florid face and spread
+into the roots of his tawny fair hair.
+
+“But what does he mean by ‘having to write’?” he asked.
+
+The girl replied hastily, her eyes on the ground.
+
+“Mr. Parrish was under the impression that ... that ... without his
+money I should not have cared for him. That is what he means ...”
+
+“You knew he had provided for you in his will?”
+
+“He told me several times that he intended to leave me everything. You
+see, he has no relatives!”
+
+“I see!” said the Inspector in a reflective voice.
+
+“Had he any enemies, do you know? Anybody who would drive him to a
+thing like this?”
+
+The girl shook her head vehemently.
+
+“No!”
+
+The monosyllable came out emphatically. Again the Inspector darted one
+of his quick, shrewd glances at the girl. She met his scrutiny with her
+habitual serene and candid gaze. The Inspector dropped his eyes and
+scribbled in his book.
+
+“Was his health good?”
+
+“He smoked far too much,” the girl said, “and it made him rather nervy.
+But otherwise he never had a day’s illness in his life.”
+
+Humphries ran his eye over the notes he had made.
+
+“There is just one more question I should like to ask you, Miss
+Trevert,” he said, “rather a personal question.”
+
+Mary Trevert’s hands twisted the cambric handkerchief into a little
+ball and slowly unwound it again. But her face remained quite calm.
+
+“About your engagement to Mr. Parrish ... when did it take place?”
+
+“Some days ago. It has not yet been announced.”
+
+The Inspector coughed.
+
+“I was only wondering whether, perhaps, Mr. Parrish was not quite ...
+whether he was, maybe, a little disturbed in his mind about the
+engagement ...”
+
+The girl hesitated. Then she said firmly:
+
+“Mr. Parrish was perfectly happy about it. He was looking forward to
+our being married in the spring.”
+
+Mr. Humphries shut his notebook with a snap and rose to his feet.
+
+“Thank you very much, ma’am,” he said with a little formal bow. “If you
+will excuse me now. I have the doctor to see again and there’s the
+Coroner to be warned ...”
+
+He bowed again and tramped towards the door with a tread that made the
+chandelier tinkle melodiously.
+
+The door closed behind him and his heavy footsteps died away along the
+corridor. Mary Trevert had risen to her feet calm and impassive. But
+when he had gone, her bosom began to heave and a spasm of pain shot
+across her face. Again the tears welled up in her eyes, brimmed over
+and stole down her cheeks.
+
+“If I only _knew!_” she sobbed, “if I only _knew!_”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+VOICES IN THE LIBRARY
+
+
+The swift tragedy of the winter afternoon had convulsed the
+well-organized repose of Hartley Parrish’s household. Nowhere had his
+master grasp of detail been seen to better advantage than in the
+management of his country home. Overwhelmed with work though he
+constantly was, accustomed to carry his business and often part of his
+business staff to Harkings with him for the week-ends, there was never
+the least confusion about the house. The methodical calm of Harkings
+was that of a convent.
+
+Hartley Parrish was wont to say that he paid his butler and housekeeper
+well to save himself from worry. It was rather to ensure his orders
+being punctiliously and promptly carried out. His was the mind behind
+the method which ensured that meals were punctually served and trains
+at Stevenish Station never missed.
+
+But it was into a house in turmoil that Mary Trevert stepped when she
+left the drawing-room and passed along the corridor to go to her room.
+Doors slammed and there was the heavy thud of footsteps on the floor
+above. The glass door leading into the gardens was open, as Mary passed
+it, swinging in the gusts of cold rain. In the gardens without there
+was a confused murmur of voices and the flash of lanterns.
+
+In the hall a knot of servants were gossiping in frightened whispers
+with a couple of large, rather bovine country constables who,
+bareheaded, without their helmets, which they held under their arms,
+looked curiously undressed.
+
+The whispers died away as Mary crossed the hall. All eyes followed her
+with interest as she went. It was as though an echo of her talk with
+the Inspector had by some occult means already spread through the
+little household. Through the half-open green baize door leading to the
+servants’ quarters some unseen person was bawling down the telephone in
+a heated controversy with the exchange about a long-distance call to
+London. And but an hour since, the girl reflected sadly, as she mounted
+the oaken staircase, the house had been wrapt in its wonted evening
+silence in response to that firm and dominating personality who had
+passed out in the gloom of the winter twilight.
+
+When, about six months before, Mary and her mother had begun to be
+regular visitors at Harkings, Hartley Parrish had insisted on giving
+Mary a boudoir to herself. This, in response to a chance remark of
+Mary’s in admiration of a Chinese room she had seen at a friend’s
+house, Parrish had had decorated in the Chinese style with black walls
+and black-and-gold lacquer furniture. The room had been transformed
+from a rather prosaic morning-room with old oak and chintz in the space
+of three days as a surprise for Mary. She remembered now how Parrish
+had left her to make the discovery of the change for herself. She loved
+colour and line, and the contrast between this quaint and delightful
+room with her rather shabby bedroom in her mother’s small house in
+Brompton had made this surprise one of the most delightful she had ever
+experienced.
+
+She rang the bell and sat down listlessly in a charmingly lacquered
+Louis Seize armchair in front of the log-fire blazing brightly in the
+fireplace. She was conscious that a great disaster had overtaken her,
+but only dimly conscious. For more poignantly than this dull sense of
+tragedy she was aware of a great aching at her heart, and her thoughts,
+after hovering over the events of the afternoon, settled down upon her
+talk that afternoon ... already how far off it seemed ... with Robin
+Greve in the library.
+
+Robin had always been her hero. She could see him now in the glow of
+the fire as he had been when in the holidays he had come and snatched
+her away from a home already drab and difficult for a matinée and an
+orgy of cream cakes at Gunter’s afterwards. He was then a long, slim,
+handsome boy of irrepressible spirits and impulsive generosity which
+usually left him, after the first few days of his holidays, in a state
+of lamentable impecuniosity. All their lives, it seemed to her, they
+had been friends, but with no stronger feeling between them until
+Robin, having joined the Army on the outbreak of war, had come to say
+good-bye on being ordered to France.
+
+But by that time money troubles at home with which, as it seemed to
+her, she had been surrounded all her life, had grown so pressing that,
+apart from Lady Margaret’s reiterated counsels, she herself had come to
+recognize that a suitable marriage was the only way out of their
+ever-increasing embarrassment.
+
+She and Robin, she recalled with a feeling of relief, had never
+discussed the matter. He, too, had understood and had sailed for France
+without seeking to take advantage of the circumstance.
+
+Outside in the black night a car throbbed. Footsteps crunched the
+gravel beneath her window. The sounds brought her back to the present
+with a sudden pang. She began to think of Hartley Parrish. All her life
+she had been so very poor that, until she had met this big, vigorous,
+intensely vital man, she had never known what a lavish command of money
+meant. Hartley Parrish did things in a big way. If he wanted a thing he
+bought it, as he had bought Bude, as he had bought a car he had seen
+standing outside a Pall Mall club and admired. He had rooted the owner
+out, bade him name his price, and had paid it, there and then, by
+cheque, and driven Mary off to a lawn tennis tournament at Queen’s,
+hugely delighted by her bewilderment.
+
+She did not love him. She could never have learnt to love him. There
+was a gleeful zest in his enjoyment of his money, an ostentatious
+parade of his riches which repelled her. And there was a look in his
+face, those narrow eyes, that hard mouth, which revealed to her womanly
+intuition a ruthlessness which she guessed he kept for his business.
+But she liked him, especially his reverent and chivalrous devotion to
+her, and the thought that his dominating and vital personality was
+extinguished for ever made her conscious of a great void in her life.
+
+And now she was rich. Hartley Parrish’s idea of “proper provision” for
+her, she knew, meant wealth for her beyond anything she had ever
+dreamed. The perpetual debasing struggle with poverty which she and her
+mother had carried on for years was a thing of the past. Money meant
+freedom, freedom to live ... and to love.
+
+She stretched her hands out to the blaze. Was she free to love? What
+had driven Hartley Parrish to suicide? Or who? She went over in her
+mind her interview with Robin Greve in the billiard-room. He had spoken
+of other women in connection with Hartley Parrish. Had he used that
+knowledge to threaten his rival? What had Robin done after he had left
+her that afternoon with his final taunt?
+
+She felt the blood rise to her cheeks as she thought of it. Mary
+Trevert had all the pride of her ancient race. The recollection of that
+taunt galled her. Her loyalty to the man from whom she had received
+nothing but chivalry, whose fortune was to banish a hideous nightmare
+from her life, rose up in arms. What had Robin done? She must know the
+truth ...
+
+A tap came at the door. Bude appeared.
+
+“I think you rang, Miss,” he said in his quiet, deep voice. “I was with
+the Inspector, Miss, and I couldn’t come before. Was there
+anything?...”
+
+The girl turned in her chair.
+
+“Come in and shut the door, Bude,” she said. “I want to speak to you.”
+
+The butler obeyed and came over to where she sat. He seemed ill at ease
+and rather apprehensive.
+
+“Bude,” said the girl, “I want you to tell me why you were certain that
+Mr. Greve was going to Mr. Parrish in the library when he passed you in
+the hall this afternoon!”
+
+The butler smoothed his hands down his trousers in embarrassment.
+
+“I thought he ... Mr. Greve ... would be sure to be going to fetch Mr.
+Parrish in to tea, Miss ...” he replied, eyeing the girl anxiously.
+
+Mary Trevert continued gazing into the fire.
+
+“You know it is a rule in this house, Bude,” she said, “that Mr.
+Parrish is never disturbed in the library ...”
+
+The butler changed his position uneasily.
+
+“Yes, Miss, but I thought ...”
+
+Slowly Mary Trevert turned and looked at the man.
+
+“Bude,”—her voice was very calm,—“I want you to tell me the truth. You
+know that Mr. Greve went in to Mr. Parrish ...”
+
+Bude looked uneasily about him.
+
+“Oh, Miss,” he answered, almost in a whisper, “whatever are you
+saying?”
+
+“I want your answer, Bude,” the girl said coldly.
+
+Bude did not speak. He rubbed his hands up and down his trousers in
+desperation.
+
+“I wish to know why Mr. Parrish did this thing, Bude. I mean to know.
+And I think you are keeping something back!”
+
+The challenge resounded clearly, firmly.
+
+“Miss Trevert, ma’am,” the butler said in a low voice, “I wouldn’t take
+it upon me to say anything as would get anybody in this house into
+trouble....”
+
+“You saw Mr. Greve go into Mr. Parrish?”
+
+The butler raised his hands in a quick gesture of denial.
+
+“God forbid, Miss!” he ejaculated in horror.
+
+“What, then, do you know that is likely to get anybody here into
+trouble?”
+
+The butler hesitated an instant. Then he spoke.
+
+“That Inspector Humphries has been asking me questions, Miss, in a
+nasty, suspicious sort o’ way. I told him, what I told him already,
+that just after I’d done serving the tea Mr. Greve crossed the hall and
+went down the library corridor....”
+
+“You didn’t tell him everything, Bude?”
+
+The butler took a step nearer.
+
+“Oh, Miss,” he said, lowering his voice, “if you’ll pardon my
+frankness, but I know as how you and Mr. Greve are old friends, and I
+wouldn’t take it upon me to tell the police anything as might ...”
+
+Mary Trevert stood up and faced the man.
+
+“Bude,” said she, “Mr. Parrish was your master, a kind and generous
+master as he was kind and generous to every one in this house. We must
+clear up the mystery of his ... of his death. Neither you nor I nor Mr.
+Greve nor anybody must stand in the way. Now, tell me the truth!”
+
+She dropped back into her chair. She gave the order imperiously like
+the mistress of the house. The butler, trained through life to receive
+orders, surrendered.
+
+“There’s nothing much to tell, Miss. When Mr. Humphries asked me if I
+were the last person to see Mr. Parrish alive, I made sure that Mr.
+Greve would say he had been in to tell him tea was ready. But Mr.
+Greve, who heard the Inspector’s question and my answer, said nothing.
+So I thought, maybe, he had his reasons and I did not feel exactly as
+how it was my place ...”
+
+Mary Trevert tapped with her foot impatiently.
+
+“But what grounds have you for saying that Mr. Greve went in to Mr.
+Parrish? Mr. Greve declared quite positively that he went out by the
+side door and did not go into the library at all.”
+
+“But, Miss, I heard him speaking to Mr. Parrish ...”
+
+The girl turned round and the man saw fear in her wide-open eyes.
+
+The butler put his hand on the back of her chair and leaned forward.
+
+“Better leave things where they are, Miss,” he said in a low voice.
+“Mr. Parrish, I dare say, had his reasons. He’s gone to his last
+account now. What does it matter why he done it ...”
+
+The man was agitated, and in his emotion his carefully studied English
+was forsaking him.
+
+But the girl broke in incisively.
+
+“Please explain what you mean!” she commanded.
+
+“Why, Miss,” replied the butler, “we know that Mr. Greve had no call to
+like Mr. Parrish seeing how things were between you and the master ...”
+
+“You mean the servants know that Mr. Parrish and I were engaged ...”
+
+Bude made a deprecatory gesture.
+
+“Know, Miss? I wouldn’t go so far as to say ‘know.’ But there has been
+some talk in the servants’ ’all, Miss. You know what young female
+servants are, Miss ...”
+
+“And you think that Mr. Greve went to Mr. Parrish to talk about ...
+me?”
+
+Mary Trevert’s voice faltered a little. She looked eagerly at the
+other’s fat, smooth face.
+
+“I presoomed as much, Miss, I must confess!”
+
+“But what did you hear Mr. Greve say?”
+
+“I heard nothing, Miss, except just only the sound of voices. After Mr.
+Greve had crossed me in the hall, I took the salver I was carrying into
+the butler’s pantry. I stayed there a minute or two, and then I
+remembered I had not collected the letters from the box in the hall for
+the chauffeur to take to the post, the same as he does every evening. I
+went back to the hall, and just as I opened the green baize door I
+heard voices from the library ...”
+
+“Was it Mr. Greve’s voice?”
+
+“I cannot say, Miss. It was just the sound of voices, rather loud-like.
+I caught the sound because the door leading from the hall to the
+library corridor was ajar. Mr. Greve must have forgotten to shut it.”
+
+“What did you do?”
+
+“Well, Miss, I closed the corridor door ...”
+
+“Why did you do that?”
+
+“Well, Miss, seeing the voices sounded angry-like, I thought perhaps it
+would be better not to let any one else hear.... And Mr. Greve looked
+upset-like when he passed me. He gave me quite a turn, he did, when I
+saw his face under the hall lamp....”
+
+“Did you stay there ... and listen?”
+
+Bude drew himself up.
+
+“That is not my ’abit, Miss, not ’ere nor in hany of the ’ouses where I
+’ave seen service....”
+
+The butler broke off. The _h_’s were too much for him in his
+indignation.
+
+“I didn’t mean to suggest anything underhand,” the girl said quickly.
+“I mean, did you hear any more?”
+
+“No, Miss. I emptied the letter-box and took the letters to the
+servants’ hall.”
+
+“But,” said Mary in a puzzled way, “why do you say it was Mr. Greve if
+you didn’t hear his voice?”
+
+Bude spread out his hands in bewilderment.
+
+“Who else should it have been, Miss? Sir Horace and the doctor were in
+the lounge at tea. Jay and Robert were in the servants’ hall. It could
+have been nobody else....”
+
+The girl’s head sank slowly on her breast. She was silent. The butler
+shifted his position.
+
+“Was there anything more, Miss?” he asked after a little while.
+
+“There is nothing further, thank you, Bude,” replied Mary. “About Mr.
+Greve, I am sure there must be some mistake. He cannot have understood
+Mr. Humphries’s question. I’ll ask him about it when I see him. I don’t
+think I should say anything to the Inspector about it, at any rate, not
+until I’ve seen Mr. Greve. He’ll probably speak to you about it
+himself....”
+
+Bude made a motion as though he were going to say something. Then
+apparently he thought better of it, for he made a little formal bow and
+in his usual slow and dignified manner made his exit from the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+ROBIN GOES TO MARY
+
+
+The house telephone, standing on the long and gracefully designed desk
+with its elaborately lacquered top, whirred. Mary started from her
+reverie in her chair by the fire. By the clock on the mantelshelf she
+saw that it was a quarter past eight. She remembered that once her
+mother had knocked at her door and bidden her come down to dinner. She
+had refused the invitation, declining to unlock the door.
+
+She lifted the receiver.
+
+“That you, Mary?”
+
+Robin was speaking.
+
+“May I come up and see you? Or would you rather be left alone?”
+
+His firm, pleasant voice greatly comforted her. Only then she realized
+how greatly she craved sympathy. But the recollection of Bude’s story
+suddenly interposed itself like a barrier between them.
+
+“Yes, come up,” she said, “I want to speak to you!”
+
+Her voice was dispirited,
+
+“I don’t want to see him,” she told herself as she replaced the
+receiver, got up, and unlocked the door, “but I must _know_!”
+
+A gentle tap came at the door. Robin came in quickly and crossed to
+where she stood by the fire.
+
+“My dear!” he said and put out his two hands.
+
+Her hands were behind her back, the fingers nervously intertwining. She
+kept them there and made no sign that she had observed his gesture.
+
+He looked at her in surprise.
+
+“This has been terrible for you, Mary,” he said. “I wish to God I could
+make you realize how very, very much I feel for you in what you must be
+going through....”
+
+The phrase was formal and he brought it out irresolutely, chilled as he
+was by her reception. She was looking at him dispassionately, her
+forehead a little puckered, her eyes a trifle hard.
+
+“Won’t you sit down,” she said. “There is something I wanted to say!”
+
+He was looking at her now in a puzzled fashion. With rather feigned
+deliberation he chose a chair and sat down facing the fire. A lamp on
+the mantelpiece—the only light in the room—threw its rays on his face.
+His chin was set rather more squarely than his wont and his eyes were
+shining.
+
+“Mary,”—he leant forward towards her,—“please forget what I said this
+afternoon. It was beastly of me, but I hardly knew what I was
+doing....”
+
+She made a little gesture as if to wave his apology aside. Then, with
+her hands clasped in front of her, scanning the nails, she asked,
+almost casually:
+
+“What did you say to Hartley Parrish in the library this afternoon?”
+
+Robin stared at her in amazement.
+
+“But I was not in the library!” he answered.
+
+The girl dropped her hands sharply to her side.
+
+“Don’t quibble with me, Robin,” she said. “What did you say to Hartley
+Parrish after you left me this afternoon in the billiard-room?”
+
+He was still staring at her, but now there was a deep furrow between
+his brows. He was breathing rather hard.
+
+“I did not speak to Parrish at all after I left you.”
+
+His answer was curt and incisive.
+
+“Do you mean to tell me,” Mary said, “that, after you left me and went
+down the corridor towards the library, you neither went in to Hartley
+nor spoke to him!”
+
+“I do!”
+
+“Then how do you account for the fact that, almost immediately after
+you had crossed Bude in the hall, he heard the sound of voices in the
+library?”
+
+Robin Greve stood up abruptly.
+
+“Bude, you say, makes this statement?”
+
+“Certainly!”
+
+“To whom, may I ask?”
+
+He spoke sharply and there was a challenging ring in his voice. It
+nettled the girl.
+
+“Only to me,” she said quickly, and added: “You needn’t think he has
+told the police!”
+
+Very deliberately Robin plucked his handkerchief from his sleeve, wiped
+his lips, and replaced it. The girl saw that his hands were trembling.
+
+“Why do you say that to me?” he demanded rather fiercely.
+
+Mary Trevert shrugged her shoulders.
+
+“This afternoon,” she said, “when I told you of my engagement to
+Hartley, you began by abusing him to me, you rushed from the room
+making straight for the library where we all know that Hartley was
+working, and a few minutes after Bude hears voices raised in anger
+proceeding from there. The next thing we know is that Hartley has ...”
+
+She broke off and looked away.
+
+“Mary,”—Robin’s voice was grave, and he had mastered all signs of
+irritation,—“you and I have known one another all our lives. You ought
+to know me well enough by now to understand that I don’t tell you lies.
+When I say I haven’t seen or spoken to Hartley Parrish since lunch this
+afternoon, that is the truth!”
+
+“How can it be the truth?” the girl insisted. “Horace and Dr. Romain
+were both in the lounge-hall, Bude was in the hall, the other
+menservants were in the servants’ hall. You are the only man in the
+house not accounted for, and a minute before Bude heard these voices
+you go down the corridor towards the library. I can understand you
+wanting to keep it from the police, but why do you want to deceive
+_me_?”
+
+“Mary,” answered the young man sternly, “I know you’re upset, but
+that’s no justification for persisting in this stupid charge against
+me. I tell you I never saw Parrish or spoke to him, either, between
+lunch and when I saw him lying dead in the library. I am not going to
+repeat the denial. But you may as well understand now that I am not in
+the habit of allowing my friends to doubt my word!”
+
+Mary flamed up at his tone.
+
+“If you are my friend,” she cried, “why can’t you trust me? Why should
+I find this out from Bude? Why should I be humiliated by hearing from
+the butler that he kept this evidence from the police in order to
+please me because you and I are friends? I am only trying to help you,
+to shield you ...”
+
+“That will do, Mary,” he said. “No, you must hear what I have to say.
+If you insist on disbelieving me, you must. But I don’t want you to
+help me. I don’t want you to shield me. I shall make it my business to
+see that Bude’s evidence is brought before the detective inspector from
+Scotland Yard who is being brought down here to handle the case ...”
+
+“A detective from Scotland Yard?” the girl repeated.
+
+“Yes, a detective. Humphries is puzzled by several points about this
+case and has asked for assistance from London. He is right. Neither the
+circumstances of Parrish’s death nor the motive of his act are clear.
+Bude’s evidence is sufficient proof that somebody did gain access to
+the library this afternoon. In that case....”
+
+“Yes....”
+
+“In that case,” said Greve slowly, “it may not be suicide....”
+
+Mary put one hand suddenly to her face as women do when they are
+frightened. She shrank back.
+
+“You mean....”
+
+He nodded.
+
+“Murder!”
+
+The girl gave a little gasp. Then she stretched out her hand and
+touched his arm.
+
+“But, Robin,” she spoke in quick gasps,—“you can’t give the police this
+evidence of Bude’s. Don’t you see it incriminates _you?_ Don’t you
+realize that every scrap of evidence points to you as being the man
+that visited Mr. Parrish in the library this afternoon? You’re a
+lawyer, Robin. You understand these things. Don’t you see what I mean?”
+
+He nodded curtly.
+
+“Perfectly,” he replied coldly.
+
+“Bude will do what I tell him,” the girl hurried on. “There is no need
+for the police to know....”
+
+“On the contrary,” said the other imperturbably, “it is essential they
+should be told at once.”
+
+The girl grasped the lapels of his coat in her two hands. Her breath
+came quickly and she trembled all over.
+
+“Are you mad, Robin?” she cried. “Who could have wanted to kill poor
+Hartley? Why should you put these ideas into the heads of the police?
+Bude may have imagined everything. Now, you’ll be sensible, promise
+me....”
+
+Very gently he detached the two slim hands that held his coat. His
+mouth was set in a firm line.
+
+“We are going to sift this thing to the bottom, Mary,” he said, “no
+matter what are the consequences. You owe it to Parrish and you owe it
+to me....”
+
+The telephone trilled suddenly.
+
+Robin picked up the receiver,
+
+“Yes, Bude,” he said.
+
+There was a moment’s silence in the room broken as the clock on the
+mantelpiece chimed nine times. Then Robin said into the telephone:
+
+“Right! Tell him I’ll be down immediately!”
+
+He put down the receiver and turned to Mary.
+
+“A detective inspector has arrived from London. He is asking to see me.
+I must go downstairs.”
+
+Mary, her elbows on the mantelpiece, was staring into the fire. At the
+sound of his voice she swung round quickly.
+
+“Robin!” she cried.
+
+But she spoke too late.
+
+Robin Greve had left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+MR. MANDERTON
+
+
+A quality which had gone far to lay the foundations of the name which
+Robin Greve was rapidly making at the bar was his strong intuitive
+sense. He had the rare ability of correctly ‘sensing’ an atmosphere, an
+uncanny _flair_ for driving instantly at the heart of a situation,
+which rendered him in the courts a dexterous advocate and a redoubtable
+opponent.
+
+Now, as he came into the lounge from the big oak staircase, he
+instantly realized that he had entered an unfriendly atmosphere. The
+concealed lights which were set all round the cornice of the room were
+turned on, flooding the pleasantly snug room with soft reflected light.
+A little group stood about the fire, Bude, Jay, Hartley Parrish’s man,
+and a stranger. Jay was engaged in earnest conversation with the
+stranger. But at the sound of Greve’s foot upon the staircase, the
+conversation ceased and a silence fell on the group.
+
+Greve’s attention was immediately attracted towards the stranger, whom
+he surmised to be the detective from Scotland Yard. He was a big, burly
+man with a heavy dark moustache, straight and rather thin black hair,
+and coarse features. He looked a full-blooded, plethoric person with
+reddish-blue veins on his florid face, and a heavy jowl which
+over-feeding, Robin surmised, had made fullish. He was very neatly
+dressed in his black overcoat with velvet collar carefully brushed, his
+natty black tie with its pearl pin, and well-polished boots. His black
+bowler hat, with a pair of heavy dogskin gloves, neatly folded, lay on
+the table.
+
+“This Mr. Greve?”
+
+Bude and Jay fell back as Robin joined the group. The detective bent
+his gaze on the young barrister as he put his question, and Robin for
+the first time noticed his eyes. Keen and clear, they were ill-suited,
+he thought, to the rather gross features of the man. By right he should
+have had either the small and roguish or the pale and expressionless
+eyes which are habitually found in individuals of the sanguine
+temperament.
+
+The detective had a trick of dropping his eyes to his boots. When he
+raised them, the effect was to alter his whole expression. His eyes,
+well-open, keenly observant, in perpetual motion, lent an air of
+alertness, of shrewdness, to his heavy, florid countenance.
+
+“That is my name,” said Robin, answering his question. “I am a
+barrister. I have met some of your people at the Yard, but I don’t
+think....”
+
+“Detective-Inspector Manderton,” interjected the big man, and paused as
+though to say, “Let that sink in!”
+
+Robin knew him well by repute. His qualities were those of the
+bull-dog, slow-moving, obstinately brave, and desperately tenacious.
+His was a name to conjure with among the criminal classes, and his
+career was starred with various sensational tussles with desperate
+criminals, for Detective-Inspector Manderton, when engaged on a case,
+invariably “took a hand himself,” as he phrased it, when an arrest was
+to be made. A bullet-hole in his right thigh and an imperfectly knitted
+right collar-bone remained to remind him of this propensity of his. His
+motto, as he was fond of saying, was, “What I have I hold!”
+
+“Well, Mr. Greve,” said the detective in a loud, hectoring voice,
+“perhaps you will be good enough to tell me what you know of this
+affair?”
+
+Robin flushed angrily at the man’s manner. But there was no trace of
+resentment in his voice as he replied. He told Manderton what he had
+already told Humphries: how he had gone from the billiard-room across
+the hall and down the library corridor to the side-door into the
+grounds, intending to have a stroll before tea, but, finding that it
+was threatening rain, had returned to the house by the front door.
+
+The detective scanned the young man’s face closely as he spoke. When
+Robin had finished, the other dropped his eyes and seemed to be
+examining the brilliant polish of his boots. He said nothing, and again
+Robin became aware of the atmosphere of hostility towards him which
+this man radiated.
+
+“It is dark at five o’clock?”
+
+Manderton turned to Bude.
+
+“Getting on that way, sir,” the butler agreed.
+
+“Are you in the habit, sir,”—the detective turned to Robin now,—“of
+going out for walks in the dark?”
+
+Greve shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“I had been sitting in the billiard-room. It was rather stuffy, so I
+thought I’d like some air before tea!”
+
+“You left Miss Trevert in the billiard-room?”
+
+“Yes!”
+
+“Why?”
+
+Greve put a hand to his throat and eased his collar.
+
+“The gong had sounded for tea,” the detective went on imperturbably;
+“surely it would have been more natural for you to have brought Miss
+Trevert with you?”
+
+“I didn’t wish to!”
+
+Mr. Manderton cleared his throat.
+
+“Ah!” he grunted. “You didn’t wish to. I should like you to be frank
+with me, Mr. Greve, please. Was it not a fact that you and Miss Trevert
+had words?”
+
+He looked up sharply at him with contracted pupils.
+
+“You took a certain interest in this young lady?”
+
+“Mr. Manderton,”—Robin spoke with a certain _hauteur_,—“don’t you think
+we might leave Miss Trevert’s name out of this?”
+
+“Mr. Greve,” replied the detective bluntly, “I don’t!”
+
+Robin made a little gesture of resignation.
+
+“Before the servants....”
+
+“Come, come, sir,” the detective broke in, “with all respect to the
+young lady and yourself, it was a matter of common knowledge in the
+house that she and you were ... well, old friends. It was remarked, Mr.
+Greve, I may remind you, that you looked very upset-like when you left
+the billiard-room to”—he paused perceptibly—“to go for your stroll in
+the dark.”
+
+Robin glanced quickly round the group. Jay averted his eyes. As for
+Bude, he was the picture of embarrassment.
+
+“You seem to be singularly well posted in the gossip of the servants’
+hall, Mr. Manderton!” said Robin hotly.
+
+It was a foolish remark, and Robin regretted it the moment the words
+had left his mouth.
+
+“Well, yes,” commented the detective slowly, “I am. I shall be well
+posted on the whole of this case, presently, I hope, sir!”
+
+His manner was perfectly respectful, but reserved almost to a tone of
+menace.
+
+“In that case,” said Robin, “I’ll tell you something you don’t know,
+Mr. Manderton. Has Bude told you what he heard after I had passed him
+in the hall?”
+
+Interest flashed at once into the detective’s face. He turned quickly
+to the butler. Robin felt he had scored.
+
+“What did you hear?” he said sharply.
+
+Bude looked round wildly. His large, fish-like mouth twitched, and he
+made a few feeble gestures with his hands.
+
+“It was only perhaps an idea of mine, sir,” he stammered,—“just a sort
+of idea ... I dare say I was mistaken. My hearing ain’t what it was,
+sir....”
+
+“Don’t you try to hoodwink me,” said Manderton, with sudden ferocity,
+knitting his brows and frowning at the unfortunate butler. “Come on and
+tell us what you heard. Mr. Greve knows and I mean to. Out with it!”
+
+Bude cast a reproachful glance at Robin. Then he said:
+
+“Well, sir, a minute or two after Mr. Greve had passed me, I went back
+to the hall and through the open door of the corridor leading to the
+library, I heard voices!”
+
+“Voices, eh? Did you recognize them?”
+
+“No, sir. It was just the sound of talking!”
+
+“You told Miss Trevert they were loud voices, Bude!” Robin interrupted.
+
+“Yes, sir,” replied the butler, “they were loudish in a manner o’
+speaking, else I shouldn’t have heard them!”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+The detective rapped the question out sharply.
+
+“Why, because the library door was locked, sir!”
+
+“How do you know that?”
+
+“Because Miss Trevert and Dr. Romain both tried the handle and couldn’t
+get in!”
+
+“Ah!” said Manderton, “you mean the door was locked _when the body was
+found!_ Now, as to these voices. Were they men’s voices?”
+
+“Yes, sir, I should say so.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Because they were deep-like!”
+
+“Was Mr. Hartley Parrish’s voice one of them?”
+
+The butler spread out his hands.
+
+“That I couldn’t say! I just heard the murmur-like, then shut the
+passage door quickly ...”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Well, sir, I thought ... I didn’t want to listen....”
+
+“You thought one of the voices was Mr. Greve’s, eh? Having a row with
+Mr. Parrish, eh? About the lady, isn’t that right?”
+
+“Aren’t you going rather too fast?” said Robin quietly.
+
+But the detective ignored him.
+
+“Come on and answer my question, my man,” he said harshly. “Didn’t you
+think it was Mr. Hartley Parrish and Mr. Greve here having a bit of a
+dust-up about the young lady being engaged to Mr. Parrish?”
+
+“Well, perhaps I did, but....”
+
+Like a flash the detective turned on Robin.
+
+“What do you know about this?” he demanded fiercely.
+
+“Nothing,” said Greve. “As I have told you already, I did not see Mr.
+Parrish alive again after lunch, nor did I speak to him. What I would
+suggest to you now is that upon this evidence of Bude’s depends the
+vitally important question of how Mr. Parrish met his death. Though he
+was found with a revolver in his hand, none of us in this house know of
+any good motive for his suicide. I put it to you that the man who can
+furnish us with this motive is the owner of the voice heard by Bude in
+conversation with Mr. Parrish, since obviously nobody other than Mr.
+Parrish and possibly this unknown person was in the library block at
+the time. And I would further remark, Mr. Manderton, that, until the
+bullet has been extracted, we do not know that Mr. Parrish killed
+_himself_...”
+
+“No,” said the detective significantly, “we don’t!”
+
+He had dropped his eyes to the ground now and was studying the pattern
+of the hearth-rug.
+
+“You say you heard no shot?” he suddenly asked Robin.
+
+“No!”
+
+“No one other than Miss Trevert, I gather, heard the shot?”
+
+“That is so!”
+
+Mr. Manderton consulted a slip of paper which he drew from his pocket.
+
+“Inspector Humphries,” he said, “has drawn up a rough time-table of
+events leading up to Mr. Parrish’s death, based on the evidence he has
+taken here this evening. You will tell me if it tallies.”
+
+He read from the slip:
+
+5 P.M. Bude sounds the gong for tea.
+
+
+5.10 Mr. Greve passes Bude in the hall and goes down the corridor
+leading to the library. Mr. Greve states he went straight out by the
+side door into the gardens.
+
+
+The detective looked up from his reading.
+
+“At 5.12, let us say, Bude comes back from the servants’ quarters to
+the hall and hears voices from the library. He closes the passage door.
+Is that right?”
+
+Bude nodded.
+
+“It would be about two minutes after I saw Mr. Greve the first time,”
+he agreed.
+
+“Very well!”
+
+The detective resumed his reading.
+
+5.15 P.M. Miss Trevert goes to fetch Mr. Parrish in to tea. She finds
+the library door locked. Tries the handle and hears a shot.
+
+
+5.18 (say) Miss Trevert comes into the lounge hall and gives the alarm.
+
+
+“Now, sir,” said Mr. Manderton briskly, “I should like to ask you one
+or two further questions. Firstly, how long were you out on your stroll
+in the dark?”
+
+“I should think about two or three minutes.”
+
+“That is to say, if you left the house by the side door at 5.10, you
+were back in the house by 5.13.”
+
+“Yes, that would be right,” Robin agreed.
+
+“And what did you do when you came in?”
+
+“I went up to my room to fetch a letter for the post.”
+
+“Miss Trevert heard the shot fired at 5.15. Where were you at that
+time?”
+
+“In my bedroom, I should say. I was there for a few minutes as I had to
+write a cheque....”
+
+“And where is your bedroom?”
+
+“In the other wing above the billiard-room.”
+
+“Hm! A pistol shot makes a great deal of noise. It seems strange that
+nobody in the house should have heard it.”
+
+Here Bude interposed.
+
+“Mr. Parrish, sir, was very particular about noise. He had the library
+door and the door leading from the front hall to the library corridor
+specially felted so that he should not hear any sounds from the house
+when he was working in the library. That library wing was absolutely
+shut off from the rest of the house. It was always uncommon quiet....”
+
+But the detective, ignoring him, turned to Robin again.
+
+“I have been round the house,” he said. “It does not seem to me it
+ought to take you three or even two minutes to walk from the side door
+to the front door. I should say it would be a matter of about thirty
+seconds!”
+
+“Excuse me,” Robin answered quickly, “I didn’t say I went straight from
+the side to the front door. I went through the gardens following the
+path that leads to the main drive. There I turned and came back to the
+front door.”
+
+“And you assert that you heard nothing?”
+
+“I heard nothing.”
+
+“Neither the ‘loud voices’ which the butler heard within two minutes of
+your leaving the house nor the shot fired five minutes later?”
+
+“I heard nothing.”
+
+Mr. Manderton examined the toes of his boots carefully.
+
+“You heard nothing!” he repeated.
+
+The door opened suddenly and Dr. Romain appeared. With him was the
+village practitioner and Inspector Humphries.
+
+Dr. Redstone carried in his hand a little pad of cotton wool. He bore
+it over to the fireplace and unwrapping the lint showed a twisted
+fragment of lead lying on the bloodstained dressing.
+
+“Straight through the heart and lodged in the spine,” he said. “Death
+was absolutely instantaneous.”
+
+The detective picked up the bullet and scrutinized it closely.
+
+“Browning pistol ammunition,” observed Humphries; “it fits the gun he
+used. There’s half a dozen spare rounds in one of the drawers of his
+dressing-room upstairs.”
+
+Mr. Manderton drew Inspector Humphries and Dr. Redstone into a corner
+of the room where they conversed in undertones. Bude and Jay had
+vanished. Dr. Romain turned to Robin Greve, who stood lost in a
+reverie, staring into the fire.
+
+“A clear case of suicide,” he said. “The medical evidence is conclusive
+on that point. A most amazing affair. I can’t conceive what drove him
+to it. Why _did_ he do it?”
+
+“Ah! why?” said Robin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+A SMOKING CHIMNEY
+
+
+A Red sun glowed dully through a thin mist when, on the following
+morning, Robin Greve emerged from the side door into the gardens of
+Harkings. It was a still, mild day. Moisture from the night’s rain yet
+hung translucent on the black limbs of the bare trees and glistened
+like diamonds on the closely cropped turf of the lawn. In the air was a
+pleasant smell of damp earth.
+
+Robin paused an instant outside the door in the library corridor and
+inhaled the morning air greedily. He had spent a restless, fitful
+night. His sleep had been haunted by the riddle which, since the
+previous evening, had cast its shadow over the pleasant house. The
+mystery of Hartley Parrish’s death obsessed him. If it was suicide,—and
+the doctors were both positive on the point—the motive eluded him
+utterly.
+
+His mind, trained to logical processes of reasoning by his practice of
+the law, baulked at the theory. When he thought of Hartley Parrish as
+he had seen him at luncheon on the day before, striding with his quick,
+vigorous step into the room, boyishly curious to know what the _chef_
+was giving them to eat, devouring his lunch with obvious animal
+enjoyment, brimful of energy, dominating the table with his forceful,
+eager personality....
+
+The sound of voices in the library broke in upon his thoughts. Robin
+raised his head and listened. Some one appeared to be talking in a loud
+voice ... no, not talking ... rather declaiming.
+
+Stepping quietly on the hard gravel path, Robin turned the corner of
+the house and came into view of the library window. The window-pane
+gaped, shattered where Horace Trevert had broken the glass on the
+previous evening when effecting an entrance into the room. Framed in
+the ragged outline of the splintered glass, bulked the large form of
+Sergeant Harris. He stood half turned from the window so as to catch
+the light on a copy of _The Times_ which he held in his red and
+freckled hands. He was reading aloud in stentorian tones from a leading
+article.
+
+“While this country,” he bawled sonorously, “cannot ... in h’our belief
+... hevade ... er ... responsibility ... er ... h’m disquieting
+sitwation ...”
+
+“Dear me!” thought Robin to himself, “what a very extraordinary morning
+pursuit for our police!”
+
+Suddenly the reading was interrupted.
+
+Robin heard the library door open. Then Manderton’s voice cried:
+
+“That’ll do, thank you, Sergeant!”
+
+“Did you ’ear me, sir?” asked the sergeant, who seemed very much
+relieved to be quit of his task.
+
+“Not a word!” was the reply. “But we’ll try with the library door open!
+I’ll go back to the hall and you start again!”
+
+A thoughtful look on his face, Robin turned quickly and, hurrying round
+the side of the house, entered by the front door. Standing by the door
+leading to the library corridor he found Manderton.
+
+The detective did not seem particularly glad to see him.
+
+“Good-morning, Inspector,” said Robin affably, “you’re early to work, I
+see. Having a little experiment, eh?”
+
+Manderton nodded without replying. Then the stentorian tones of
+Sergeant Harris proclaiming the views of “The Thunderer” on the
+Silesian situation rolled down the corridor and struck distinctly on
+the ears of the listeners in the hall.
+
+Presently Manderton closed the corridor door, shutting off the sound
+abruptly.
+
+“I think you said you could not hear the sergeant with the library door
+shut?” queried Robin suavely.
+
+“With the door shut—no,” answered the detective shortly. “But with the
+door open ...”
+
+He broke off significantly and dropped his eyes to his boots.
+
+“Would it be troubling you,” Robin struck in, “if we pushed your
+experiment one step farther?”
+
+Manderton lifted his eyes and looked at the young man, Robin met his
+gaze unflinchingly.
+
+“Well?”
+
+There was no invitation in his voice, but Robin affected to disregard
+the other’s coldness.
+
+“Let the library door be shut,” said Robin, “but leave the glass door
+leading into the garden open. Then give Sergeant Harris another trial
+at his reading....”
+
+The detective smiled rather condescendingly.
+
+“With the library door shut, you’ll hear nothing,” he remarked.
+
+“The library window is open,” Robin retorted, “or rather it is as good
+as open, as one of the two big panes is smashed....”
+
+His voice vibrated with eagerness. The detective looked at him
+curiously.
+
+“Oh, try if you like,” he said carelessly.
+
+Without waiting for his assent, Robin had already plucked open the
+corridor door and was halfway down the passage as the other replied. He
+was back again almost at once and, motioning the detective to silence,
+took his place at his side by the open door. Then the sound of the
+policeman’s voice was heard from the corridor. It was muffled and
+indistinct so that the sense of his words could not be made out. But
+the voice was audible enough.
+
+Robin turned to the detective.
+
+“Bude could make out no words,” he said.
+
+“But how do we know that the glass door was open?” queried the
+detective sceptically.
+
+“Because I left it open myself,” Robin countered promptly, “when I went
+out for my walk before tea. Sir Horace told me that he found the door
+banging about in the wind when he went out to get into the library by
+the window.”
+
+Mr. Manderton allowed his fat, serious face to expand very slowly into
+a broad, superior smile.
+
+“Doesn’t it seem a little curious,” he said, “that Mr. Hartley Parrish
+should choose to sit and work in the library on a gusty and dark winter
+evening with the window wide open? You’ll allow, I think, that the
+window was not broken until after his death ...”
+
+Robin’s nerves were ragged. The man’s tone nettled him exceedingly. But
+he confined himself to making a little gesture of impatience.
+
+“No, no, sir,” said Mr. Manderton, very decidedly, “I prefer to think
+that the library door was open, left open by the party who went in to
+speak to Mr. Parrish yesterday afternoon ... and who knows more about
+the gentleman’s suicide than he would have people think ...”
+
+Robin boiled over fairly at this.
+
+“Good God, man!” he exclaimed, “do you accept this theory of suicide as
+blandly as all that? Have you examined the body? Don’t you use your
+eyes? I tell you ... bah, what’s the use? I’m not here to do your work
+for you!...”
+
+“No, sir,” said the detective, quite unruffled, “you are not. And I
+think I’ll continue to see about it myself!”
+
+With that he opened the corridor door and vanished down the passage.
+
+With great deliberation Robin selected a cigarette from his case, lit
+it, and walked out through the front door into the fresh air again.
+More than ever he felt the riddle of Hartley Parrish’s death weighing
+upon his mind.
+
+His intuitive sense rebelled against the theory of suicide, despite the
+medical evidence, despite the revolver in the dead man’s hand, despite
+the detective’s assurance. And floating about in his brain, like the
+gossamer on the glistening bushes in the gardens, were broken threads
+of vague suspicions, of half-formed theories, leading from his hasty
+observations in the death chamber ...
+
+In itself the death of Hartley Parrish left him cold. Yes, he must
+admit that. But the look in Mary Trevert’s eyes, as she had urged him
+to shield himself from the suspicion of having driven Hartley Parrish
+to his death, haunted him. Already dimly he was beginning to realize
+that Hartley Parrish in death might prove as insuperable a bar between
+him and Mary Trevert as ever he had been in life ...
+
+She was now a wealthy woman. Hartley Parrish’s will had ensured that,
+he knew. But it was not the barrier of riches that Robin Greve feared.
+He had asked Mary Trevert to be his wife before there was any thought
+of her inheriting Parrish’s fortune. He derived a little consolation
+from that reflection. At least he could not appear as a fortune-hunter
+in her eyes. But, until he could clear himself of the suspicion lurking
+in Mary Trevert’s mind that he, Robin Greve, was in some way implicated
+in Hartley Parrish’s death, the dead man, he felt, would always stand
+between them. And so ...
+
+Robin pitched the stump of his cigarette into a rose bush with a little
+gesture of resignation. Almost without knowing it, he had strolled into
+the rosery up a shallow flight of steps cut into the bank of green
+turf, which ran along the side of the house facing the library window
+to the corner of the house where it met the clipped box-hedge of the
+Pleasure Ground.
+
+The rosery was a pleasant rectangle framed in a sort of rustic bower
+which in the summer was covered with superb roses of every hue and
+variety. Gravel paths intersected rose-beds cut into all manner of
+fantastic shapes where stood the slender shoots of the young rose-trees
+each with its tag setting forth its kind, for Hartley Parrish had been
+an enthusiastic amateur in this direction.
+
+Robin turned round and faced the house. From his elevation he could
+look down into the library through the window with its shattered pane.
+He could see the gleaming polish on Hartley Parrish’s big desk and the
+great arm-chair pushed back as Hartley Parrish had pushed it from him
+just before his death.
+
+The bare poles of the woodwork festooned with the black arms of the
+creeping roses, standing out dark in the fast falling winter evening,
+must, he reflected, have been the last view that Hartley Parrish had
+had before ...
+
+But then he broke off his meditations abruptly. His eye had fallen on a
+narrow white patch standing out on one of the uprights supporting the
+clambering roses.
+
+It was a stout young tree, the light brown bark left adhering to its
+surface. It was a long blaze on the bark on the side of the trunk which
+had caught his eye. Robin walked round the gravel path until he was
+within a foot of the pole to get a better view.
+
+The pole stood almost exactly opposite the library window. The scar in
+the bark was high up and diagonal and quite freshly made, for the wood
+was dead white and much splintered.
+
+The young man put a hand on the upright for support and leant forward,
+carefully refraining from putting his foot on the soft brown mould of
+the flower-bed which fringed the path between it and the rustic
+woodwork. Then he ran lightly down the steps until he stood with his
+back to the library window. From here he carefully surveyed the upright
+again, then, returning to the rosery, began a careful scrutiny of the
+gravel paths and the beds.
+
+Apparently his search gave little result, for he presently abandoned it
+and turned his attention to the wooden framework on the other side of
+the rectangular rose-garden. He plunged boldly in among the rose-bushes
+and examined each upright in turn. He spent about half an hour in this
+meticulous investigation, and then, his boots covered with mould, his
+rough shooting-coat glistening with moisture, he walked slowly down the
+steps and reentered the house.
+
+As he was wiping the mud off his boots on the great mat in the front
+hall, Bude came out of the lounge hall with a pile of dishes on a tray.
+
+“Bude,” said Robin, “can you tell me if the fire in the library has
+been smoking of late?”
+
+“Well, sir,” replied the butler, “we’ve always had trouble with that
+chimdy when the wind’s in the southwest.”
+
+“Has it been smoking lately?” The young man reiterated his question
+impatiently.
+
+The man looked up in surprise.
+
+“Well, sir, now you come to mention it, it has. As a matter o’fact,
+sir, the sweep was ordered for to-day ...”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Well, sir, Mr. Parrish had mentioned it to me ...”
+
+“When?”
+
+The question came out like a pistol shot.
+
+“Yesterday, sir,” answered the butler blandly. “Just before luncheon,
+it was, sir. Mr. Parrish told me to have that chimdy seen to at once.
+And I telephoned for the sweep immediately after luncheon, sir ...”
+
+“Did Mr. Parrish say anything else, Bude?”
+
+Robin eagerly scanned the butler’s fat, unimpressive countenance. Bude,
+his tray held out stiffly in front of him, contracted his bushy
+eyebrows in thought.
+
+“I don’t know as he did, sir ...”
+
+“Think, man, think!” Robin urged.
+
+“Well, sir,” said Bude, unmoved, “I believe, now I come to think of it,
+that Mr. Parrish did say something about the wind blowing his papers
+about ...”
+
+“That is to say, he had been working with the window open?”
+
+Robin Greve’s question rang out sharply. It was an affirmation more
+than a question.
+
+“Yes, sir, leastways I suppose so, sir ...”
+
+“Which window?”
+
+“Why, the one Mr. Parrish always liked to have open in the warm
+weather, sir, ... the one opposite the desk. The other window was never
+opened, sir, because of the dictaphone as stands in front of it. The
+damp affects the mechanism ...”
+
+“Thank you, Bude,” said the young man.
+
+With his accustomed majesty the butler wheeled to go. In the turn of
+his head as he moved there was a faint suggestion of a shake ... a
+shake of uncomprehending pity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+“... SPEED THE PARTING GUEST!”
+
+
+Dr. Romain was just finishing his breakfast as Robin Greve entered the
+dining-room, a cosy oak-panelled room with a bow window fitted with
+cushioned window-seats. Horace Trevert stood with his back to the fire.
+There was no sign of either Lady Margaret or of Mary. Silence seemed to
+fall on both the doctor and his companion as Robin came in. They wore
+that rather abashed look which people unconsciously assume when they
+break off a conversation on an unexpected entry.
+
+“Morning, Horace! Morning, Doctor!” said Robin, crossing to the
+sideboard. “Any sign of Lady Margaret or Mary yet?”
+
+The doctor had risen hastily to his feet.
+
+“I rather think Dr. Redstone is expecting me,” he said rapidly; “I half
+promised to go over to Stevenish ... think I’ll just run over. The
+walk’ll do me good ...”
+
+He looked rather wildly about him, then fairly bolted from the room.
+
+Robin, the cover of the porridge dish in his hand, turned and stared at
+him.
+
+“Why, whatever’s the matter with Romain?” he began.
+
+But Horace, who had not spoken a word, was himself halfway to the door.
+
+“Horace!” called out Robin sharply.
+
+The boy stopped with his back towards the other. But he did not turn
+round.
+
+Robin put the cover back on the porridge dish and crossed the room.
+
+“You all seem in the deuce of a hurry this morning ...” he said.
+
+Still the boy made no reply.
+
+“Why, Horace, what’s the matter?”
+
+Robin put his hand on young Trevert’s shoulder. Horace shook him
+roughly off.
+
+“I don’t care to discuss it with you, Robin!” he said.
+
+Robin deliberately swung the boy round until he faced him.
+
+“My dear old thing,” he expostulated. “What does it all mean? _What_
+won’t you discuss with me?”
+
+Horace Trevert looked straight at the speaker. His upper lip was pouted
+and trembled a little.
+
+“What’s the use of talking?” he said. “You know what I mean. Or would
+you like me to be plainer ...”
+
+Robin met his gaze unflinchingly.
+
+“I certainly would,” he said, “if it’s going to enlighten me as to why
+you should suddenly choose to behave like a lunatic ...”
+
+Horace Trevert leant back and thrust his hands into his pockets.
+
+“After what happened here yesterday,” he said, speaking very clearly
+and deliberately, “I wonder you have the nerve to stay ...”
+
+“My dear Horace,” said Robin quite impassively, “would you mind being a
+little more explicit? What precisely are you accusing me of? What have
+I done?”
+
+“Done?” exclaimed the young man heatedly. “Done? Good God! Don’t you
+realize that you have dragged my sister into this wretched business?
+Don’t you understand that her name will be bandied about before a lot
+of rotten yokels at the inquest?”
+
+Robin Greve’s eyes glittered dangerously.
+
+“I confess,” he said, with elaborate politeness, “I scarcely understand
+what it has to do with me that Hartley Parrish should apparently commit
+suicide within a few days of becoming engaged to your sister ...”
+
+“Ha!”
+
+Horace Trevert snorted indignantly.
+
+“You don’t understand, don’t you? We don’t understand either. But, I
+must say, we thought _you_ did!”
+
+With that he turned to go. But Robin caught him by the arm.
+
+“Listen to me, Horace,” he said. “I’m not going to quarrel with you in
+this house of death. But you’re going to tell here and now what you
+meant by that remark. Do you understand? I’m going to know!”
+
+Horace Trevert shook himself free.
+
+“Certainly you shall know,” he answered with _hauteur_, “but I must say
+I should have thought that, as a lawyer and so on, you would have
+guessed my meaning without my having to explain. What I mean is that,
+now that Hartley Parrish is dead, there is only one man who knows what
+drove him to his death. And that’s yourself! Do you want it plainer
+than that?”
+
+Robin took a step back and looked at his friend. But he did not speak.
+
+“And now,” the boy continued, “perhaps you will realize that your
+presence here is disagreeable to Mary ...”
+
+“Did Mary ask you to tell me this?” Robin broke in.
+
+His voice had lost its hardness. It was almost wistful. The change of
+tone was so marked that it struck Horace. He hesitated an instant.
+
+“Yes,” he blurted out. “She doesn’t want to see you again. I don’t want
+to be offensive, Robin..”
+
+“Please don’t apologize,” said Greve. “I quite understand that this is
+your sister’s house now and, of course, I shall leave at once. I’ll ask
+Jay to pack my things if you could order the car ...”
+
+The boy moved towards the door. Before he reached it Robin called him
+back.
+
+“Horace,” he said pleasantly, “before you go I want you to answer me a
+question. Think before you speak, because it’s very important. When you
+got into the library yesterday evening through the window, you smashed
+the glass, didn’t you?”
+
+Horace Trevert nodded.
+
+“Yes,” he replied, looking hard at Robin.
+
+“Why?”
+
+“To get into the room, of course!”
+
+“Was the window bolted?”
+
+The boy stopped and thought.
+
+“No,” he said slowly, “now I come to think of it, I don’t believe it
+was. No, of course, it wasn’t. I just put my arm through the broken
+pane and shoved the window up. But why do you ask?”
+
+“Oh, nothing,” answered Robin nonchalantly. “I just was curious to
+know, that’s all!”
+
+Horace stood and looked at him for an instant. Then he went out.
+
+A quarter of an hour later, Hartley Parrish’s Rolls-Royce glided
+through the straggling main street of Stevenish. A chapel bell tinkled
+unmusically, and on the pavements, gleaming with wet, went a procession
+of neatly dressed townsfolk bound, prayer-book in hand, for their
+respective places of worship. A newsboy, sorting out the Sunday
+newspapers which had just come down by train from London, was the only
+figure visible on the little station platform. Robin bought a
+selection.
+
+“There’s all about Mr. Parrish,” said the boy, “’im as they found dead
+up at ’Arkings las’ night. And the noospapers ’asn’t ’arf been sendin’
+down to-day ... reporters and photographers ... you oughter seen the
+crowd as come by the mornin’ train ...”
+
+“I wonder what they’ll get out of Manderton,” commented Robin rather
+grimly to himself as his train puffed leisurely, after the habit of
+Sunday trains, into the quiet little station.
+
+In the solitude of his first-class smoker he unfolded the newspapers.
+None had more than the brief fact that Hartley Parrish had been found
+dead with a pistol in his hand, but they made up for the briefness of
+their reports by long accounts of the dead man’s “meteoric career.”
+And, Robin noted with relief, hitherto Mary Trevert’s name was out of
+the picture.
+
+He dropped the papers on to the seat, and, as the train steamed
+serenely through the Sunday calm of the country towards London’s outer
+suburbs, he reviewed in his mind such facts as he had gleaned regarding
+the circumstances of his late host’s death.
+
+He would, he told himself, accept for the time being as _facts_ what,
+he admitted to himself, so far only seemed to be such. Hartley Parrish,
+then, had been seated in his library at his desk with the door locked.
+The fire was smoking, and therefore he had opened the window. According
+to Horace Trevert, the window had not been bolted when he had entered
+the library, for, after smashing the pane in the assumption that the
+bolt was shot, he had had no difficulty in pushing up the window.
+Hartley Parrish had opened the window himself, for on the nail of the
+middle finger of his left hand Robin had seen, with the aid of the
+magnifying-glass, a tiny fragment of white paint.
+
+Who had closed it? He had no answer ready to _that_ question.
+
+Now, as to the circumstances of the shooting. The suicide theory
+invited one to believe that Hartley Parrish had got up from his desk,
+pushing back his chair, had gone round it until he stood between the
+desk and the window, and had there shot himself through the heart. Why
+should he have done this?
+
+Robin had no answer ready to this question either. He passed on again.
+Bude had heard loud voices a very few minutes before Mary had heard the
+shot. That morning’s experiments had shown that Bude could have heard
+these sounds only by way of the open window of the library and the open
+doors of the garden and the library corridor. Additional proof, if Bude
+had heard aright, that the library window was open.
+
+Leaning back in his seat, his finger-tips pressed together, Robin Greve
+resolutely faced the situation to which his deductions were leading
+him.
+
+“The voice heard at the open window,” he told himself, “was the voice
+of the man who murdered Parrish and who closed the window, that is, of
+course, if the murder theory proves more conclusive than that of
+suicide.”
+
+This brought him back to his investigations in the rosery. The abrasure
+he had discovered on the timber upright was the mark of a bullet and a
+mark freshly made at that. Moreover, it had almost certainly been fired
+from the library window—from the window which Parrish had opened; the
+angle at which it had struck and marked the tree showed that almost
+conclusively.
+
+Yet there had been but one shot! If only he had been able to find that
+bullet in the rosery! Robin thought ruefully of his long hunt among the
+sopping rose-bushes.
+
+Yes, there had been only one shot. Mary Trevert had stated it
+definitely. Besides, the bullet that had killed Hartley Parrish had
+been fired from his own revolver and had been found in the body. Robin
+Greve felt the murder theory collapsing about him. But the suicide
+theory did not stand up, either. What possible, probable motive had
+Hartley Parrish for taking his own life?
+
+“He wasn’t the man to do it!”
+
+The wheels of the train took up the rhythm of the phrase and dinned it
+into his ears.
+
+“He wasn’t the man to do it!”
+
+The riddle seemed more baffling than ever.
+
+Robin thrust one hand into his right-hand pocket to get his pipe, his
+other hand into his left-hand pocket to find his pouch. His left hand
+came into contact with a little ball of paper.
+
+He drew it out. It was the little ball of slatey-blue paper he had
+found on the floor of the library beside Hartley Parrish’s dead body.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+MR. MANDERTON IS NONPLUSSED
+
+
+Horace Trevert walked abruptly into Mary’s Chinese boudoir. Lady
+Margaret and the girl were standing by the fire.
+
+“Well,” said Horace, dropping into a chair, “he’s gone!”
+
+“Who?” said Lady Margaret.
+
+“Robin,” answered the boy, “and I must say he took it very well ...”
+
+“You don’t mean to tell me, Horace,” said his mother, “that you have
+actually sent Robin Greve away ...?”
+
+Mary Trevert put her hand on her mother’s arm.
+
+“I wished it, Mother. I asked Horace to send him away ...”
+
+“But, my dear,” protested Lady Margaret.
+
+Mary interrupted her impatiently.
+
+“Robin Greve was impossible here. I had to ask him to go. I suppose he
+can come back if ... if they want him for the inquest ...”
+
+Lady Margaret was looking at her daughter in a puzzled way. She was a
+woman of the world and had brought her daughter up to be a woman of the
+world. She knew that Mary was not impulsive by nature. She knew that
+there was a wealth of good sense behind those steady eyes.
+
+In response to a look from his mother, Horace got up and left the room.
+
+“Mary, dear,” said the older woman, “don’t you think you are making a
+mistake?”
+
+The girl turned away, one slim shoe tapping restlessly against the
+brass rail of the fireplace.
+
+“My dear,” her mother went on, “remember I have known Robin Greve all
+his life. His father, the Admiral, was a very old friend of mine. He
+was the very personification of honour. Robin is very fond of you ...
+no, he has told me nothing, but I _know_. Don’t you think it is rather
+hard on an old friend to turn him away just when you most want him?”
+
+There was a heightened colour in the girl’s face as she turned and
+looked her mother in the face.
+
+“Robin has not behaved like a friend, Mother,” she answered. “He knows
+more than he pretends about ... about this. And he lets me find out
+things from the servants when he ought to have told me himself. If he
+is suspected of having said something to Hartley which made him do this
+dreadful thing, he has only himself to thank. I _did_ try to shield
+him—before I knew. But I’m not going to do so any more. If he stays I
+shall have the police suspecting me all the time. And I owe something
+to Hartley ...”
+
+Her mother sighed a soft little sigh. She said nothing. She was a very
+wise woman.
+
+“Robin left me to go to the library ... I am sure of that ...” Mary
+went on breathlessly.
+
+“Why?” her mother asked.
+
+The girl hesitated.
+
+Then she said slowly:
+
+“You and I have always been good pals, Mother, so I may as well tell
+you. Robin had just asked me to marry him. So I told him I was engaged
+to Hartley. He went on in the most awful way, and said that I was
+selling myself and that I would not be the first girl that Hartley had
+kept ...”
+
+She broke off and raised her hands to her face. Then she put her elbows
+on the mantel-shelf and burst into tears.
+
+“Oh, it was hateful,” she sobbed.
+
+Her mother put her arm round her soothingly.
+
+“Well, my dear,” she said, “Robin was always fond of you, and I dare
+say it was a shock to him. When men feel like that about a girl they
+generally say things they don’t mean ...”
+
+Mary Trevert straightened herself up and dropped her hands to her side.
+She faced her mother, the tear-drops glistening on her long lashes.
+
+“He meant it, every word of it. And he was perfectly right. I _was_
+selling myself, and you know I was, Mother. Do you think we can go on
+for ever like this, living on credit and dodging tradesmen? I meant to
+marry Hartley and stick to him. But I never thought ... I never guessed
+... that Robin ...”
+
+“I know, my dear,” her mother interposed, “I know. Perhaps it doesn’t
+sound a very proper thing to say in the circumstances, but now that
+poor Hartley is gone, there is no reason whatsoever why you and Robin
+...”
+
+The Treverts were a hot-tempered race. Lady Margaret’s unfinished
+sentence seemed to infuriate the girl.
+
+“Do you think I’d marry Robin Greve as long as I thought he knew the
+mystery of Hartley’s death!” she cried passionately. “I was willing to
+give up my self-respect once to save us from ruin, but I won’t do it
+again. I’m not surprised to find you thinking I am ready to marry Robin
+and live happy ever after on poor Hartley’s money. But I’ve not sunk so
+low as that! If you ever mention this to me again, Mother, I promise
+you I’ll go away and never come back!”
+
+“My dear child,” temporized Lady Margaret, eyebrows raised in protest
+at this outburst, “of course, it shall be as you wish. I only thought
+...”
+
+But Mary Trevert was not listening. She leant on the mantel-shelf, her
+dark head in her hands, and she murmured:
+
+“The tragedy of it! My God, the tragedy of it!”
+
+Lady Margaret twisted the rings on her long white fingers.
+
+“The tragedy of it, my dear,” she said, “is that you have sent away the
+man you love at a time when you will never need him so badly again ...”
+
+There was a discreet tapping at the door.
+
+“Come in!” said Lady Margaret.
+
+Bude appeared.
+
+“Mr. Manderton, the detective, my lady, was wishing to know whether he
+might see Miss Trevert ...”
+
+“Yes. Ask him to come up here,” commanded Lady Margaret.
+
+“He is without—in the corridor, my lady!”
+
+He stepped back and in a moment Mr. Manderton stepped into the room,
+big, burly, and determined.
+
+He made a little stiff bow to the two ladies and halted irresolute near
+the door.
+
+“You wished to see my daughter, Mr. Manderton,” said Lady Margaret.
+
+The detective bowed again.
+
+“And you, too, my lady,” he said. “Allow me!”
+
+He closed the door, then crossed to the fireplace.
+
+“After I had seen you and Miss Trevert last night, my lady,” he began,
+“I had a talk with Mr. Jeekes, Mr. Parrish’s principal secretary, who
+came down by car from London as soon as he heard the news. My lady, I
+think this is a fairly simple case!”
+
+He paused and scanned the carpet.
+
+“Mr. Jeekes tells me, my lady,” he went on presently, “that Mr. Parrish
+had been suffering from neurasthenia and a weak heart brought on by too
+much smoking. It appears that he had consulted, within the last two
+months, two leading specialists of Harley Street about his health. One
+of these gentlemen, Sir Winterton Maire, ordered him to knock off all
+work and all smoking for at least three months. He will give evidence
+to this effect at the inquest. Mr. Parrish disregarded these orders as
+he was wishful to put through his scheme for Hornaway’s before taking a
+rest. Mr. Jeekes can prove that. In these circumstances, my lady....”
+
+“Well?”
+
+Lady Margaret, in her black crêpe de chine dress, setting off the
+silvery whiteness of her hair, was a calm, unemotional figure as she
+sat in her lacquer chair.
+
+“Well?” she asked again.
+
+“Well,” said the detective, “the verdict will be one of ‘Suicide whilst
+of unsound mind,’ and in my opinion the medical evidence will be
+sufficient to bring that in. There will not be occasion, I fancy, my
+lady, to probe any farther into the motives of Mr. Parrish’s
+action....”
+
+“And are you personally satisfied”—Mary’s voice broke in clear and
+unimpassioned—“are you personally satisfied, Mr. Manderton, that Mr.
+Parrish shot himself?”
+
+The detective cast an appealing glance at the tips of his
+well-burnished boots.
+
+“Yes, Miss, I think I may say I am....”
+
+“And what about the evidence of Bude, who said he heard voices in the
+library....”
+
+Mr. Manderton gave his shoulders the merest suspicion of a shrug,
+raised his hands, and dropped them to his sides.
+
+“I had hoped, my lady,” he said, throwing a glance at Lady Margaret,
+“and you, Miss, that I had made it clear that in the circumstances we
+need not pursue that matter any further....”
+
+Lady Margaret rose. Her dominating personality seemed to fill the room.
+
+“We are extremely obliged to you, Mr. Manderton,” she said, “for the
+able and discreet way in which you have handled this case. I sometimes
+meet the Chief Commissioner at dinner. I shall write to Sir Maurice and
+tell him my opinion.”
+
+Mr. Manderton reddened a little.
+
+“Your ladyship is too good,” he said.
+
+Lady Margaret bowed to signify that the interview was at an end. But
+Mary Trevert left her side and walked to the door.
+
+“Will you come downstairs with me, Mr. Manderton,” she said. “I should
+like to speak to you alone for a minute!”
+
+She led the way downstairs through the hall and out into the drive. A
+pale sun shone down from a grey and rainy sky, and the damp breeze
+blowing from the sodden trees played among the ringlets of her dark
+hair.
+
+“We will walk down the drive,” she said to the detective, who, rather
+astonished, had followed her. “We can talk freely out of doors.”
+
+They took a dozen steps in silence. Then she said:
+
+“Who was it speaking to Mr. Parrish in the library?”
+
+“Undoubtedly Mr. Greve,” replied the man without hesitation.
+
+“Why undoubtedly?” asked the girl.
+
+“It could have been no one else. We know that he left you hot to get at
+Mr. Parrish and have words with him. Bude heard them talking with
+voices raised aloud....”
+
+“But if the door were locked?”
+
+“Mr. Parrish may have opened it and locked it again, Mr. Greve getting
+out by the window. But there are no traces of that ... one would look
+to find marks on the paint on the inside. Besides, a little test we
+made this morning suggests that Mr. Greve spoke to Mr. Parrish through
+the window....”
+
+“Was the window open?”
+
+“Yes, Miss, it probably was. The fire had been smoking in the library.
+Mr. Parrish had complained to Bude about it. Besides, we have found Mr.
+Parrish’s finger-prints on the inside of the window-frame. Outside we
+found other finger-prints ... Sir Horace’s. Sir Horace was good enough
+to allow his to be taken.”
+
+The girl looked at the detective quickly.
+
+“Were there any other finger-prints except Horace’s on the outside?”
+she asked.
+
+Mr. Manderton shook his head.
+
+“No, Miss,” he answered.
+
+They had reached the lodge-gates at the beginning of the drive and
+turned to retrace their steps to the house.
+
+“Then we shall never know exactly why Mr. Parrish did this thing?”
+hazarded Mary.
+
+Mr. Manderton darted her a surreptitious glance.
+
+“We shall see about that,” he said.
+
+There was menace in his voice.
+
+Mary Trevert stopped. She put her hand on the detective’s arm.
+
+“Mr. Manderton,” she said, “if you are satisfied, then, believe me, I
+am!”
+
+The detective bowed.
+
+“Miss Trevert,” he said,—and he spoke perfectly respectfully though his
+words were blunt,—“I can well believe that!”
+
+The girl looked up quickly. She scanned his face rather apprehensively.
+
+“What do you mean?” she asked, “I don’t understand....”
+
+“I mean,” was the detective’s answer, given in his quiet, level voice,
+“that when you attempted to mislead Inspector Humphries you did nobody
+any good!”
+
+The girl bent her head without replying, and in silence they regained
+the house. At the house door they parted, Mary going indoors while the
+detective remained standing on the drive. Very deliberately he produced
+a short briar pipe, cut a stub of dark plug tobacco from a flat piece
+he carried in his pocket, crammed the tobacco into his pipe, and lit
+it. Reflectively he blew a thin spiral of smoke into the still air.
+
+“_He_ told me about that fat butler’s evidence,” he said to himself;
+“_he_ put me wise about that window being open; _he_ gave me the office
+about the paint on the finger-nails of Mr. H.P.”
+
+He ticked off each point on his fingers with the stem of his pipe.
+
+“Why?” said Mr. Manderton aloud, addressing a laurel-bush.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+JEEKES
+
+
+Mr. Albert Edward Jeekes, Hartley Parrish’s principal private
+secretary, lunched with Lady Margaret, Mary and Horace. Dr. Romain
+seemed not to have got over his embarrassment of the morning, for he
+did not put in an appearance.
+
+Mr. Jeekes was an old young man who supported bravely the weight of his
+Christian names, a reminder of his mother having occupied some small
+post in the household of Queen Victoria the Good. He might have been
+any age between 35 and 50 with his thin sandy hair, his myopic gaze,
+and his habitual expression of worried perplexity.
+
+He was a shorthand-writer and typist of incredible dexterity and speed
+which, combined with an unquenchable energy, had recommended him to
+Hartley Parrish. Accordingly, in consideration of a salary which he
+would have been the first to describe as “princely,” he had during the
+past four years devoted some fifteen hours a day to the service of Mr.
+Hartley Parrish.
+
+He was unmarried. When not on duty, either at St. James’s Square,
+Harkings, or Hartley Parrish’s palatial offices in Broad Street, he was
+to be found at one of those immense and gloomy clubs of indiscriminate
+membership which are dotted about the parish of St. James’s, S.W., and
+to which Mr. Jeekes was in the habit of referring in Early-Victorian
+accents of respect.
+
+“When I heard the news at the club, Miss Trevert,” said Jeekes, “you
+could have knocked me down with a feather. Mr. Parrish, as all of us
+knew, worked himself a great deal too hard, sometimes not knocking off
+for his tea, even, and wore his nerves all to pieces. But I never
+dreamed it would come to this. Ah! he’s a great loss, and what we shall
+do without him I don’t know. There was a piece in one of the papers
+about him to-day—perhaps you saw it?—it called him ‘one of the captains
+of industry of modern England.’”
+
+“You were always a great help to him, Mr. Jeekes,” said Mary, who was
+touched by the little man’s hero-worship; “I am sure you realized that
+he appreciated you.”
+
+“Well,” replied Mr. Jeekes, rubbing the palms of his hands together,
+“he did a great deal for _me_. Took me out of a City office where I was
+getting two pound five a week. That’s what he did. It was a shipping
+firm. I tell you this because it has a bearing, Miss Trevert, on what
+is to follow. Why did he pick me? I’ll tell you.
+
+“He was passing through the front office with one of our principals
+when he asked him, just casually, what Union Pacific stood at. The boss
+didn’t know.
+
+“‘A hundred and eighty-seven London parity,’ says I. He turned round
+and looked at me. ‘How do you know that?’ says he, rather surprised,
+this being in a shipping office, you understand.
+
+“‘I take an interest in the markets,’ I replied. ‘Do you?’ he says.
+‘Then you might do for me,’ and tells me to come and see him.”
+
+“I went. He made me an offer. When I heard the figure ... my word!”
+
+Mr. Jeekes paused. Then added sadly:
+
+“And I had meant to work for him to my dying day!”
+
+They were in the billiard-room seated on the selfsame settee, Mary
+reflected, on which she and Robin had sat—how long ago it seemed,
+though only yesterday! Mary had carried the secretary off after
+luncheon in order to unfold to him a plan which she had been turning
+over in her mind ever since her conversation with the detective.
+
+“And what are you going to do now, Mr. Jeekes?” she asked.
+
+The little man pursed up his lips.
+
+“Well,” he said, “I’ll have to get something else, I expect. I’m not
+expecting to find anything so good as I had with Mr. Parrish. And
+things are pretty crowded in the City, Miss Trevert, what with all the
+boys back from the war, God bless ’em, and glad we are to see ’em, I’m
+sure. I hope you’ll realize, Miss Trevert, that anything I can do to
+help to put Mr. Parrish’s affairs straight....”
+
+“I was just about to say,” Mary broke in, “that I hope you will not
+contemplate any change, Mr. Jeekes. You know more about Mr. Parrish’s
+affairs than anybody else, and I shall be very glad if you will stay on
+and help me. You know I have been left sole executrix....”
+
+“Miss Trevert,”—the little man stammered in his embarrassment,—“this is
+handsome of you. I surely thought you would have wished to make your
+own arrangements, appoint your own secretaries....”
+
+Mr. Jeekes broke off and looked at her, blinking hard.
+
+“Not at all,” said Mary. “Everything shall be as it was. I am sure that
+Mr. Bardy will approve. Besides, Mr. Jeekes, I want your assistance in
+something else....”
+
+“Anything in my power....” began Jeekes.
+
+“Listen,” said Mary.
+
+She was all her old self-composed self now, a charming figure in her
+plain blue serge suit with a white silken shirt and black tie—the best
+approach to mourning her wardrobe could afford. Already the short
+winter afternoon was drawing in. Mysterious shadows lurked in the
+corners of the long and narrow room.
+
+“Listen,” said Mary, leaning forward. “I want to know why Mr. Parrish
+killed himself. I mean to know. And I want you, Mr. Jeekes, to help me
+to find out.”
+
+Something stirred ever so faintly in the remote recesses of the
+billiard-room. A loose board or something creaked softly and was
+silent.
+
+“What was that?” the girl called out sharply. “Who’s there?”
+
+Mr. Jeekes got up and walked over to the door. It was ajar. He closed
+it.
+
+“Just a board creaking,” he said as he resumed his seat.
+
+“I want your aid in finding out the motive for this terrible
+deed,”—Mary Trevert was speaking again,—“I can’t understand.... I don’t
+see clear....”
+
+“Miss Trevert,” said Mr. Jeekes, clearing his throat fussily, “I fear
+we must look for the motive in the state of poor Mr. Parrish’s nerves.
+An uncommonly high-strung man he always was, and he smoked those long
+black strong cigars of his from morning till night. Sir Winterton Maire
+told him flatly—Mr. Parrish, I recollect, repeated his very words to me
+after Sir Winterton had examined him—that, if he did not take a
+complete rest and give up smoking, he would not be answerable for the
+consequences. Therefore, Miss Trevert....”
+
+“Mr. Jeekes,” answered the girl, “I knew Mr. Parrish pretty well. A
+woman, you know, gets to the heart of a man’s character very often
+quicker than his daily associates in business. And I know that Mr.
+Parrish was the last man in the world to have done a thing like that.
+He was so ... so undaunted. He made nothing of difficulties. He relied
+wholly on himself. That was the secret of his success. For him to have
+killed himself like this makes me feel convinced that there was some
+hidden reason, far stronger, far more terrible, than any question of
+nerves....”
+
+Leaning forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, Mary
+Trevert raised her dark eyes to the little secretary’s face.
+
+“Many men have a secret in their lives,” she said in a low voice. “Do
+you know of anything in Mr. Parrish’s life which an enemy might have
+made use of to drive him to his death?”
+
+Her manner was so intense that Mr. Jeekes quite lost his
+self-composure. He clutched at his _pince-nez_ and readjusted them upon
+his nose to cover his embarrassment. The secretary was not used to
+gazing at beautiful women whose expressive features showed as clearly
+as this the play of the emotions.
+
+“Miss Trevert,” he said presently, “I know of no such secret. But then
+what do I—what does any one—know of Mr. Parrish’s former life?”
+
+“We might make enquiries in South Africa?” ventured the girl.
+
+“I doubt if we should learn anything much through that,” said the
+secretary. “Of course, Mr. Parrish had great responsibilities and
+responsibility means worry....”
+
+A silence fell on them both. From somewhere in the dark shadows above
+the fire glowing red through the falling twilight a clock chimed once.
+There was a faint rustling from the neighborhood of the door. Mr.
+Jeekes started violently. A coal dropped noisily into the fireplace.
+
+“There was something else,” said Mary, ignoring the interruption, and
+paused. She did not look up when she spoke again.
+
+“There is often a woman in cases like this,” she began reluctantly.
+
+Mr. Jeekes looked extremely uncomfortable.
+
+“Miss Trevert,” he said, “I beg you will not press me on that
+score....”
+
+“Why?” asked the girl bluntly.
+
+“Because ... because”—Mr. Jeekes stumbled sadly over his
+words—“because, dear me, there are some things which really I couldn’t
+possibly discuss ... if you’ll excuse me....”
+
+“Oh, but you can discuss everything, Mr. Jeekes,” replied Mary Trevert
+composedly. “I am not a child, you know. I am perfectly well aware that
+there’s a woman somewhere in the life of every man, very often two or
+three. I haven’t got any illusions on the subject, I assure you. I
+never supposed for a moment that I was the first woman in Mr. Parrish’s
+life....”
+
+This candour seemed to administer a knock-out blow to the little
+secretary’s Victorian mind. He was speechless. He took off his
+_pince-nez_, blindly polished them with his pocket-handkerchief and
+replaced them upon his nose. His fingers trembled violently.
+
+“I have no wish to appear vulgarly curious,” the girl went on,—Mr.
+Jeekes made a quick gesture of dissent,—“but I am anxious to know
+whether Mr. Parrish was being blackmailed ... or anything like
+that....”
+
+“Oh, no, Miss Trevert, I do assure you,” the little man expostulated in
+hasty denial, “nothing like that, I am convinced. At least, that is to
+say ...”
+
+He rose to his feet, clutching the little _attaché_ case which he
+invariably carried with him as a kind of emblem of office.
+
+“And now, if you’ll excuse me, Miss Trevert,” he muttered, “I should
+really be going. I am due at Mr. Bardy’s office at five o’clock. He is
+coming up from the country specially to meet me. There is so much to
+discuss with regard to this terrible affair.”
+
+He glanced at his watch.
+
+“With the roads as greasy as they are,” he added, “it will take me all
+my time in the car to ...”
+
+He cast a panic-stricken glance around him. But Mary Trevert held him
+fast.
+
+“You didn’t finish what you were saying about Mr. Parrish, Mr. Jeekes,”
+she said impassively. The secretary made no sign. But he looked a
+trifle sullen.
+
+“I don’t think you realize, Mr. Jeekes,” she said, “that other people
+besides myself are keenly interested in the motives for Mr. Parrish’s
+suicide. The police profess to be willing to accept the testimony of
+the specialists as satisfactory medical evidence about his state of
+mind. But I distrust that man, Manderton. He is not satisfied, Mr.
+Jeekes. He won’t rest until he knows the truth.”
+
+The secretary cast her a frightened glance.
+
+“But Mr. Manderton told me himself, Miss Trevert,” he affirmed, “that
+the verdict would be, ‘Suicide while temporarily insane,’ on Sir
+Winterton Maire’s evidence alone ...”
+
+Mary Trevert tapped the ground impatiently with her foot.
+
+“Manderton will get at the truth, I tell you,” she said. “He’s that
+kind of man. Do you want me to find out from them? At the inquest,
+perhaps?”
+
+The secretary put his _attaché_ case down on the lounge again.
+
+“Of course, that would be most improper, Miss Trevert,” he said. “But
+your question embarrasses me. It embarrasses me very much ...”
+
+“What are you keeping back from me, Mr. Jeekes?” the girl demanded
+imperiously.
+
+The secretary mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. Then, as
+though with an effort, he spoke.
+
+“There is a lady, a French lady, who draws an income from Mr. Parrish
+...”
+
+The girl remained impassive, but her eyes grew rather hard.
+
+“These payments are still going on?” she asked.
+
+Jeekes hesitated. Then he nodded,
+
+“Yes,” he said.
+
+“Well? Was she blackmailing ... him?”
+
+“No, no,” Mr. Jeekes averred hastily. “But there was some
+unpleasantness some months ago ... er ... a county court action, to be
+precise, about some bills she owed. Mr. Parrish was very angry about it
+and settled to prevent it coming into court. But there was some talk
+about it ... in legal circles ...”
+
+He threw a rather scared glance at the girl.
+
+“Please explain yourself, Mr. Jeekes,” she said coldly. “I don’t
+understand ...”
+
+“Her lawyer was Le Hagen—it’s a shady firm with a big criminal
+practice. They sometimes brief Mr. Greve ...”
+
+Mary Trevert clasped and unclasped her hands quickly.
+
+“I quite understand, Mr. Jeekes,” she said. “You needn’t say any more
+...”
+
+She turned away in a manner that implied dismissal. It was as though
+she had forgotten the secretary’s existence. He picked up his _attaché_
+case and walked slowly to the door.
+
+A sharp exclamation broke from his lips.
+
+“Miss Trevert,” he cried, “the door ... I shut it a little while back
+... look, it’s ajar!”
+
+The girl who stood at the fire switched on the electric light by the
+mantelpiece.
+
+“Is ... is ... the door defective? Doesn’t it shut properly?”
+
+The little secretary forced out the questions in an agitated voice.
+
+The girl walked across the room and shut the door. It closed perfectly,
+a piece of solid, well-fitting oak.
+
+“What does it mean?” said Mr. Jeekes in a whisper. “You understand, I
+should not wish what I told you just now about Mr. Parrish to be
+overheard ...”
+
+They opened the door again. The dusky corridor was empty.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+A SHEET OF BLUE PAPER
+
+
+The sight of that crumpled ball of slatey-blue paper brought back to
+Robin’s mind with astonishing vividness every detail of the scene in
+the library. Once more he looked into Hartley Parrish’s staring,
+unseeing eyes, saw the firelight gleam again on the heavy gold signet
+ring on the dead man’s hand, the tag of the dead man’s bootlace as it
+trailed from one sprawling foot across the carpet. Once more he felt
+the dark cloud of the mystery envelop him as a mist and with a little
+sigh he smoothed out the crumpled paper.
+
+It was an ordinary quarto sheet of stoutish paper, with a glazed
+surface, of an unusual shade of blue, darker than what the stationers
+call “azure,” yet lighter than legal blue. At the top right-hand corner
+was typewritten a date: “Nov. 25.” Otherwise the sheet was blank.
+
+The curious thing about it was that a number of rectangular slits had
+been cut in the paper. Robin counted them. There were seven. They were
+of varying sizes, the largest a little over an inch, the smallest not
+more than a quarter of an inch, in length. In depth they measured about
+an eighth of an inch.
+
+Robin stared at the paper uncomprehendingly. He remembered perfectly
+where he had found it on the floor of the library at Harkings, between
+the dead body and the waste-paper basket. The basket, he recalled,
+stood out in the open just clear of the desk on the left-hand side.
+From the position in which it was lying the ball of paper might have
+been aimed for the waste-paper basket and, missing it, have fallen on
+the carpet.
+
+Robin turned the sheet over. The back was blank. Then he held the paper
+up to the light. Yes, there was a water-mark. Now it was easily
+discernible. “EGMONT FF. QU.” he made out.
+
+The train was slowing down. Robin glanced out of the window and saw
+that they were crossing the river in the mirky gloom of a London winter
+Sunday. He balanced the sheet of paper in his hands for a moment. Then
+he folded it carefully into four and stowed it away in his
+cigarette-case. The next moment the train thumped its way into Charing
+Cross.
+
+A taxi deposited him at the Middle Temple Gate. He walked the short
+distance to the set of chambers he occupied. On his front door a piece
+of paper was pinned. By the rambling calligraphy and the phonetic
+English he recognized the hand of his “laundress.”
+
+Dere sir [it ran], mr rite call he want to see u pertikler i tole im as
+you was in country & give im ur adress hope i dun rite mrs bragg
+
+
+Robin had scarcely got his key in the door of his “oak” when there was
+a step on the stair. A nice-looking young man with close-cropped fair
+hair appeared round the turn of the staircase.
+
+“Hullo, Robin,” he exclaimed impetuously, “I _am_ glad to have caught
+you like this. Your woman gave me your address, so I rang up Harkings
+at once and they told me you had just gone back to town. So I came
+straight here. You remember me, don’t you? Bruce Wright ... But perhaps
+I’m butting in. If you’d rather see me some other time....”
+
+“My dear boy,” said Robin, motioning him into the flat, “of course I
+remember you. Only I didn’t recognize you just for the minute. Shove
+your hat down here in the hall. And as for butting in,”—he threw open
+the door of the living-room,—“why! I think there is no other man in
+England I would so gladly see at this very moment as yourself.”
+
+The living-room was a bright and cheery place, tastefully furnished in
+old oak with gay chintz curtains. It looked out on an old-world paved
+court in the centre of which stood a solitary soot-laden plane-tree.
+
+“What’s this rot about Parrish having committed suicide?” demanded the
+boy abruptly.
+
+Robin gave him in the briefest terms an outline of the tragedy.
+
+“Poor old H.P., eh?” mused young Wright; “who’d have thought it?”
+
+“But the idea of suicide is preposterous,” he broke out suddenly. “I
+knew Parrish probably better than anybody. He would never have done a
+thing like that. It must have been an accident....”
+
+Robin shook his head.
+
+“That possibility is ruled out by the medical evidence,” he said, and
+stopped short.
+
+Bruce Wright, who had been pacing up and down the room, halted in front
+of the barrister.
+
+“I tell you that Parrish was not the man to commit suicide. Nothing
+would have even forced him to take his own life. You know, I was
+working with him as his personal secretary every day for more than two
+years, and I am sure!”
+
+He resumed his pacing up and down the room.
+
+“Has it ever occurred to you, Robin,” he said presently, “that
+practically nothing is known of H.P.’s antecedents? For instance, do
+you know where he was born?”
+
+“I understand he was a Canadian,” replied Robin with a shrewd glance at
+the flushed face of the boy.
+
+“He’s lived in Canada,” said Wright, “but originally he was a Cockney,
+from the London slums. And I believe I am the only person who knows
+that....”
+
+Robin pushed an armchair at his companion.
+
+“Sit down and tell me about it,” he commanded.
+
+The boy dropped into the chair.
+
+“It was after I had been only a few months with him,” he began,
+“shortly after I was discharged from the army with that lung wound of
+mine. We were driving back in the car from some munition works near
+Baling, and the chauffeur took a wrong turning near Wormwood Scrubs and
+got into a maze of dirty streets round there....”
+
+“I know,” commented Robin, “Notting Dale, they call it....”
+
+“H.P. wasn’t noticing much,” Wright went on, “as he was dictating
+letters to me,—we used to do a lot of work in the Rolls-Royce in those
+rush days,—but, directly he noticed that the chauffeur was uncertain of
+the road, he shoved his head out of the window and put him right at
+once. I suppose I seemed surprised at his knowing his way about those
+parts, for he laughed at me and said: ‘I was born and brought up down
+here, Bruce, in a little greengrocer’s shop just off the Latimer Road.’
+I said nothing because I didn’t want to interrupt his train of thought.
+He had never talked to me or Jeekes or any of us like that before.
+
+“‘By Gad,’ he went on, ‘how the smell of the place brings back those
+days to me—the smell of decayed fruit, of stale fish, of dirt! Why, it
+seems like yesterday that Victor Marbran and I used to drive round
+uncle’s cart with vegetables and coal. What a life to escape from,
+Bruce, my boy! Gad, you can count yourself lucky!’
+
+“He was like a man talking to himself. I asked him how he had broken
+away from it all. At that he laughed, a bitter, hard sort of laugh. ‘By
+having the guts to break away from it, boy,’ he said. ‘It was I who
+made Victor Marbran come away with me. We worked our passages out to
+the Cape and made our way up-country to Matabeleland. That was in the
+early days of Rhodes and Barney Barnato—long before I went to Canada. I
+made Victor’s fortune for him and mine as well. But I made more than
+Victor and he never forgave me. He’d do me a bad turn if he could ...’
+
+“Then he broke off short and went on with his dictating ...”
+
+“Did he ever come back to this phase of his life?”
+
+“Only when we got out of the car that morning. He said to me: ‘Forget
+what I told you to-day, young fellow. Never rake up a man’s past!’ And
+he never mentioned the subject again. Of course, I didn’t either ...”
+
+Stretched full length in his chair, his eyes fixed on the ceiling,
+Robin remained lost in thought.
+
+“The conversation came back to me to-day,” said the boy, “when I read
+of Parrish’s death. And I wondered ...”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“Whether the secret of his death may not be found somewhere in his
+adventurous past. You see he said that Victor Marbran was an enemy.
+Then there was something else. I never told you—when you took all that
+trouble to get me another job after Parrish had sacked me—the exact
+reason for my dismissal. You never asked me either. That was decent of
+you, Robin ...”
+
+“I liked you, Bruce,” said Robin shortly.
+
+“Well, I’ll tell you now,” he said. “When I joined H.P.’s staff after I
+got out of the Army, I was put under old Jeekes, of course, to learn
+the work. One of the first injunctions he gave me was with regard to
+Mr. Parrish’s letters. I suppose you know more or less how secretaries
+of a big business man like Hartley Parrish work. They open all letters,
+lay the important ones before the big man for him to deal with
+personally, make a digest of the others or deal with them direct ...”
+
+Robin nodded.
+
+“Well,” the boy resumed, “the first thing old Jeekes told me was that
+letters arriving in a blue envelope and marked ‘Personal’ were never to
+be opened ...”
+
+“In a blue envelope?” echoed Robin quickly.
+
+“Yes, a particular kind of blue—a sort of slatey-blue—Jeekes showed me
+one as a guide. Well, these letters were to be handed to Mr. Parrish
+unopened.”
+
+Robin had stood up.
+
+“That’s odd,” he said, diving in his pocket.
+
+“I say, hold on a bit,” protested the boy, “this is really rather
+important what I am telling you. I’ll never finish if you keep on
+interrupting.”
+
+“Sorry, Bruce,” said Robin, and sat down again.
+
+But he began to play restlessly with his cigarette case which he had
+drawn from his pocket.
+
+“Well, of course,” Bruce resumed, “I wasn’t much of a private secretary
+really, and one day I forgot all about this injunction. Some days old
+H.P. got as many as three hundred letters. I was alone at Harkings with
+him, I remember, Jeekes was up at Sheffield and the other secretaries
+were away ill or something, and in the rush of dealing with this
+enormous mail I slit one of these blue envelopes open with the rest. I
+discovered what I had done only after I had got all the letters sorted
+out, this one with the rest. So I went straight to old H.P. and told
+him. By Jove!”
+
+“What happened?” said Robin.
+
+“He got into the most paralytic rage,” said Bruce. “I have never seen a
+man in such an absolute frenzy of passion. He went right off the hooks,
+just like that! He fairly put the wind up me. For a minute I thought he
+was going to kill me. He snatched the letter out of my hand, called me
+every name under the sun, and finally shouted: ‘You’re fired, d’ye
+hear? I won’t employ men who disobey my orders! Get out of this before
+I do you a mischief! I went straight off. And I never saw him again
+...”
+
+Robin Greve looked very serious. But his face displayed no emotion as
+he asked:
+
+“And what was in the letter for him to make such a fuss about?”
+
+The boy shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“That was the extraordinary part of it. The letter was perfectly
+harmless. It was an ordinary business letter from a firm in Holland
+...”
+
+“In Holland?” cried Greve. “Did you say in Holland? Tell me the name!
+No, wait, see if I can remember. ‘Van’ something—‘Speck’ or ‘Spike’
+...”
+
+“I remember the name perfectly,” answered Bruce, rather puzzled by the
+other’s sudden outburst; “it was Van der Spyck and Co. of Rotterdam. We
+had a good deal of correspondence with them ...”
+
+Robin Greve had opened his cigarette-case and drawn from it a creased
+square of blue paper folded twice across. Unfolding it, he held up the
+sheet he had found in the library at Harkings.
+
+“Is that the paper those letters were written on?” he asked.
+
+Bruce took the sheet from him. He held it up to the light.
+
+“Why, yes,” came the prompt answer. “I’d know it in a minute. Look,
+it’s the same water-mark. ‘Egmont.’ Where did you get hold of it?”
+
+“Bruce,” said Robin gravely, without answering the question, “we’re
+getting into deep water, boy!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+SHADOWS
+
+
+Robert Greve stood for an instant in silence by the window of his
+rooms. His fingers hammered out a tattoo on the pane. His eyes were
+fixed on the windows of the chambers across the court. But they did not
+take in the pleasant prospect of the tall, ivy-framed casements in
+their mellow setting of warm red brick. He was trying to fix a mental
+photograph of a letter—typewritten on paper of dark slatey blue—which
+he had seen on Hartley Parrish’s desk in the library at Harkings on the
+previous afternoon.
+
+Prompted by Bruce Wright, he could now recall the heading clearly.
+“ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & Co., GENERAL IMPORTERS, ROTTERDAM,” stood
+printed before his eyes as plainly as though he still held the
+typewritten sheet in front of him. But the mind plays curious tricks.
+Robin’s brain had registered the name; yet it recorded no impression of
+the contents of the letter. Beyond the fact that it dealt in plain
+commercial fashion with some shipments or other, he could recall no
+particular whatever of it.
+
+“But where did you get hold of this sheet of paper?” Bruce Wright’s
+voice broke in impatiently behind him. “I’m most frightfully interested
+to know ...”
+
+“Found it on the floor beside Parrish’s body,” answered Robin briefly.
+“There was a letter, too, on the same paper ...”
+
+“By Gad!” exclaimed the boy eagerly, “have you got that too?”
+
+Robin shook his head.
+
+“It was only your story that made me think of it. I had the letter. But
+I left it where I found it—on Parrish’s desk in the library ...”
+
+“But you read it ... you know what was in it?”
+
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“It was a perfectly straightforward business letter ... something about
+steel shipments ... I don’t remember any more ...”
+
+“A straightforward business letter,” commented the boy. “Like the
+letter I read, eh?...”
+
+“Tell me, Bruce,” said Robin, after a moment’s silence, “during the
+time you were with Hartley Parrish, I suppose these blue letters came
+pretty often?”
+
+Young Wright wrinkled his brow in thought.
+
+“It’s rather difficult to say. You see, there were three of us besides
+old Jeekes, and, of course, these letters might have come without my
+knowledge anything about it. But during the seven months I worked with
+H.P. I suppose about half a dozen of these letters passed through my
+hands. They used to worry H.P., you know, Robin ...”
+
+“Worry him?” exclaimed Robin sharply; “how do you mean?”
+
+“Well,” said Bruce, “Parrish was a very easygoing fellow, you know. He
+worked every one—himself included—like the devil, of course. But he was
+hardly ever nervy or grumpy. And so I was a bit surprised to find—after
+I had been with him for a time—that every now and then he sort of
+shrivelled up. He used to look ... well, careworn and ... and haggard.
+And at these times he was pretty short with all of us. It was such an
+extraordinary change from his usual cheery, optimistic self that
+sometimes I suspected him of dope or some horror like that ...”
+
+Robin shook his head. He had a sudden vision of Hartley Parrish, one of
+his long, black Partagas thrust at an aggressive angle from a corner of
+his mouth, virile, battling, strong.
+
+“Oh, no,” he said, “not dope ...”
+
+“No, no, I know,” the boy went on quickly. “It wasn’t dope. It was fear
+...”
+
+Robin swung round from the window.
+
+“Fear? Fear of what?”
+
+The boy cast a frightened glance over his shoulder rather as if he
+fancied he might be overheard.
+
+“Of those letters,” he replied. “I am sure it was that. I watched him
+and ... and I _know_. Every time he got one of those letters in the
+bluish envelopes, these curious fits of gloom came over him. Robin ...”
+
+“What, Bruce?”
+
+“I think he was being blackmailed!”
+
+The barrister nodded thoughtfully.
+
+“Don’t you agree?”
+
+The boy awaited his answer eagerly.
+
+“Something very like that,” replied the other.
+
+Then suddenly he smashed his fist into the open palm of his other hand.
+
+“But he wouldn’t have taken it lying down!” he cried. “Hartley Parrish
+was a fighter, Bruce. Did you ever know a man who could best him? No,
+no, it won’t fit! Besides ...”
+
+He broke off and thought for an instant.
+
+“We must get that letter from Harkings,” he said presently. “Jeekes
+will have it. We can do nothing until ...”
+
+His voice died away. Bruce, sunk in one of the big leather armchairs,
+was astonished to see him slip quickly away from the window and
+ensconce himself behind one of the chintz curtains.
+
+“Here, Bruce,” Robin called softly across the room. “Just come here.
+But take care not to show yourself. Look out, keep behind the curtain
+and here ... peep out through this chink!”
+
+Young Wright peered through a narrow slit between the curtain and the
+window-frame. In the far corner of the courtyard beneath the windows,
+where a short round iron post marked a narrow passage leading to the
+adjoining court, a man was standing. He wore a shabby suit and a blue
+handkerchief knotted about his neck served him as a substitute for the
+more conventional collar and tie. His body was more than half concealed
+by the side of the house along which the passage ran. But his face was
+clearly distinguishable—a peaky, thin face, the upper part in the
+shadow of the peak of a discoloured tweed cap.
+
+“He’s been there on and off all the time we’ve been talking,” said
+Robin. “I wasn’t sure at first. But now I’m certain. He’s watching
+these windows! Look!”
+
+Briskly the watcher’s head was withdrawn to emerge again, slowly and
+cautiously, in a little while.
+
+“But who is he? What does he want?” asked Bruce.
+
+“I haven’t an idea,” retorted Robin Greve. “But I could guess. Tell me,
+Bruce,” he went on, stepping back from the window and motioning the boy
+to do the same, “did you notice anybody following you when you came
+here?”
+
+Bruce shook his head.
+
+“I’m pretty sure nobody did. You see, I came in from the Strand, down
+Middle Temple Lane. Once service has started at Temple Church there’s
+not a mouse stirring in the Inn till the church is out. I think I
+should have noticed if any one had followed me up to your chambers ...”
+
+Robin set his chin squarely.
+
+“Then he came after me,” he said. “Bruce, you’ll have to go to Harkings
+and get that letter!”
+
+“By all means,” answered the boy. “But, I say, they won’t much like me
+butting in, will they?”
+
+“You’ll have to say you came down to offer your sympathy, ... volunteer
+your services ... oh, anything. But you _must_ get that letter! Do you
+understand, Bruce? _You must get that letter_—if you have to steal it!”
+
+The boy gave a long whistle.
+
+“That’s rather a tall order, isn’t it?” he said.
+
+Robin nodded. His face was very grave.
+
+“Yes,” he said presently, “I suppose it is. But there is something ...
+something horrible behind this case, Bruce, something dark and ... and
+mysterious. And I mean to get to the bottom of it. With your help. Or
+alone!”
+
+Bruce put his hand impulsively on the other’s arm.
+
+“You can count on me, you know,” he said. “But don’t you think ...”
+
+He broke off shyly.
+
+“What?”
+
+“Don’t you think you’d better tell me what you know. And what you
+suspect!”
+
+Robin hesitated.
+
+“Yes,” he said, “that’s fair. I suppose I ought. But there’s not much
+to tell, Bruce. Just before Hartley Parrish was found dead, I asked
+Miss Trevert to marry me. I was too late. She was already engaged to
+Hartley Parrish. I was horrified ... I know some things about Parrish
+... we had words and I went off. Five minutes later Miss Trevert went
+to fetch Parrish in to tea and heard a shot behind the locked door of
+the library. Horace Trevert got in through the window and found Parrish
+dead. Every one down at Harkings believes that I went in and threatened
+Parrish so that he committed suicide ...”
+
+“Whom do you mean by every one?”
+
+Robin laughed drily. “Mary Trevert, her mother, Horace Trevert ...”
+
+“The police, too?”
+
+“Certainly. The police more than anybody!”
+
+“By Jove!” commented the boy.
+
+“You ask me what I suspect,” Robin continued. “I admit I have no
+positive proof. But I suspect that Hartley Parrish did not die by his
+own hand!”
+
+Bruce Wright looked up with a startled expression on his face.
+
+“You mean that he was murdered?”
+
+“I do!”
+
+“But how? Why?”
+
+Then Robin told him of the experiment in the library, of the open
+window and of the bullet mark he had discovered in the rosery.
+
+“What I want to know,” he said, “and what I am determined to find out
+beyond any possible doubt, is whether the bullet found in Hartley
+Parrish’s body was fired from _his_ pistol. But before we reach that
+point we have to explain how it happened that only one shot was heard
+and how a bullet which _apparently_ came from Parrish’s pistol was
+found in his body ...”
+
+“If Mr. Parrish was murdered, the murderer might have turned the gun
+round in Parrish’s hand and forced him to shoot himself ...”
+
+“Hardly,” said Robin. “Remember, Mary Trevert was at the door when the
+shot was fired. Your theory presupposes the employment of force, in
+other words, a struggle. Miss Trevert heard no scuffling. No, I’ve
+thought of that.. it won’t do ...”
+
+“Have you any suspicion of who the murderer might be?”
+
+Robin shook his head decidedly.
+
+“Not a shadow of an idea,” he affirmed positively. “But I have a notion
+that we shall find a clue in this letter which, like a blithering fool,
+I left on Parrish’s desk. It’s the first glimmer of hope I’ve seen yet
+...”
+
+Bruce Wright squared his shoulders and threw his head back.
+
+“I’ll get it for you,” he said.
+
+“Good boy,” said Robin. “But, Bruce,” he went on, “you’ll have to go
+carefully. My name is mud in that house. You mustn’t say you come from
+me. And if you ask boldly for the letter, they won’t give it to you.
+Jeekes might, if he’s there and you approach him cautiously. But, for
+Heaven’s sake, don’t try any diplomacy on Manderton ... that’s the
+Scotland Yard man. He’s as wary as a fox and sharp as needles.”
+
+Bruce Wright buttoned up his coat with an air of finality.
+
+“Leave it to me,” he said, “I know Harkings like my pocket. Besides
+I’ve got a friend there ...”
+
+“Who might that be?” queried the barrister.
+
+“Bude,” answered the boy and laid a finger on his lips.
+
+“But,” he pursued, jerking his head in the direction of the window,
+“what are we going to do about him out there?”
+
+Robin laughed.
+
+“Him?” he said. “Oh, I’m going to take him out for an airing!”
+
+Robin stepped out into the hall. He returned wearing his hat and
+overcoat. In his hand were two yale keys strung on a wisp of pink tape.
+
+“Listen, Bruce,” he said. “Give me ten minutes’ start to get rid of
+this jackal. Then clear out. There’s a train to Stevenish at 3.23. If
+you get on the Underground at the Temple you ought to be able to make
+it easily. Here are the keys of the chambers. I can put you up here
+to-night if you like. I’ll expect you when I see you ... with that
+letter. Savvy?”
+
+The boy stood up.
+
+“You’ll have that letter to-night,” he answered. “But in the
+meantime,”—he waved the blue sheet with its mysterious slots at
+Robin,—“what do you make of this?”
+
+Robin took the sheet of paper from him and replaced it in his
+cigarette-case.
+
+“Perhaps, when we have the letter,” he replied, “I shall be able to
+answer that question!”
+
+Then he lit a cigarette, gave the boy his hand, and a minute later
+Bruce Wright, watching through the chink of the curtain from the window
+of Robin Greve’s chambers, saw a lanky form shuffle across the court
+and follow Robin round the angle of the house.
+
+Robin strode quickly through the maze of narrow passages and tranquil,
+echoing courts into the Sabbath stillness of the Strand. An occasional
+halt at a shop-window was sufficient to assure him that the watcher of
+the Temple was still on his heels. The man, he was interested to see,
+played his part very unobtrusively, shambling along in nonchalant
+fashion, mostly hugging the sides of the houses, ready to dart out of
+sight into a doorway or down a side turning, should he by any mischance
+arrive too close on the heels of his quarry.
+
+As he walked along, Robin turned over in his mind the best means for
+getting rid of his shadow. Should he dive into a Tube station and
+plunge headlong down the steps? He rejected this idea as calculated to
+let the tracker know that his presence was suspected. Then he reviewed
+in his mind the various establishments he knew of in London with double
+entrances, thinking that he might slip in by the one entrance and
+emerge by the other.
+
+In Pall Mall he came upon Tony Grandell, whom he had last seen playing
+bridge in the company dugout on the Flesquieres Ridge. Then he had been
+in “battle order,” camouflaged as a private soldier, as officers were
+ordered to go over the top in the latter phases of the war. Now he was
+resplendent in what the invitation cards call “Morning Dress” crowned
+by what must certainly have been the most relucent top-hat in London.
+
+“Hullo, hullo, hullo!” cried Tony, on catching sight of him; “stand to
+your kits and so forth! And how is my merry company commander? Robin,
+dear, come and relieve the medieval gloom of lunch with my aunt at
+Mart’s!”
+
+He linked his arm affectionately in Robin’s.
+
+Mart’s! Robin’s brain snatched at the word. Mart’s! most respectable of
+“family hotels,” wedged in between two quiet streets off Piccadilly
+with an entrance from both. If ever a man wanted to dodge a sleuth,
+especially a grimy tatterdemalion like the one sidling up Pall Mall
+behind them ...
+
+“Tony, old son,” said Robin, “I won’t lunch with you even to set the
+board in a roar at your aunt’s luncheon-party. But I’ll walk up to
+Mart’s with you, for I’m going there myself ...”
+
+They entered Mart’s together and parted in the vestibule, where Tony
+gravely informed his “dear old scream” that he must fly to his
+“avuncular luncheon.” Robin walked quickly through the hotel and left
+by the other entrance. The street was almost deserted. Of the man with
+the dingy neckerchief there was no sign. Robin hurried into Piccadilly
+and hopped on a ’bus which put him down at his club facing the Green
+Park.
+
+He had a late lunch there and afterwards took a taxi back to the
+Temple. The daylight was failing as he crossed the courtyard in front
+of his chambers. In the centre the smoke-blackened plane-tree throned
+it in unchallenged solitude. But, as Robin’s footsteps echoed across
+the flags, something more substantial than a shadow seemed to melt into
+the gathering dusk in the corner where the narrow passage ran.
+
+Robin stopped to listen at the entrance to his chambers. As he stood
+there he heard a heavy tread on the stone steps within. He turned to
+face a solidly built swarthy-looking man who emerged from the building.
+
+He favoured Robin with a leisurely, searching stare, then strode
+heavily across the courtyard to the little passage where he disappeared
+from view.
+
+Robin looked after him. The man was a stranger: the occupants of the
+other chambers were all known to him. With a thoughtful expression on
+his face Robin entered the house and mounted to his rooms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+THE INTRUDER
+
+
+“D——!” exclaimed Bruce Wright.
+
+He stood in the great porch at Harkings, his finger on the electric
+bell. No sound came in response to the pressure, nor any one to open
+the door. Thus he had stood for fully ten minutes listening in vain for
+any sound within the house. All was still as death. He began to think
+that the bell was out of order. He had forgotten Hartley Parrish’s
+insistence on quiet. All bells at Harkings rang, discreetly muted, in
+the servants’ hall.
+
+He stepped out of the porch on to the drive. The weather had improved
+and, under a freshening wind, the country was drying up. As he reached
+the hard gravel, he heard footsteps, Bude appeared, his collar turned
+up, his swallow-tails floating in the wind.
+
+“Now, be off with you!” he cried as soon as he caught sight of the trim
+figure in the grey overcoat; “how many more of ye have I to tell
+there’s nothing for you to get here! Go on, get out before I put the
+dog on you!”
+
+He waved an imperious hand at Bruce.
+
+“Hullo, Bude,” said the boy, “you’ve grown very inhospitable all of a
+sudden!”
+
+“God bless my soul if it isn’t young Mr. Wright!” exclaimed the butler.
+“And I thought it was another of those dratted reporters. It’s been
+ring, ring, ring the whole blessed morning, sir, you can believe me, as
+if they owned the place, wanting to interview me and Mr. Jeekes and
+Miss Trevert and the Lord knows who else. Lot of interfering
+busybodies, _I_ call ’em! I’d shut up all noospapers by law if I had my
+way ...”
+
+“Is Mr. Jeekes here, Bude?” asked Bruce.
+
+“He’s gone off to London in the car, sir ... But won’t you come in, Mr.
+Wright? If you wouldn’t mind coming in by the side door. I have to keep
+the front door closed to shut them scribbling fellows out. One of them
+had the face to ask me to let him into the library to take a photograph
+...”
+
+He led the way round the side of the house to the glass door in the
+library corridor.
+
+“This is a sad business, Bude!” said Bruce.
+
+“Ah, indeed, it is, sir,” he sighed. “He had his faults had Mr.
+Parrish, as well _you_ know, Mr. Wright. But he was an open-handed
+gentleman, that I will say, and we’ll all miss him at Harkings ...”
+
+They were now in the corridor. Bude jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
+
+“It was in there they found him,” he said in a low voice, “with a hole
+plumb over the heart.”
+
+His voice sank to a whisper. “There’s blood on the carpet!” he added
+impressively.
+
+“I should like just to take a peep at the room, Bude,” ventured the
+boy, casting a sidelong glance at the butler.
+
+“Can’t be done, sir,” said Bude, shaking his head; “orders of
+Detective-Inspector Manderton. The police is very strict, Mr. Wright,
+sir!”
+
+“There seems to be no one around just now, Bude,” the young man
+wheedled. “There can’t be any harm in my just going in for a
+second?...”
+
+“Go in you should, Mr. Wright, sir,” said the butler genially, “if I
+had my way. But the door’s locked. And, what’s more, the police have
+the key.”
+
+“Is the detective anywhere about?” asked Bruce.
+
+“No, sir,” answered Bude. “He’s gone off to town, too! And he don’t
+expect to be back before the inquest. That’s for Toosday!”
+
+“But isn’t there another key anywhere?” persisted the boy.
+
+“No, sir,” said Bude positively, “there isn’t but the one. And that’s
+in Mr. Manderton’s vest pocket!”
+
+Young Wright wrinkled his brow in perplexity. He was very young, but he
+had a fine strain of perseverance in him. He was not nearly at the end
+of his resources, he told himself.
+
+“Well, then,” he said suddenly, “I’m going outside to have a look
+through the window. I remember you can see into the library from the
+path round the house!”
+
+He darted out, the butler, protesting, lumbering along behind him.
+
+“Mr. Wright,” he panted as he ran, “you didn’t reelly ought ... If any
+one should come ...”
+
+But Bruce Wright was already at the window. The butler found him
+leaning on the sill, peering with an air of frightened curiosity into
+the empty room.
+
+“The glazier from Stevenish”—Bude’s voice breathed the words hoarsely
+in Wright’s ear—“is coming to-morrow morning to put the window in. He
+wouldn’t come to-day, him being a chapel-goer and religious. It was
+there we found poor Mr. Parrish—d’you see, sir, just between the window
+and the desk!”
+
+But Bruce Wright did not heed him. His eyes were fixed on the big
+writing-desk, on the line of black japanned letter-trays set out in
+orderly array. Outside, the short winter afternoon was drawing in fast,
+and the light was failing. Dusky shadows within the library made it
+difficult to distinguish objects clearly.
+
+A voice close at hand cried out sharply:
+
+“Mr. Bude! Mr. Bu-u-ude!”
+
+“They’re calling me!” whispered the butler in his ear with a tug at his
+sleeve; “come away, sir!”
+
+But Bruce shook him off. He heard the man’s heavy tread on the gravel,
+then a door slam.
+
+How dark the room was growing, to be sure! Strain his eyes as he might,
+he could not get a clear view of the contents of the letter-trays on
+the desk. But their high backs hid their contents from his eyes. Even
+when he hoisted himself on to the window-sill he could not get a better
+view.
+
+He dropped back on to the gravel path and listened. The wind soughed
+sadly in the bare tree-tops, somewhere in the distance a dog barked
+hoarsely, insistently; otherwise not a sound was to be heard. He cast a
+cautious glance round the side of the house. The glass door was shut;
+the lamp in the corridor had not been lit.
+
+Hoisting himself up to the window-sill again, he crooked one knee on
+the rough edge and thrusting one arm through the broken pane of glass,
+unbolted the window. Then, steadying himself with one hand, with the
+other he very gently pushed up the window, threw his legs across the
+sill, and dropped into the library. Very deliberately, he turned and
+pushed the window softly down behind him.
+
+Some unconscious prompting, perhaps an unfamiliar surface beneath his
+feet, made him look down. Where his feet rested on the mole-grey carpet
+a wide dark patch stood out from the delicate shade of the rug. For a
+moment a spasm of physical nausea caught him.
+
+“How beastly!” he whispered to himself and took a step towards the
+desk.
+
+Hartley Parrish’s desk was arranged just as he always remembered it to
+have been. All the letter-trays save one were empty. In that was a
+little pile of papers held down by a massive marble paper-weight.
+Quickly he stepped round the desk.
+
+He had put out his hand to lift the weight when there was a gentle
+rattle at the door.
+
+Bruce Wright wheeled instantly round, back to the desk, to face the
+door, which, in the gathering dusk, was now but a squarer patch of
+darkness among the shadows at the far end of the library. He stood
+absolutely still, rooted to the spot, his heart thumping so fast that,
+in that silent room, he could hear the rapid beats.
+
+Some one was unlocking the library door. As realization came to the
+boy, he tiptoed rapidly round the desk, the sound of his feet muffled
+by the heavy pile carpet, and reached the window. There was a click as
+the lock of the door was shot back. Without further hesitation Bruce
+stepped behind the long curtains which fell from the top of the window
+to the floor.
+
+The curtains, of some heavy grey material, were quite opaque. Bruce
+realized, with a sinking heart, that he must depend on his ears to
+discover the identity of this mysterious interloper. He dared not look
+out from his hiding-place—at least not until he could be sure that the
+newcomer had his back to the window. He remained, rigid and vigilant,
+straining his ears to catch the slightest sound, scarcely daring to
+breathe.
+
+He heard the door open, heard it softly close again. Then ... silence.
+Not another sound. The boy remembered the heavy pile carpet and cursed
+his luck. He would have to risk a peep round the curtains. But not yet!
+He must wait ...
+
+A very slight rustling, a faint prolonged rustling, caught his ear. It
+came nearer, then stopped. There was a little rattling noise from
+somewhere close at hand, a small clinking sound.
+
+Then silence fell again.
+
+The wind whooshed sadly round the house, the window clattered dismally
+in its frame, the curtains tugged fretfully before the cold breeze
+which blew in at the broken pane. But the silence in the room was
+absolute.
+
+It began to oppress the boy. It frightened him. He felt an
+uncontrollable desire to look out into the room and establish the
+identity of the mysterious entrant. He glided his hand towards the
+window-frame in the hope that he might find a chink between curtain and
+wall through which he might risk a peep into the room. But the curtain
+was fastened to the wall.
+
+The room was almost entirely dark now. Only behind him was a patch of
+grey light where the lowering evening sky was framed in the window. He
+began to draw the curtain very slowly towards him, at the same time
+leaning to the right. Very cautiously he applied one eye to the edge of
+the curtain.
+
+As he did so a bright light struck him full in the face. It streamed
+full from a lamp on the desk and almost blinded him. It was a
+reading-lamp and the bulb had been turned up so as to throw a beam on
+the curtain behind which the boy was sheltering.
+
+Behind the desk, straining back in terror, stood a slim, girlish
+figure. The details of her dress were lost in the gathering shadows,
+but her face stood out in the gloom, a pale oval. Bruce could see the
+dark line made by the lashes on her cheek.
+
+At the sight of her, he stepped boldly forth from his hiding-place,
+shielding his eyes from the light with his hand.
+
+“It’s Bruce Wright, Miss Trevert,” he said, “don’t you remember me?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+A FRESH CLUE
+
+
+“Oh!” cried the girl, “you frightened me! You frightened me! What do
+you want here ... in this horrible room?”
+
+She was trembling. One slim hand plucked nervously at her dress. Her
+breath came and went quickly.
+
+“I saw the curtain move. I thought it was the wind at first. But then I
+saw the outline of your fingers. And I imagined it was he ... come back
+...”
+
+“Miss Trevert,” said the boy abashed, “I must have frightened you
+terribly. I had no idea it was you!”
+
+“But why are you hiding here? How did you get in? What do you want in
+this house?”
+
+She spoke quickly, nervously. Some papers she held in her hand shook
+with her emotion. Bruce Wright stepped to the desk and turned the bulb
+of the reading-lamp down into its normal position.
+
+“I must apologize most sincerely for the fright I gave you,” he said.
+“But, believe me, Miss Trevert, I had no idea that anybody could gain
+access to this room. I climbed in through the window. Bude told me that
+the police had taken away the key ...”
+
+The girl made an impatient gesture.
+
+“But why have you come here?” she said. “What do you want?”
+
+The boy measured her with a narrow glance. He was young, but he was
+shrewd. He saw her frank eyes, her candid, open mien, and he took a
+rapid decision.
+
+“I think I have come,” he answered slowly, “for the same purpose as
+yourself!”
+
+And he looked at the papers in her hand.
+
+“I used to be Mr. Parrish’s secretary, you know,” he said.
+
+The girl sighed—a little fluttering sigh—and looked earnestly at him.
+
+“I remember,” she said. “Hartley liked you. He was sorry that he sent
+you away. He often spoke of you to me. But why have you come back? What
+do you mean by saying you have come for the same purpose as myself?”
+
+Bruce Wright looked at the array of letter-trays. The marble
+paper-weight had been displaced. The tray in which it had lain was
+empty. He looked at the sheaf of papers in the girl’s hand.
+
+“I wanted to see,” he replied, “whether there was anything here ... on
+his desk ... which would explain the mystery of his death ...”
+
+The girl spread out the papers in her hand on the big blotter.
+
+She laid the papers out in a row and leant forward, her white arms
+resting on the desk. From the other side of the desk the boy leant
+eagerly forward and scanned the line of papers.
+
+At the first glimpse his face fell. The girl, eyeing him closely,
+marked the change which came over his features.
+
+There were seven papers of various kinds, both printed and written, and
+they were all on white paper.
+
+The boy shook his head and swept the papers together into a heap.
+
+“It’s not there?” queried the girl eagerly.
+
+“No!” said Bruce absent-mindedly, glancing round the desk.
+
+“What isn’t?” flashed back the girl.
+
+Bruce Wright felt his face redden with vexation. What sort of a
+confidential emissary was he to fall into a simple trap like this?
+
+The girl smiled rather wanly.
+
+“Now I know what you meant by saying you had come for the same purpose
+as myself,” she said. “I suppose we both thought we might find
+something, a letter, perhaps, which would explain why Mr. Parrish did
+this dreadful thing, something to relieve this awful uncertainty about
+... about his motive. Well, I’ve searched the desk ... and there’s
+nothing! Nothing but just these prospectuses and receipts which were in
+the letter-tray here. They must have come by the post yesterday
+morning. And there’s nothing of any importance in the drawers ... only
+household receipts and the wages book and a few odd things like that!
+You can see for yourself ...”
+
+The lower part of the desk consisted of three drawers flanked on either
+side by cupboards. Mary Trevert pulled out the drawers and opened the
+cupboards. Two of the drawers were entirely empty and one of the
+cupboards contained nothing but a stack of cigar boxes. One drawer held
+various papers appertaining to the house. There was no sign of any
+letter written on the slatey-blue paper.
+
+The boy looked very hard at Mary.
+
+“You say there was nothing in the letter-tray but these papers here?”
+he asked.
+
+“Nothing but these,” replied the girl.
+
+“You didn’t notice any official-looking letter on bluish paper?” he
+ventured to ask.
+
+“No,” answered the girl. “I found nothing but these.”
+
+The boy thought for a moment.
+
+“Do you know,” he asked, “whether the police or anybody have been
+through the desk?”
+
+“I don’t know at all,” said Mary, smoothing back a lock of hair from
+her temple; “I daresay Mr. Jeekes had a look round, as he had a meeting
+with Mr. Parrish’s lawyer in town this afternoon!”
+
+She had lost all trace of her fright and was now quite calm and
+collected.
+
+“Do you know for certain whether Mr. Jeekes was in here?” asked Bruce.
+
+“Oh, yes. The first thing he did on arriving last night was to go to
+the library.”
+
+“I suppose Jeekes is coming back here to-night?”
+
+No, she told him. Mr. Jeekes did not expect to return to Harkings until
+the inquest on Tuesday.
+
+Bruce Wright picked up his hat.
+
+“I must apologize again, Miss Trevert,” he said, “for making such an
+unconventional entrance and giving you such a fright. But I felt I
+could not rest until I had investigated matters for myself. I would
+have presented myself in the ordinary way, but, as I told you, Bude
+told me the police had locked up the room and taken away the key ...”
+
+Mary Trevert smiled forgivingly.
+
+“So they did,” she said. “But Jay—Mr. Parrish’s man, you know—had
+another key. He brought it to me.”
+
+She looked at Bruce with a whimsical little smile.
+
+“You must have been very uncomfortable behind those curtains,” she
+said. “I believe you were just as frightened as I was.”
+
+She walked round the desk to the window.
+
+“It was a good hiding-place,” she remarked, “but not much good as an
+observation post. Why! you could see nothing of the room. The curtains
+are much too thick!”
+
+“Not a thing,” Bruce agreed rather ruefully. “I thought you were the
+detective!”
+
+He held out his hand to take his leave with a smile. He was a
+charming-looking boy with a remarkably serene expression which went
+well with close-cropped golden hair.
+
+Mary Trevert did not take his hand for an instant. Looking down at the
+point of her small black suede shoe she said shyly:
+
+“Mr. Wright, you are a friend of Mr. Greve, aren’t you?”
+
+“Rather!” was the enthusiastic answer.
+
+“Do you see him often?”
+
+The boy’s eyes narrowed suddenly. Was this a cross-examination?
+
+“Oh, yes,” he replied, “every now and then!”
+
+Mary Trevert raised her eyes to his.
+
+“Will you do something for me?” she said. “Tell Mr. Greve not to trust
+Manderton. He will know whom I mean. Tell him to be on his guard
+against that man. Say he means mischief. Tell him, above all things, to
+be careful. Make him go away ... go abroad until this thing has blown
+over ...”
+
+She spoke with intense earnestness, her dark eyes fixed on Bruce
+Wright’s face.
+
+“But promise me you won’t say this comes from me! Do you understand?
+There are reasons, very strong reasons, for this. Will you promise?”
+
+“Of course!”
+
+She took Bruce’s outstretched hand.
+
+“I promise,” he said.
+
+“You mustn’t go without tea,” said the girl. “Besides,”—she glanced at
+a little platinum watch on her wrist,—“there’s not another train until
+six. There is no need for you to start yet. I don’t like being left
+alone. Mother has one of her headaches, and Horace and Dr. Romain have
+gone to Stevenish. Come up to my sitting-room!”
+
+She led the way out of the library, locking the door behind them, and
+together they went up to the Chinese boudoir where tea was laid on a
+low table before a bright fire. In the dainty room with its bright
+colours they seemed far removed from the tragedy which had darkened
+Harkings.
+
+They had finished tea when a tap came at the door. Bude appeared. He
+cast a reproachful look at Bruce.
+
+“Jay would be glad to have a word with you, Miss,” he said.
+
+The girl excused herself and left the room. She was absent for about
+ten minutes. When she returned, she had a little furrow of perplexity
+between her brows. She walked over to the open fireplace and stood
+silent for an instant, her foot tapping the hearth-rug.
+
+“Mr. Wright,” she said presently, “I’m going to tell you something that
+Jay has just told me. I want your advice ...”
+
+The boy looked at her interrogatively. But he did not speak.
+
+“I think this is rather important,” the girl went on, “but I don’t
+quite understand in what way it is. Jay tells me that Mr. Parrish had
+on his pistol a sort of steel fitting attached to the end ... you know,
+the part you shoot out of. Mr. Parrish used to keep his automatic in a
+drawer in his dressing-room, and Jay has often seen it there with this
+attachment fitted on. Well, when Mr. Parrish was discovered in the
+library yesterday, this thing was no longer on the pistol. And Jay says
+it’s not to be found!...”
+
+“That’s rather strange!” commented Bruce. “But what was this steel
+contraption for, do you know? Was it a patent sight or something?”
+
+“Jay doesn’t know,” answered the girl.
+
+“Would you mind if I spoke to Jay myself?” asked the young man.
+
+In reply the girl touched the bell beside the fireplace. Bude answered
+the summons and was despatched to find Jay. He appeared in due course,
+a tall, dark, sleek young man wearing a swallow-tail coat and striped
+trousers.
+
+“How are you, Jay?” said Bruce affably.
+
+“Very well, thank you, sir,” replied the valet.
+
+“Miss Trevert was telling me about this appliance which you say Mr.
+Parrish had on his automatic. Could you describe it to me?”
+
+“Well, sir,” answered the man rather haltingly, “it was a little sort
+of cup made of steel or gun-metal fitting closely over the barrel ...”
+
+“And you don’t know what it was for?”
+
+“No, sir!”
+
+“Was it a sight, do you think?”
+
+“I can’t say, I’m sure, sir!”
+
+“You know what a sight looks like, I suppose. Was there a bead on it or
+anything like it?”
+
+“I can’t say, I’m sure, sir. I never gave any particular heed to it. I
+used to see the automatic lying in the drawer of the wardrobe in Mr.
+Parrish’s room in a wash-leather case. I noticed this steel appliance,
+sir, because the case wouldn’t shut over the pistol with it on and the
+butt used to stick out.”
+
+“When did you last notice Mr. Parrish’s automatic?”
+
+“It would be Thursday or Friday, sir. I went to that drawer to get Mr.
+Parrish an old stock to go riding in as some new ones he had bought
+were stiff and hurt him.”
+
+“And this steel cup was on the pistol then?”
+
+“Oh, yes, sir!”
+
+“And you say it was not on the pistol when Mr. Parrish’s body was
+found?”
+
+“No, sir!”
+
+“Are you sure of this?”
+
+“Yes, sir. I was one of the first in the room, and I saw the pistol in
+Mr. Parrish’s hand, and there was no sign of the cup, sir. So I’ve had
+a good look among his things and I can’t find it anywhere!”
+
+Bruce Wright pondered a minute.
+
+“Try and think, Jay,” he said, “if you can’t remember anything more
+about this steel cup, as you call it. Where did Mr. Parrish buy it?”
+
+“Can’t say, I’m sure, sir. He had it before ever I took service with
+him!”
+
+Jay put his hand to his forehead for an instant.
+
+“Now I come to think of it,” he said, “there was the name of the shop
+or maker on it, stamped on the steel. ‘Maxim,’ that was the name, now I
+put my mind back, with a number ...”
+
+“Maxim?” echoed Bruce Wright. “Did you say Maxim?”
+
+“Yes, sir! That was the name!” replied the valet impassively.
+
+“By Jove!” said the boy half to himself. Then he said aloud to Jay:
+
+“Did you tell the police about this?”
+
+Jay looked somewhat uncomfortable.
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+Jay looked at Mary Trevert.
+
+“Well, sir, I thought perhaps I’d better tell Miss Trevert first. Bude
+thought so, too. That there Manderton has made so much unpleasantness
+in the house with his prying ways that I said to myself, sir ...”
+
+Bruce Wright looked at Mary.
+
+“Would you mind if I asked Jay not to say anything about this to
+anybody just for the present?” he asked.
+
+“You hear what Mr. Wright says, Jay,” said Mary. “I don’t want you to
+say anything about this matter just yet. Do you understand?”
+
+“Yes, Miss. Will that be all, Miss?”
+
+“Yes, thank you, Jay!”
+
+“Thanks very much, Jay,” said the boy. “This may be important. Mum’s
+the word, though!”
+
+“I _quite_ understand, sir,” answered the valet and left the room.
+
+Hardly had the door closed on him than the girl turned eagerly to
+Bruce.
+
+“It _is_ important?” she asked.
+
+“It may be,” was the guarded reply.
+
+“Don’t leave me in the dark like this,” the girl pleaded. “This
+horrible affair goes on growing and growing, and at every step it seems
+more bewildering ... more ghastly. Tell me where it is leading, Mr.
+Wright! I can’t stand the suspense much more!”
+
+Her voice broke, and she turned her face away.
+
+“You must be brave, Miss Trevert,” said the boy, putting his hand on
+her shoulder. “Don’t ask me to tell you more now. Your friends are
+working to get at the truth ...”
+
+“The truth!” cried the girl. “God knows where the truth will lead us!”
+
+Bruce Wright hesitated a moment.
+
+“I don’t think you have any need to fear the truth!” he said presently.
+
+The girl took her handkerchief from her face and looked at him with
+brimming eyes.
+
+“You know more than you let me think you did,” she said brokenly. “But
+you are a friend of mine, aren’t you?”
+
+“Yes,” said Bruce, and added boldly:
+
+“And of his too!”
+
+She did not speak again, but gave him her hand. He clasped it and went
+out hurriedly to catch his train back to London.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+THE SILENT SHOT
+
+
+That faithful servitor of Fleet Street, the Law Courts clock, had just
+finished striking seven. It boomed out the hour, stroke by stroke,
+solemnly, inexorably, like a grim old judge summing up and driving
+home, point by point, an irrefutable charge. The heavy strokes broke in
+upon the fitful doze into which Robin Greve, stretched out in an
+armchair in his living-room, had dropped.
+
+He roused up with a start. There was the click of a key in the lock of
+his front door. Bruce Wright burst into the room.
+
+The boy shut the door quickly and locked it. He was rather pale and
+seemed perturbed. On seeing Robin he jerked his head in the direction
+of the courtyard.
+
+“I suppose you know they’re still outside?” he said.
+
+Robin nodded nonchalantly.
+
+“There are three of them now,” the boy went on. “Robin, I don’t like
+it. Something’s going to happen. You’ll want to mind yourself ... if
+it’s not too late already!”
+
+He stepped across to the window and bending down, peered cautiously
+round the curtain.
+
+Robin Greve laughed.
+
+“Bah!” he said, “they can’t touch me!”
+
+“You’re wrong,” Bruce retorted without changing his position. “They can
+and they will. Don’t think Manderton is a fool, Robin. He means
+mischief ...”
+
+Robin raised his eyebrows.
+
+“Does he?” he said. “Now I wonder who told you that ...”
+
+“Friends of yours at Harkings asked me to warn you ...” began Bruce
+awkwardly.
+
+“My friends are scarcely in the majority there,” retorted Robin. “Whom
+do you mean exactly?”
+
+But the boy ignored the question.
+
+“Three men watching the house!” he exclaimed; “don’t you think that
+_this_ looks as though Manderton meant business?”
+
+He returned to his post of observation at the curtain.
+
+Robin laughed cynically.
+
+“Manderton doesn’t worry me any,” he said cheerfully. “The man’s the
+victim of an _idée fixe_. He believes Parrish killed himself just as
+firmly as he believes that I frightened or bullied Parrish into doing
+it ...”
+
+“Don’t be too sure about that, Robin,” said the boy, dropping the
+curtain and coming back to Robin’s chair. “He may want you to think
+that. But how can we tell how much he knows?”
+
+Robin flicked the ash off his cigarette disdainfully.
+
+“These promoted policemen make me tired,” he said.
+
+Bruce Wright shook his head quickly with a little gesture of
+exasperation.
+
+“You don’t understand,” he said. “There’s fresh evidence ...”
+
+Robin Greve looked up with real interest in his eyes. His bantering
+manner had vanished.
+
+“You’ve got that letter?” he asked eagerly.
+
+Bruce shook his head.
+
+“No, not that,” he said. Then leaning forward he added in a low voice:
+
+“Have you ever heard of the Maxim silencer?”
+
+“I believe I have, vaguely,” replied Robin. “Isn’t it something to do
+with a motor engine?”
+
+“No,” said Bruce. “It’s an extraordinary invention which absolutely
+suppresses the noise of the discharge of a gun.”
+
+Robin shot a quick glance at the speaker.
+
+“Go on,” he said.
+
+“It’s a marvelous thing, really,” the boy continued, warming to his
+theme. “A man at Havre had one when I was at the base there, during the
+war. It’s a little cup-shaped steel fitting that goes over the barrel.
+You can fire a rifle fitted with one of these silencers in a small room
+and it makes no more noise than a fairly loud sneeze ...”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+Robin was listening intently now.
+
+“Parrish had a Maxim silencer,” Bruce went on impressively.
+
+“_Parrish_ had?”
+
+“It was fitted on his automatic pistol, the one he had in his hand when
+they found him ...”
+
+“There was no attachment of any kind on the gun Parrish was holding
+when he was discovered yesterday afternoon,” declared Robin positively;
+“I can vouch for that. I was there almost immediately after they found
+him. And if there had been anything of the kind Horace Trevert would
+certainly have mentioned it ...”
+
+“I know. Jay, who came in soon after you, was surprised to see that the
+silencer was not on the pistol. And he made a point of looking for it
+...”
+
+“But how do you know that Parrish had it on the pistol?...”
+
+“Well, we don’t know for certain. But we do know that it was
+permanently fitted to his automatic. Jay has often seen it. And if
+Parrish did remove it, he didn’t leave it lying around any where. Jay
+has looked all through his things without finding it ...”
+
+“When did Jay see it last?”
+
+“On Thursday!”
+
+“But are you sure that this is the same pistol as the one which Jay has
+been in the habit of seeing?”
+
+“Jay is absolutely sure. He says that Parrish only had the one
+automatic which he always kept in the same drawer in his dressing-room
+...”
+
+Robin was silent for a moment. Very deliberately he filled his pipe,
+lit it, and drew until it burned comfortably. Then he said slowly:
+
+“This means that Hartley Parrish was murdered, Bruce, old man. All
+through I have been puzzling my mind to reconcile the unquestionable
+circumstance that two bullets were fired—I told you of the bullet mark
+I found on the upright in the rosery—with the undoubted fact that only
+one report was heard. We can therefore presume, either that Hartley
+Parrish first fired one shot from his pistol with the silencer fitted
+and then removed the silencer and fired another shot without it,
+thereby killing himself, or that the second shot was fired by the
+person whose interest it was to get rid of the silencer. There is no
+possible or plausible reason why Parrish should have fired first one
+shot with the silencer and then one without. Therefore, I find myself
+irresistibly compelled to the conclusion that the shot heard by Mary
+Trevert was fired by the person who killed Parrish. Do I make myself
+clear?”
+
+“Perfectly,” answered Bruce.
+
+“Now, then,” the barrister proceeded, thoughtfully puffing at his pipe,
+“one weak point about my deductions is that they all hang on the
+question as to whether, at the time of the tragedy, Parrish actually
+had the silencer on his pistol or not. That is really the acid test of
+Manderton’s suicide theory. You said, I think, that a rifle fired with
+the silencer attachment makes no more noise than the sound of a loud
+sneeze!”
+
+“That’s right,” agreed Bruce; “a sort of harsh, spluttering noise. Not
+so loud either, Robin. Ph ... t-t-t! Like that!”
+
+“Loud enough to be heard through a door, would you say?”
+
+“Oh, I think so!”
+
+Robin thought intently for a moment.
+
+“Then Mary is the only one who can put us right on that point. Assuming
+that two shots were fired—and that bullet mark in the rosery is, I
+think, conclusive on that head—and knowing that she heard the loud
+report of the one, presumably, if Parrish had the silencer on his
+automatic, Mary must have heard the _muffled_ report of the other. What
+it comes to is this, Mary heard the shot fired that killed Parrish. Did
+she hear the shot he fired at his murderer?”
+
+“By Gad!” exclaimed Bruce Wright impressively, “I believe you’ve got
+it, Robin! Parrish fired at somebody at the window—a silent shot—and
+the other fellow fired back the shot that Mary Trevert heard, the shot
+that killed Parrish. Isn’t that the way you figure it out?”
+
+“Not so fast, young man,” remarked Robin. “Let’s first find out whether
+Mary actually heard the muffled shot and, if so, _when ... before_ or
+_after_ the loud report.”
+
+He glanced across at the window and then at Bruce,
+
+“I suppose this discovery about the silencer is responsible for the
+deputation waiting in the courtyard,” he said drily.
+
+“The police don’t know about it yet,” replied Bruce; “at least they
+didn’t when I left.”
+
+Robin shook his head dubiously.
+
+“If the servants know it, Manderton will worm it out of them. Hasn’t he
+cross-examined Jay?”
+
+“Yes,” said Bruce. “But he got nothing out of him about this. Manderton
+seems to have put everybody’s back up. He gets nothing out of the
+servants ...”
+
+“If Parrish had had this silencer for some time, you may be sure that
+other people know about it. These silencers must be pretty rare in
+England. You see, an average person like myself didn’t know what it
+was. By the way, another point which we haven’t yet cleared up is this:
+supposing we are right in believing Parrish to have been murdered, how
+do you explain the fact that the bullet removed from his body fitted
+his pistol?”
+
+“That’s a puzzler, I must say!” said Bruce.
+
+“There’s only one possible explanation, I think,” Robin went on, “and
+that is that Parrish was shot by a pistol of exactly the same calibre
+as his own. For the murderer to have killed Parrish with his own weapon
+would have been difficult without a struggle. But Miss Trevert heard no
+struggle. For murderer and his victim to have pistols of the same
+calibre argues a rather remarkable coincidence, I grant you. But then
+life is full of coincidences! We meet them every day in the law.
+Though, I admit, this is a coincidence which requires some explaining
+...”
+
+He fell into a brown study which Bruce interrupted by suddenly
+remembering that he had had no lunch.
+
+For answer Robin pointed at the sideboard.
+
+“There’s a cloth in there,” he said, “also the whisky, if my laundress
+has left any, and a siphon and there should be some claret—Mrs. Bragg
+doesn’t care about red wine. Set the table, and I’ll take a root round
+in the kitchen and dig up some tinned stuff.”
+
+They supped off a tinned tongue and some _pâté de foie gras_. Over
+their meal Bruce told Robin of his adventure in the library at
+Harkings.
+
+“Jeekes must have collected that letter,” Bruce said. “Before I came to
+you, I went to Lincoln’s Inn Fields to see if he was still at
+Bardy’s—Parrish’s solicitor, you know. But the office was closed, and
+the place in darkness. I went on to the Junior Pantheon, that’s
+Jeekes’s club, but he wasn’t in. He hadn’t been there all day, the
+porter told me. So I left a note asking him to ring you up here ...”
+
+“The case reeks of blackmail,” said Robin thoughtfully, “but I am
+wondering how much we shall glean from this precious letter when we do
+see it. I am glad you asked Jeekes to ring me up, though. He should be
+able to tell us something about these mysterious letters on the blue
+paper that used to put Parrish in such a stew ... Hullo, who can that
+be?”
+
+An electric bell trilled through the flat. It rang once ... twice ...
+and then a third time, a long, insistent peal.
+
+“See who’s there, will you, Bruce?” said Robin.
+
+“Suppose it’s the police ...” began the boy.
+
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“You can say I’m at home and ask them in,” he said.
+
+He heard the heavy oaken door swing open, a murmur of voices in the
+hall. The next moment Detective-Inspector Manderton entered the
+sitting-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+MR. MANDERTON LAYS HIS CARDS ON THE TABLE
+
+
+The detective’s manner had undergone some subtle change which Robin,
+watching him closely as he came into the room, was quick to note. Mr.
+Manderton made an effort to retain his old air of rather patronizing
+swagger; but he seemed less sure of himself than was his wont. In fact,
+he appeared to be a little anxious.
+
+He walked briskly into the sitting-room and looked quickly from Bruce
+to Robin.
+
+“Mr. Greve,” he said, “you can help me if you will by answering a few
+questions ...”
+
+With another glance at Bruce Wright he added:
+
+“... in private.”
+
+Bruce, obedient to a sign from Robin, said he would ring up in the
+morning and prepared to take his leave. Robin turned to the detective.
+
+“There are some of your men, I believe,” he said coldly, “watching this
+house. Would it be asking too much to request that my friend here might
+be permitted to return home unescorted?”
+
+“He needn’t worry,” replied Manderton with a significant smile.
+“There’s no one outside now!...”
+
+They watched Bruce Wright pass into the hall and collect his hat and
+coat. As the front door slammed behind him, the detective added:
+
+“I took ’em off myself soon after seven o’clock!”
+
+“Why?” asked Robin bluntly.
+
+Mr. Manderton dropped his heavy form into a chair.
+
+“I’m a plain man, Mr. Greve,” he said, “and I’m not above owning to it,
+I hope, when I’m wrong. For some little time now it has struck me that
+our lines of investigation run parallel ...”
+
+“Instead of crossing!”
+
+“Instead of crossing—exactly!”
+
+“It’s a pity you did not grasp that very obvious fact earlier,”
+observed Robin pointedly.
+
+Mr. Manderton crossed one leg over the other and, his finger-tips
+pressed together, looked at Robin.
+
+“Will you help me?” he asked simply.
+
+“Do you want my help?”
+
+Mr. Manderton nodded.
+
+“Allies, then?”
+
+“Allies it is!”
+
+Robin pointed to the table.
+
+“It’s dry work talking,” he said. “Won’t you take a drink?”
+
+“Thanks, I don’t drink. But I’ll have a cigar if I may. Thank you!”
+
+The detective helped himself to a cheroot from a box on the table and
+lit up. Then, affecting to scan the end of his cigar with great
+attention, he asked abruptly:
+
+“What do you know of the woman calling herself Madame de Malpas?”
+
+Robin pursed up his lips rather disdainfully.
+
+“One of the late Mr. Parrish’s lady friends,” he replied. “I expect you
+know that!”
+
+“Do you know where she lives?” pursued the detective, ignoring the
+implied question.
+
+“She’s dead.”
+
+A flicker of interest appeared for an instant in Mr. Manderton’s keen
+eyes.
+
+“You’re sure of that?”
+
+“Certainly,” answered Robin.
+
+“Who told you?”
+
+“Le Hagen—the solicitor, you know. He acted for this Malpas woman on
+one or two occasions.”
+
+“When did she die?”
+
+“Six or seven months ago ...”
+
+“Did Jeekes know about it?”
+
+“Jeekes? Do you mean Parrish’s secretary?
+
+“It’s funny your asking that. As a matter of fact, it was through
+Jeekes that I heard the lady was dead. I was in Le Hagen’s office one
+day when Jeekes came in, and Le Hagen told me Jeekes had come to pay in
+a cheque for the cost of the funeral and the transport of the body to
+France.”
+
+“This was six or seven months ago, you say? I take it, then, that any
+allowance that Parrish was in the habit of making to this woman has
+ceased?”
+
+“I tell you the lady is dead!”
+
+“Then what would you say if I informed you that Mr. Jeekes had declared
+that these payments were still going on ...”
+
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“I should say he was lying ...”
+
+“I agree. But why?”
+
+“Whom did he tell this to?”
+
+“Miss Trevert!”
+
+“Miss Trevert?”
+
+Robin repeated the name in amazement.
+
+“I don’t understand,” he said. “Why on earth should Jeekes blacken his
+employer’s character to Miss Trevert? What conceivable motive could he
+have had? Did she tell you this?”
+
+“No,” said Manderton; “I heard him tell her myself.”
+
+“Do you mean to tell me,” protested Robin, growing more and more
+puzzled, “that Jeekes told Miss Trevert this offensive and deliberate
+lie in your presence!”
+
+“Well,” remarked Mr. Manderton slowly, “I don’t know about his saying
+this in my presence exactly. But I heard him tell her for all that.
+Walls have ears, you know—particularly if the door is ajar!”
+
+He looked shrewdly at Robin, then dropped his eyes to the floor.
+
+“He also told her that Le Hagen and you were in business relations ...”
+
+Robin sat up at this.
+
+“Ah!” he said shortly. “I see what you’re getting at now. Our friend
+has been trying to set Miss Trevert against me, eh? But why? I don’t
+even know this man Jeekes except to have nodded ‘Good-morning’ to him a
+few times. Why on earth should he of all men go out of his way to
+slander me to Miss Trevert, to throw suspicion ...”
+
+He broke off short and looked at the detective.
+
+Mr. Manderton caressed his big black moustache.
+
+“Yes,” he repeated suavely, “you were saying ‘to cast suspicion’ ...”
+
+The eyes of the two men met. Then the detective leaned back in his
+chair and, blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips, said:
+
+“Mr. Greve, you’ve been thinking ahead of me on this case. What you’ve
+told me so far I’ve checked. And you’re right. Dead right. And since
+you’re, in a manner of speaking, one of the parties interested in
+getting things cleared up, I’d like you to tell me just simply what
+idea you’ve formed about it ...”
+
+“Gladly,” answered the barrister. “And to start with let me tell you
+that the case stinks of blackmail ...”
+
+“Steady on,” interposed the detective. “I thought so, too, at first.
+I’ve been into all that. Mr. Parrish made a clean break with the last
+of his lady friends about two months since; and, as far as our
+investigations go, there has been no blackmail in connection with any
+of his women pals. Vine Street knows all about Master Parrish. There
+were complaints about some of his little parties up in town. But I
+don’t believe there’s a woman in this case ...”
+
+“I didn’t say there was,” retorted Robin. “The blackmail is probably
+being levied from Holland. A threat of violence was finally carried
+into effect on Saturday evening between 5 and 5.15 P.M. by some one
+conversant with the lie of the land at Harkings. This individual, armed
+with an automatic Browning of the same calibre as Mr. Parrish’s, shot
+at Parrish through the open window of the library and killed
+him—probably in self-defence, after Parrish had had a shot at him ...”
+
+“Steady there, whoa!” said Mr. Manderton in a jocular way clearly
+expressive of his incredulity; “there was only one shot ...”
+
+“There were _two_,” was Robin’s dispassionate reply. “Though maybe only
+one was heard. Parrish had a Maxim silencer on his gun ...”
+
+Mr. Manderton was now thoroughly alert.
+
+“How did you find that out?” he asked.
+
+“Jay, Parrish’s man, came forward and volunteered this evidence ...”
+
+“He said nothing about it when I questioned him,” grumbled the
+detective.
+
+Robin laughed.
+
+“You’re a terror to the confirmed criminal, they tell me, Manderton,”
+he said, “but you obviously don’t understand that complicated mechanism
+known as the domestic servant. No servant at Harkings will voluntarily
+tell _you_ anything ...”
+
+Mr. Manderton, who had stood up, shook his big frame impatiently.
+
+“Explain the rest of your theories,” he said harshly. “What’s all this
+about blackmail being levied from Holland?”
+
+Then Robin Greve told him of the letters written on the slatey-blue
+paper and of their effect upon Parrish, and of the letter headed,
+“Elias van der Spyck & Co., General Importers, Rotterdam,” which had
+lain on the desk in the library when Parrish’s dead body had been
+found.
+
+Manderton nodded gloomily.
+
+“It was there right enough,” he remarked. “I saw it. A letter about
+steel shipments and the dockers’ strike, wasn’t it? As there seemed
+nothing to it, I left it with the other papers for Jeekes, the
+secretary chap. But what evidence is there that this was blackmail?”
+
+“This,” said Robin, and showed the detective the sheet of blue paper
+with its series of slits. “Manderton,” he said, “these letters written
+on this blue paper were in code, I feel sure. Why should not this be
+the key? You see it bears a date—‘Nov. 25.’ May it not refer to that
+letter? I found it by Parrish’s body on the carpet in the library. I
+would have given it to you at Harkings, but I shoved it in my pocket
+and forgot all about it until I was in the train coming up to town this
+morning.”
+
+Mr. Manderton took the sheet of paper, turned it over, and held it up
+to the light. Then, without comment, he put it away in the pocket of
+his jacket.
+
+“If Parrish killed himself,” Robin went on earnestly, “that letter
+drove him to it. If, on the other hand, he was murdered, may not that
+letter have contained a warning?”
+
+“I should prefer to suspend judgment until we’ve seen the letter, Mr.
+Greve,” said the detective bluntly. “We must get it from Jeekes. In the
+meantime, what makes you think that the murderer (to follow up your
+theory) was conversant with the lay of the land at Harkings?”
+
+“Because,” answered Robin, “the murderer left no tracks on the grass or
+flower-beds. He stuck to the hard gravel path throughout. That path,
+which runs from the drive through the rosery to the gravel path round
+the house just under the library window, is precious hard to find in
+the dark, especially where it leaves the drive, as at the outset it is
+a mere thread between the rhododendron bushes. And, as I know from
+experience, unless you are acquainted with the turns in the path, it is
+very easy to get off it in the dark, especially in the rosery, and go
+blundering on to the flower-beds. And I’ll tell you something else
+about the murderer. He—or she—was of small stature—not much above five
+foot six in height. The upward diagonal course of the bullet through
+Parrish’s heart shows that ...”
+
+Mr. Manderton shook his head dubiously.
+
+“Very ingenious,” he commented. “But you go rather fast, Mr. Greve. We
+must test your theory link by link. There may be an explanation for
+Jeekes’s apparently inexplicable lie to the young lady. Let’s see him
+and hear what he says. The grounds at Harkings must be searched for
+this second bullet, if second bullet there is, the mark on the tree
+examined by an expert. And since two bullets argue two pistols in this
+case, let us see what result we get from our enquiries as to where Mr.
+Parrish bought his pistol. He may have had two pistols ...”
+
+“If Parrish used a silencer,” remarked Robin, quite undisconcerted by
+the other’s lack of enthusiasm, “and my theory that two shots were
+fired is correct, there must have been two reports, a loud one and a
+muffled one. Miss Trevert heard one report, as we know. Did she hear a
+second?”
+
+“She said nothing about it,” remarked the detective.
+
+“She was probably asked nothing about it. But we can get this point
+cleared up at once. There’s the telephone. Ring up Harkings and ask her
+now.”
+
+“Why not?” said Mr. Manderton and moved to the telephone.
+
+There is little delay on the long-distance lines on a Sunday evening,
+and the call to Harkins came through almost at once. Bude answered the
+telephone at Harkings. Manderton asked for Miss Trevert. The butler
+replied that Miss Trevert was no longer at Harkings. She had gone to
+the Continent for a few days.
+
+This plain statement, retailed in the fortissimo voice which Bude
+reserved for use on the telephone, produced a remarkable effect on the
+detective. He grew red in the face.
+
+“What’s that?” he cried assertively. “Gone to the Continent? I should
+have been told about this. Why wasn’t I informed? What part of the
+Continent has she gone to?”
+
+Mr. Manderton’s questions, rapped out with a rasping vigour that
+recalled a machine-gun firing, brought Robin to his feet in an instant.
+He crossed over to the desk on which the telephone stood.
+
+Manderton placed one big palm over the transmitter and turned to Robin.
+
+“She’s gone to the Continent and left no address,” he said quickly.
+
+“Ask him if Lady Margaret is there,” suggested Robin.
+
+Mr. Manderton spoke into the telephone again. Lady Margaret had gone to
+bed, Bude answered, and her ladyship was much put out by Miss Trevert
+gallivanting off like that by herself with only a scribbled note left
+to say that she had gone.
+
+Had Bude got the note?
+
+No, Mr. Manderton, sir, he had not. But Lady Margaret had shown it to
+him. It had simply stated that Miss Trevert had gone off to the
+Continent and would be back in a few days.
+
+Again the detective turned to Robin at his elbow.
+
+“These country bumpkins!” he said savagely. “I must go to the Yard and
+get Humphries on the ’phone. He may have telegraphed me about it. You
+stay here and I’ll ring you later if there’s any news. What do you make
+of it, Mr. Greve?”
+
+“It beats me,” was Robin’s rueful comment. “And what about the inquest?
+It’s for Tuesday, isn’t it? Miss Trevert will have to give evidence, I
+take it?...”
+
+“Oh,” said Mr. Manderton, picking up his hat and speaking in an offhand
+way, “I’m getting _that_ adjourned for a week!”
+
+“The inquest adjourned! Why?”
+
+There was a twinkle in the detective’s eye as he replied.
+
+“I thought, maybe, I might get further evidence ...”
+
+Robin caught the expression and smiled.
+
+“And when did you come to this decision, may I ask?”
+
+“After our little experiment in the garden this morning,” was the
+detective’s prompt reply.
+
+Robin looked at him fixedly.
+
+“But, see here,” he said, “apparently it was to the deductions you
+formed from the result of that experiment that I owe the attentions of
+your colleagues who have been hanging round the house all day. And yet
+you now come to me and invite my assistance. Mr. Manderton, I don’t get
+it at all!”
+
+“Mr. Greve,” replied the detective, “Miss Trevert tried to shield you.
+That made me suspicious. You tried to force my investigations into an
+entirely new path. That deepened my suspicions. I believed it to be my
+duty to ascertain your movements after leaving Harkings. But then I
+heard Jeekes make an apparently gratuitously false statement to Miss
+Trevert with an implication against you. That, to some extent, cleared
+you in my eyes. I say ‘to some extent’ because I will not deny that I
+thought I might be taking a risk in coming to you like this. You see I
+am frank!...”
+
+The smile had left Greve’s face and he looked rather grim.
+
+“You’re pretty deep, aren’t you?” was his brief comment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+THE CODE KING
+
+
+Major Euan MacTavish was packing. A heavy and well-worn leather
+portmanteau, much adorned with foreign luggage labels, stood in the
+centre of the floor. From a litter of objects piled up on a side table
+the Major was transferring to it various brown-paper packages which he
+checked by a list in his hand.
+
+The Major always packed for himself. He packed with the neatness and
+rapidity derived from long experience of travel. As a matter of fact,
+he could not afford a manservant any more than he could allow himself
+quarters more luxurious than the rather grimy bedroom in Bury Street
+which housed him during his transient appearances in town. The
+remuneration doled out by the Foreign Office to the quiet and
+unobtrusive gentlemen known as King’s messengers is, in point of fact,
+out of all proportion to the prestige and glamour surrounding the
+silver greyhound badge, an example of which was tucked away in a pocket
+of the Major’s blue serge jacket hanging over the back of a chair.
+
+“Let’s see,” said the Major, addressing a large brown-paper covered
+package standing in the corner of the room, “you’re the bird-cage for
+Lady Sylvia at The Hague. Two pounds of candles for Mrs. Harry Deepdale
+at Berlin; the razor blades for Sir Archibald at Prague; the Teddy bear
+for Marjorie; polo-balls for the Hussars at Constantinople—there! I
+think that’s the lot! Hullo, hullo, who the devil’s that?”
+
+With a groaning of wires a jangling bell tinkled through the hall (the
+Major’s bedroom was on the ground floor). Sims, the aged ex-butler,
+who, with his wife, “did for” his lodgers in more ways than one, was
+out and the single servant-maid had her Sunday off. Euan MacTavish
+glanced at his wrist watch. It showed the hour to be ten minutes past
+nine. A flowered silk smoking-coat over his evening clothes and a briar
+pipe in his mouth, he went out into the hall and opened the front door.
+
+It was a drenching night. The lamps from a taxi which throbbed dully in
+the street outside the house threw a gleaming band of light on the
+shining pavement. At the door stood a taxi-driver.
+
+“There’s a lady asking for Major MacTavish,” he said, pointing at the
+cab. The Major stepped across to the cab and opened the door.
+
+“Oh, Euan,” said a girl’s voice, “how lucky I am to catch you!”
+
+“Why, Mary,” exclaimed the Major, “what on earth brings you round to me
+on a night like this? I only came up from the country this afternoon
+and I’m off for Constantinople in the morning!”
+
+“Euan,” said Mary Trevert, “I want to talk to you. Where can we talk?”
+
+The Major raised his eyebrows. He was a little man with grizzled hair
+and finely cut, rather sharp features.
+
+“Well,” he remarked, “there’s not a soul in the house, and I’ve only
+got a bedroom here. Though we’re cousins, Mary, my dear, I don’t know
+that you ought to....”
+
+“You’re a silly old-fashioned old dear,” exclaimed the girl, “and I’m
+coming in. No, I’ll keep the cab. We shall want it!”
+
+“All right,” said the Major, helping her to alight. “I tell you what.
+We’ll go into Harry Prankhurst’s sitting-room. He’s away for the
+week-end, anyway!”
+
+He took Mary Trevert into a room off the hall and switched on the
+electric light. Then for the first time he saw how pale she looked.
+
+“My dear,” he said, “I know what an awful shock you’ve had....”
+
+“You’ve heard about it?”
+
+“I saw it in the Sunday papers. I was going to write to you.”
+
+“Euan,” the girl began in a nervous, hasty way, “I have to go to
+Holland at once. There is not a moment to lose. I want you to help me
+get my passport viséed.”
+
+“But, my dear girl,” exclaimed the Major, aghast, “you can’t go to
+Holland like this alone. Does your mother know about it?”
+
+The girl shook her head.
+
+“It’s no good trying to stop me, Euan,” she declared. “I mean to go,
+anyway. As a matter of fact, Mother doesn’t know. I merely left word
+that I had gone to the Continent for a few days. Nobody knows about
+Holland except you. And if you won’t help me I suppose I shall have to
+go to Harry Tadworth at the Foreign Office. I came to you first because
+he’s always so stuffy ...”
+
+Euan MacTavish pushed the girl into a chair and gave her a cigarette.
+He lit it for her and took one himself. His pipe had vanished into his
+pocket.
+
+“Of course, I’ll help you,” he said. “Now, tell me all about it!”
+
+“Before ... this happened I had promised Hartley Parrish to marry him,”
+began the girl. “The doctors say his nerves were wrong. I don’t believe
+a word of it. He was full of the joy of life. He was very fond of me.
+He was always talking of what we should do when we were married. He
+never would have killed himself without some tremendously powerful
+motive. Even then I can’t believe it possible ...”
+
+She made a little nervous gesture.
+
+“After he ... did it,” she went on, “I found this letter on his desk.
+It came to him from Holland. I mean to see the people who wrote it and
+discover if they can throw any light on ... on ... the affair ...”
+
+She had taken from her muff a letter, folded in four, written on paper
+of a curious dark slatey-blue colour.
+
+“Won’t you show me the letter?”
+
+“You promise to say nothing about it to any one?”
+
+He nodded.
+
+“Of course.”
+
+Without a word the girl gave him the letter. With slow deliberation he
+unfolded it. The letter was typewritten and headed: “Elias van der
+Spyck & Co. General Importers, Rotterdam.”
+
+This was the letter:
+
+ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+GENERAL IMPORTERS
+ROTTERDAM Rotterdam 25th Nov.
+
+
+_Codes_
+A.B.C.
+Liebler’s
+
+
+_Personal_
+Dear Mr. Parrish,
+
+
+Your favor of even date to hand and contents noted. The last delivery
+of steel was to time but we have had warning from the railway
+authorities that labour troubles at the docks are likely to delay
+future consignments. If you don’t mind we should prefer to settle the
+question of future delivery by Nov. 27 as we have a board meeting on
+the 30th inst. While we fully appreciate your own difficulties with
+labour at home, you will understand that this is a question which we
+cannot afford to adjourn _sine die_.
+
+
+Yours faithfully,
+pro ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+
+
+The signature was illegible.
+
+Euan MacTavish folded the letter again and handed it back to Mary.
+
+“That doesn’t take me any farther,” he said. “What do the police think
+of it?”
+
+“They haven’t seen it,” was the girl’s reply. “I took it without them
+knowing. I mean to make my own investigations about this ...”
+
+“But, my dear Mary,” exclaimed the little Major in a shocked voice,
+“you can’t do things that way! Don’t you see you may be hindering the
+course of justice? The police may attach the greatest importance to
+this letter ...”
+
+“You’re quite right,” retorted the girl, “they do!”
+
+“Then why have you kept it from them?”
+
+Mary Trevert dropped her eyes and a little band of crimson flushed into
+her cheeks.
+
+“Because,” she commenced, “because ... well, because they are trying to
+implicate a friend of mine ...”
+
+The Major took the girl’s hand.
+
+“Mary,” he said, “I’ve known you all your life. I’ve knocked about a
+good bit and know something of the world, I believe. Suppose you tell
+me all about it ...”
+
+Mary Trevert hesitated. Then she said, her hands nervously toying with
+her muff:
+
+“We believe that Robin Greve—you know whom I mean—had a conversation
+with Hartley just before he ... he shot himself. That very afternoon
+Robin had asked me to marry him, but I told him about my engagement. He
+said some awful things about Hartley and rushed away. Ten minutes later
+Hartley Parrish committed suicide. And there _was_ some one talking to
+him in the library. Bude, the butler, heard the voices. This afternoon
+I went down to the library alone ... to see if I could discover
+anything likely to throw any light on poor Hartley’s death. This was
+the only letter I could find. It was tucked away between two
+letter-trays. One tray fitted into the other, and this letter had
+slipped between. It seems to have been overlooked both by Mr. Parrish’s
+secretary and the police ...”
+
+“But I confess,” argued the Major, “that I don’t see how this letter,
+which appears to be a very ordinary business communication, implicates
+anybody at all. Why shouldn’t the police see it?...”
+
+“Because,” said Mary, “directly after discovering it I found Bruce
+Wright, who used to be one of Mr. Parrish’s private secretaries, hiding
+behind the curtains in the library. Now, Bruce Wright is a great friend
+of Robin Greve’s, and I immediately suspected that Robin had sent him
+to Harkings, particularly as ...”
+
+“As what?...”
+
+“As he practically admitted to me, that he had come for a letter
+written on slatey-blue official-looking paper.”
+
+The girl held up the letter from Rotterdam.
+
+“All this,” the girl continued, “made me think that this letter must
+have had something to do with Hartley’s death ...”
+
+“Surely an additional reason for giving it to the police!...”
+
+Mary Trevert set her mouth in an obstinate line.
+
+“No!” she affirmed uncompromisingly. “The police believe that, as the
+result of a scene between Hartley and Robin, Hartley killed himself.
+Until I’ve found out for certain whether this letter implicates Robin
+or not, I sha’n’t give it to the police ...”
+
+“But, if Greve really had nothing to do with this shocking tragedy, the
+police can very easily clear him. Surely they are the best judges of
+his guilt ...”
+
+Again a touch of warm colour suffused the girl’s cheeks. Euan MacTavish
+remarked it and looked at her wistfully.
+
+“Well, well,” he observed gently, “perhaps they’re not, after all!”
+
+The girl looked up at him.
+
+“Euan, dear,” she said impulsively, “I knew you’d understand. Robin and
+Hartley may have had a row, but it was nothing worse. Robin is
+incapable of having threatened—blackmailed—Hartley, as the police seem
+to imagine. I am greatly upset by it all; I can’t see things clear at
+all; but I’m determined not to give the police a weapon like this to
+use against Robin until I know whether it is sharp or blunt, until I
+have found out what bearing, if any, this letter had on Hartley
+Parrish’s death ...”
+
+Euan MacTavish leant back in his chair and said nothing. He finished
+his cigarette, pitched the butt into the fender, and turned to Mary. He
+asked her to let him see the letter again. Once more he read it over.
+Then, handing it back to her, he said:
+
+“It’s all so simple-looking that there may well be something behind it.
+But, if you do go to Holland, how are you going to set about your
+enquiries?”
+
+“That’s where you can help me, Euan, dear,” answered the girl. “I want
+to find somebody at Rotterdam who will help me to make some
+confidential enquiries about this firm. Do you know any one? An
+Englishman would be best, of course ...”
+
+But Euan MacTavish was halfway to the door.
+
+“Wait there,” he commanded, “till I telephone the one man in the world
+who can help us.”
+
+He vanished into the hall where Mary heard him at the instrument.
+
+“We are going round to the Albany,” he said, “to see my friend, Ernest
+Dulkinghorn, of the War Office. He can help us if any one can. But,
+Mary, you must promise me one thing before we go ... you must agree to
+do what old Ernest tells you. You needn’t be afraid. He is the most
+unconventional of men, capable of even approving this madcap scheme of
+yours!”
+
+“I agree,” said Mary, “but how you waste time, Euan! We could have been
+at the Albany by this time!”
+
+In a first-floor oak-panelled suite at the Albany, overlooking the
+covered walk that runs from Piccadilly to Burlington Gardens, they
+found an excessively fair, loose-limbed man whose air of rather
+helpless timidity was heightened by a pair of large tortoise-shell
+spectacles. He appeared excessively embarrassed at the sight of
+MacTavish’s extremely good-looking companion.
+
+“You never told me you were bringing a lady, Euan,” he said
+reproachfully, “or I should have attempted to have made myself more
+presentable.”
+
+He looked down at his old flannel suit and made an apologetic gesture
+which took in the table littered with books and papers and the sofa on
+which lay a number of heavy tomes with marked slips sticking out
+between the pages.
+
+“I am working at a code,” he explained.
+
+“Ernest here,” said MacTavish, turning to Mary, “is the code king. Your
+pals in the Intelligence tell me, Ernest, that you’ve never been beaten
+by a code ...”
+
+The fair man laughed nervously.
+
+“They’ve been pullin’ your leg, Euan,” he said.
+
+“Don’t you believe him, Mary,” retorted her cousin. “This is the man
+who probably did more than any one man to beat the Boche. Whenever the
+brother Hun changed his code, Brother Ernest was called in and he
+produced a key in one, two, three!...”
+
+“What rot you talk, Euan!” said Dulkinghorn. “Working out a code is a
+combination of mathematics, perseverance, and inspiration with a good
+slice of luck thrown in! But isn’t Miss Trevert going to sit down?”
+
+He cleared the sofa with a sweep of his arm which sent the books flying
+on to the floor.
+
+“Ernest,” said MacTavish, “I want you to give Miss Trevert here a
+letter to some reliable fellow in Rotterdam who can assist her in
+making a few enquiries of a very delicate nature!”
+
+“What sort of enquiries?” asked Dulkinghorn bluntly.
+
+“About a firm called Elias van der Spyck,” replied Euan.
+
+“Of Rotterdam?” enquired the other sharply.
+
+“That’s right! Do you know them?”
+
+“I’ve heard the name. They do a big business. But hadn’t Miss Trevert
+better tell her story herself?”
+
+Mary told him of the death of Hartley Parrish and of the letter she had
+found upon his desk. She said nothing of the part played by Robin
+Greve.
+
+“Hmph!” said Dulkinghorn. “You think it might be blackmail, eh? Well,
+well, it might be. Have you got this letter about you? Hand it over and
+let’s have a look at it.”
+
+His nervous manner had vanished. His face seemed to take on a much
+keener expression. He took the letter from Mary and read it through.
+Then he crossed the room to a wall cupboard which he unlocked with a
+key on a chain, produced a small tray on which stood a number of small
+bottles, some paint-brushes and pens, and several little open dishes
+such as are used for developing photographs. He bore the tray to the
+table, cleared a space on a corner by knocking a pile of books and
+papers on the floor, and set it down.
+
+“Just poke the fire!” he said to Euan.
+
+From a drawer in the table he produced a board on which he pinned down
+the letter with a drawing-pin at each corner. Then he dipped a
+paint-brush into one of the bottles and carefully painted the whole
+surface of the sheet with some invisible fluid.
+
+“So!” he said, “we’ll leave that to dry and see if we can find out any
+little secrets, eh? That little tray’ll do the trick if there’s any
+monkey business to this letter of yours, Miss Trevert. That’ll do the
+trick, eh, what?”
+
+He paced the room as he talked, not waiting for an answer, but running
+on as though he were soliloquizing. Presently he turned and swooped
+down on the board.
+
+“Nothing,” he ejaculated. “Now for the acids!”
+
+With a little piece of sponge he carefully wiped the surface of the
+letter and painted it again with a substance from another bottle.
+
+“Just hold that to the fire, would you, Euan?” he said, and gave
+MacTavish the board. He resumed his pacing, but this time he hummed in
+the most unmelodious voice imaginable:
+
+She was bright as a butterfly, as fair as a queen,
+Was pretty little Polly Perkins, of Paddington Green.
+
+
+“It’s dry!”
+
+MacTavish’s voice broke in upon the pacing and the discordant song.
+
+“Well?”
+
+Dulkinghorn snapped out the question.
+
+“No result!” said Euan. He handed him the board.
+
+Dulkinghorn cast a glance at it, swiftly removed the letter, held it
+for an instant up to the electric light, fingered the paper for a
+moment, and handed the letter back to Mary.
+
+“If it’s code,” he said, “it’s a conventional code and that always
+beats the expert ... at first. Go to Rotterdam and call on my friend,
+Mr. William Schulz. I’ll give you a letter for him and he’ll place
+himself entirely at your disposition. Euan will take you over. Holland
+is on your beat, ain’t it, Euan? When do you go next?”
+
+“To-morrow,” said the King’s Messenger. “The boat train leaves
+Liverpool Street at ten o’clock.”
+
+“You’ll want a passport,” said Dulkinghorn, turning to the girl.
+“You’ve got it there? Good. Leave it with me. You shall have it back
+properly viséed by nine o’clock to-morrow morning. Where are you
+stayin’? Almond’s Hotel. Good. I’ll send the letter for Mr. William
+Schulz with it!”
+
+“But,” Euan interjected mildly, after making several ineffectual
+efforts to stem the torrent of speech, “do you really think that Miss
+Trevert will be well advised to risk this trip to Holland alone? Hadn’t
+the police better take the matter in hand?”
+
+“Police be damned!” replied Dulkinghorn heartily. “Miss Trevert will be
+better than a dozen heavy-handed, heavy-footed plain-clothes men. When
+you get to Rotterdam, Miss Trevert, you trot along and call on William
+Schulz. He’ll see you through.”
+
+Then, to indicate without any possibility of misunderstanding, that his
+work had been interrupted long enough, Dulkinghorn got up, and, opening
+the sitting-room door, led the way into the hall. As he stood with his
+hand on the latch of the front door, Mary Trevert asked him:
+
+“Is this Mr. Schulz an Englishman?”
+
+“I’ll let you into a secret,” answered Bulkinghorn; “he _was_. But he
+isn’t now! No, no, I can’t say anything more. You must work it out for
+yourself. But I will give you a piece of advice. The less you say about
+Mr. William Schulz and about your private affairs generally when you
+are on the other side, the better it will be for you! Good-night—and
+good luck!”
+
+Euan MacTavish escorted Mary to Almond’s Hotel.
+
+“I’m very much afraid,” he said to her as they walked along, “that
+you’re butting that pretty head of yours into a wasps’ nest, Mary!”
+
+“Nonsense!” retorted the girl decisively; “I can take care of myself!”
+
+“If I consent to let you go off like this,” said Euan, “it is only on
+one condition ... you must tell Lady Margaret where you are going ...”
+
+“That’ll spoil everything,” answered Mary, pouting; “Mother will want
+to come with me!”
+
+“No, she won’t,” urged her cousin, “not if I tell her. She’ll worry
+herself to death, Mary, if she doesn’t know what has become of you.
+You’d better let me ring her up from the club and tell her you’re
+running over to Rotterdam for a few days. Look here, I’ll tell her
+you’re going with me. She’ll be perfectly happy if she thinks I’m to be
+with you ...”
+
+On that Mary surrendered.
+
+“Have it your own way,” she said.
+
+“I’ll pick you up here at a quarter-past nine in the morning,” said
+Euan as he bade the girl good-night at her hotel, “then we’ll run down
+to the F.O. and collect my bags and go on to the station!”
+
+“Euan,” the girl asked as she gave him her hand, “who is this man
+Schulz, do you think?”
+
+The King’s messenger leant over and whispered:
+
+“Secret Service!”
+
+“Secret Service!”
+
+The girl repeated the words in a hushed voice.
+
+“Then Mr. Dulkinghorn ... is he ... that too?”
+
+Euan nodded shortly.
+
+“One of their leadin’ lights!” he answered.
+
+“But, Euan,”—the girl was very serious now,—“what has the Secret
+Service to do with Hartley Parrish’s clients in Holland?”
+
+The King’s messenger laid a lean finger along his nose.
+
+“Ah!” he said, “what? That’s what is beginning to interest me!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+A WORD WITH MR. JEEKES
+
+
+Life is like a kaleidoscope, that ingenious toy which was the delight
+of the Victorian nursery. Like the glass fragments in its slide,
+different in colour and shape, men’s lives lie about without seeming
+connection; then Fate gives the instrument a shake, and behold! the
+fragments slide into position and form an intricate mosaic....
+
+Mark how Fate proceeded on the wet and raw Sunday evening when Bruce
+Wright, at the instance of Mr. Manderton, quitted Robin Greve’s
+chambers in the Temple, leaving his friend and the detective alone
+together. To tell the truth, Bruce Wright was in no mood for facing the
+provincial gloom of a wet Sunday evening in London, nor did he find
+alluring the prospect of a suburban supper-party at the quiet house
+where he lived with his widowed mother and sisters in South Kensington.
+So, in an irresolute, unsettled frame of mind, he let himself drift
+down the Strand unable to bring himself to go home or, indeed, to form
+any plan.
+
+He crossed Trafalgar Square, a nocturne in yellow and black—lights
+reflected yellow in pavements shining dark with wet—and by and by found
+himself in Pall Mall. Here it was that Fate took a hand. At this moment
+it administered a preliminary jog to the kaleidoscope and brought the
+fragment labelled Bruce Wright into immediate proximity with the piece
+entitled Albert Edward Jeekes.
+
+As Bruce Wright came along Pall Mall, he saw Mr. Jeekes standing on the
+steps of his club. The little secretary appeared to be lost in thought,
+his chin thrust down on the crutch-handle of the umbrella he clutched
+to himself. So absorbed was he in his meditations that he did not
+observe Bruce Wright stop and regard him. It was not until our young
+man had touched him on the arm that he looked up with a start.
+
+“God bless my soul!” he exclaimed, “if it isn’t young Wright!”
+
+Now the sight of Jeekes had put a great idea into the head of our young
+friend. He had been more chagrined than he had let it appear to Robin
+Greve at his failure to recover the missing letter from the library at
+Harkings. To obtain the letter—or, at any rate, a copy of it—from
+Jeekes and to hand it to Robin Greve would, thought Bruce, restore his
+prestige as an amateur detective, at any rate in his own eyes.
+Moreover, a chat with Jeekes over the whole affair seemed a Heaven-sent
+exit from the _impasse_ of boredom into which he had drifted this wet
+Sunday evening.
+
+“How are you, Mr. Jeekes?” said Bruce briskly. (“Mr.” Jeekes was the
+form of address always accorded to the principal secretary in the
+Hartley Parrish establishment and Bruce resumed it instinctively.) “I
+was anxious to see you. I called in at the club this afternoon. Did you
+get my message?”
+
+The little secretary blinked at him through his _pince-nez_.
+
+“There have been so many messages about this shocking affair that
+really I forget ...”
+
+He sighed heavily.
+
+“Couldn’t I come in and have a yarn now?”
+
+Bruce spoke cajolingly. But Mr. Jeekes wrinkled his brow fussily.
+
+There was so much to do; he had had a long day; if Wright would excuse
+him ...
+
+“As a matter of fact,” explained Bruce with an eye on his man, “I
+wanted to see you particularly about a letter ...”
+
+“Some other time ... to-morrow ...”
+
+“Written on dark-blue paper ... you know, one of those letters H.P.
+made all the fuss about.”
+
+Mr. Jeekes took his _pince-nez_ from his nose, gave the glasses a hasty
+rub with his pocket-handkerchief, and replaced them. He slanted a long
+narrow look at the young man.
+
+Then, “What letter do you mean?” he asked composedly.
+
+“A letter which lay on H.P.’s desk in the library at Harkings when they
+found the body ...”
+
+“There _was_ a letter there then ...?”
+
+“Haven’t _you_ got it?”
+
+Jeekes shook his head.
+
+“Come inside for a minute and tell me about this,” he said.
+
+He led Bruce into the vast smoking-room of the club. They took seats in
+a distant corner near the blazing fire. The room was practically
+deserted.
+
+Now, Mr. Jeekes’s excessive carefulness about money had been a
+long-standing joke amongst his assistants when Bruce Wright had
+belonged to Hartley Parrish’s secretarial staff. Thrift had become with
+him more than a habit. It was a positive obsession. It revealed itself
+in such petty meannesses as a perpetual cadging for matches or small
+change and a careful abstention from any offer of hospitality. Never in
+the whole course of his service had Bruce Wright heard of Mr. Jeekes
+taking anybody out to lunch or extending any of the usual hospitalities
+of life. He was not a little surprised, therefore, to hear Jeekes ask
+him what he would take.
+
+Bruce said he would take some coffee.
+
+“Have a liqueur? Have a cigar?” said Jeekes, turning to Bruce from the
+somnolent waiter who had answered the bell.
+
+There was a strange eagerness, a sort of over-done cordiality, in the
+invitation which contrasted so strongly with the secretary’s habits
+that Robin felt dimly suspicious. He suddenly formed the idea that Mr.
+Jeekes wanted to pump him. He refused the liqueur, but accepted a
+cigar. Jeekes waited until they had been served and the waiter had
+withdrawn silently into the dim vastness of the great room before he
+spoke.
+
+“Now, then, young Wright,” he said, “what’s this about a letter? Tell
+me from the beginning ...”
+
+Bruce told him of the letter from Elias van der Spyck & Co. which Robin
+had seen upon the desk in the library at Harkings, of his (Bruce’s)
+journey down to Harkings that afternoon and of his failure to find the
+letter.
+
+“But why do you assume that I’ve got it?”
+
+There was an air of forced joviality about Mr. Jeekes as he put the
+question which did not in the least, as he undoubtedly intended it
+should, disguise his eagerness. On the contrary, it lent his rather
+undistinguished features an expression of cunning which can only be
+described as knavish. Bruce Wright, who, as will already have been
+seen, was a young man with all his wits about him, did not fail to
+remark it. The result was that he hastily revised an intention
+half-formed in his mind of taking Jeekes a little way into his
+confidence regarding Robin Greve’s doubts and suspicions about Hartley
+Parrish’s death.
+
+But he answered the secretary’s question readily enough.
+
+“Because Miss Trevert told me you went to the library immediately you
+arrived at Harkings last night. I consequently assumed that you must
+have taken away the letter seen by Robin Greve ...”
+
+Mr. Jeekes drew in his breath with a sucking sound. It was a little
+trick of his when about to speak.
+
+“So you saw Miss Trevert at Harkings, eh?”
+
+Bruce laughed.
+
+“I did,” he said. “We had quite a dramatic meeting, too—it was like a
+scene from a film!”
+
+And, with a little good-humoured exaggeration, he gave Mr. Jeekes a
+description of his encounter with Mary. And lest it should seem that
+young Wright was allowing Mr. Jeekes to pump him, it should be stated
+that Bruce was well aware of one of the secretary’s most notable
+characteristics, a common failing, be it remarked, of the small-minded,
+and that was an overpowering suspicion of anything resembling a leading
+question. In order, therefore, to gain his confidence, he willingly
+satisfied the other’s curiosity regarding his visit to Harkings hoping
+thereby to extract some information as to the whereabouts of the letter
+on the slatey-blue paper.
+
+“There was no letter of this description on the desk, you say, when you
+and Miss Trevert looked?” asked Jeekes when Bruce had finished his
+story.
+
+“Nothing but circulars and bills,” Bruce replied.
+
+Mr. Jeekes leaned forward and drank off his coffee with a swift
+movement. Then he said carelessly:
+
+“From what you tell me, Miss Trevert would have been perhaps a minute
+alone in the room without your seeing her?”
+
+Bruce agreed with a nod.
+
+Adjusting his _pince-nez_ on his nose the secretary rose to his feet.
+
+“Very glad to have seen you again, Wright,” he said, thrusting out a
+limp hand; “must run off now—mass of work to get through ...”
+
+Then Bruce risked his leading question.
+
+“If you haven’t got this letter,” he observed, “what has become of it?
+Obviously the police are not likely to have taken it because they know
+nothing of its significance ...”
+
+“Quite, quite,” answered Mr. Jeekes absently, but without replying to
+the young man’s question.
+
+“Why,” asked Bruce boldly, “did old H.P. make such a mystery about
+these letters on the slatey-blue paper, Mr. Jeekes?”
+
+The secretary wrinkled up his thin lips and sharp nose into a cunning
+smile.
+
+“When you get to be my age, young Wright,” he made answer, “you will
+understand that every man has a private side to his life. And, if you
+have learnt your job properly, you will also know that a private
+secretary’s first duty is to mind his own business. About this letter
+now—it’s the first I’ve heard of it. Take my advice and don’t bother
+your head about it. _If_ it exists ...”
+
+“But it _does_ exist,” broke in Bruce quickly. “Mr. Greve saw it and
+read it himself ...”
+
+Mr. Jeekes laughed drily.
+
+“Don’t you forget, young Wright,” he said, jerking his chin towards the
+youngster in a confidential sort of way, “don’t you forget that Mr.
+Greve is anxious to find a plausible motive for Mr. Parrish’s suicide.
+People are talking, you understand! That’s all I’ve got to say! Just
+you think it over ...”
+
+Bruce Wright bristled up hotly at this.
+
+“I don’t see you have any reason to try and impugn Greve’s motive for
+wishing to get at the bottom of this mysterious affair ...”
+
+Mr. Jeekes affected to be engrossed in the manicuring of his nails.
+Very intently he rubbed the nails of one hand against the palm of the
+other.
+
+“No mystery!” he said decisively with a shake of the head: “no mystery
+whatsoever about it, young Wright, except what the amateur detectives
+will try and make it out to be. Or has Mr. Greve discovered a mystery
+already?”
+
+The question came out artfully. But in the quick glance which
+accompanied it, there was an intent watchfulness which startled Bruce
+accustomed as he was to the mild and unemotional ways of the little
+secretary.
+
+“Not that I know of,” said Bruce. “Greve is only puzzled like all of us
+that H.P. should have done a thing like this!”
+
+Mr. Jeekes was perfectly impassive again.
+
+“The nerves, young Wright! The nerves!” he said impressively. “Harley
+Street, not Mr. Greve, will supply the motive to this sad affair,
+believe me!”
+
+With that he accompanied the young man to the door of the club and from
+the vestibule watched him sally forth into the rain of Pall Mall.
+
+Then Mr. Jeekes turned to the hall porter.
+
+“Please get me Stevenish one-three-seven,” he said, “it’s a trunk call.
+Don’t let them put you off with ‘No reply.’ It’s Harkings, and they are
+expecting me to ring them. I shall be in the writing room.”
+
+When, twenty minutes later, Mr. Jeekes emerged from the trunk call
+telephone box in the club vestibule, his mouth was drooping at the
+corners and his hands trembled curiously. He stood for an instant in
+thought tapping his foot on the marble floor of the deserted hall dimly
+lit by a single electric bulb burning over the hall porter’s box. Then
+he went back to the writing-room and returned with a yellow telegram
+form.
+
+“Send a boy down to Charing Cross with that at once, please,” he said
+to the night porter.
+
+Fate which had brought Bruce Wright face to face with Mr. Jeekes gave
+the kaleidoscope another jerk that night. As Bruce Wright entered the
+Tube Station at Dover Street to go home to South Kensington, it
+occurred to him that he would ring up Robin Greve at his chambers in
+the Temple and give him an outline of his (Bruce’s) talk with Jeekes.
+Bruce went to the public callbox in the station, but the rhythmic
+“Zoom-er! Zoom-er! Zoom-er!” which announces that a number is engaged
+was all the satisfaction he got. The prospect of waiting about the
+draughty station exit did not appeal to him, so he decided to go home
+and telephone Robin, as originally arranged, in the morning.
+
+Just about the time that he made this resolve, Robin in his rooms in
+the Temple was hanging up the receiver of his telephone with a dazed
+expression in his eyes. Mr. Manderton had rung him up with a piece of
+intelligence which fairly bewildered him. It bewildered Mr. Manderton
+also, as the detective was frank enough to acknowledge.
+
+Mary Trevert had gone to Rotterdam for a few days in company with her
+cousin, Major Euan MacTavish. Mr. Manderton had received this
+astonishing information by telephone from Harkings a few minutes
+before.
+
+“It bothers me properly, Mr. Greve, sir,” the detective had added.
+
+“There’s only one thing for it, Manderton,” Robin had said; “I’ll have
+to go after her ...”
+
+“The very thing I was about to suggest myself, Mr. Greve. You’re
+unofficial-like and can be more helpful than if we detailed one of our
+own people from the Yard. And with the investigation in its present
+stage I don’t reely feel justified in going off on a wild-goose chase
+myself. There are several important enquiries going forward now,
+notably as to where Mr. Parrish bought his pistol. But we certainly
+ought to find out what takes Miss Trevert careering off to Rotterdam in
+this way ...”
+
+“It seems almost incredible,” Robin had said, “but it looks to me as
+though Miss Trevert must have found out something about the letter ...”
+
+“Or found it herself ...”
+
+“By Jove! She was in the library when Bruce Wright was there. This
+settles it, Manderton. I must go!”
+
+“Then,” said the detective, “I’m going to entrust you with that slotted
+sheet of paper again. For I have an idea, Mr. Greve, that you may get a
+glimpse of that letter before I do. I’ll send a messenger round with it
+at once.”
+
+Then a difficulty arose. Manderton had not got the girl’s address. They
+had no address at Harkings. Nor did he know what train Miss Trevert had
+taken. She might have gone by the 9 P.M. that night. Had Mr. Greve got
+a passport? Yes, Robin had a passport, but it was not viséed for
+Holland. That meant he could not leave until the following evening.
+Then Robin had a “brain wave.”
+
+“There’s an air service to Rotterdam!” he exclaimed. “It doesn’t leave
+till noon. A pal of mine went across by it only last week. That will
+leave me time to get my passport stamped at the Dutch Consulate, to
+catch the air mail, and be in Rotterdam by tea-time! And, Manderton, I
+shall go to the Grand Hotel. That’s where my friend stopped. Wire me
+there if there’s any news ...”
+
+Air travel is so comfortably regulated at the present day that Robin
+Greve, looking back at his trip by air from Croydon Aerodrome to the
+big landing-ground outside Rotterdam, acknowledged that he had more
+excitement in his efforts to stir into action a lethargic Dutch
+passport official in London, so as to enable him to catch the air mail,
+than in the smooth and uneventful voyage across the Channel. He reached
+Rotterdam on a dull and muggy afternoon and lost no time in depositing
+his bag at the Grand Hotel. An enquiry at the office there satisfied
+him that Mary Trevert had not registered her name in the hotel book.
+Then he set out in a taxi upon a dreary round of the principal hotels.
+
+But fate, which loves to make a sport of lovers, played him a scurvy
+trick. In the course of his search it brought Robin to that very hotel
+towards which, at the selfsame moment, Mary Trevert was driving from
+the station. By the time she arrived, Robin was gone and, with despair
+in his heart, had started on a tour of the second-class hotels,
+checking them by the Baedeker he had bought in the Strand that morning.
+It was eight o’clock by the time he had finished. He had drawn a blank.
+
+The sight of a huge, plate-glass-fronted café reminded him that in the
+day’s rush he had omitted to lunch. So he paid off his taxi and dined
+off succulent Dutch beefsteak, pounded as soft as velvet and swimming
+with butter and served in a bed of deliciously browned ‘earth apples,’
+as the Holländers call potatoes. The café was stiflingly hot; there was
+a large and noisy orchestra in the front part and a vast
+billiard-saloon in the back—a place of shaded lights, clicking balls,
+and guttural exclamations. The heat of the place, the noise and the
+cries combined with the effect of his long journey in the fresh air to
+make him very drowsy. When he had finished dinner he was content to
+postpone his investigations until the morrow and go to bed. Emerging
+from the café he found to his relief that his hotel was but a few
+houses away.
+
+As he sat at breakfast the next morning, enjoying the admirable Dutch
+coffee, he reviewed the situation very calmly but very thoroughly. He
+told himself that he had no indication as to Mary Trevert’s business in
+Rotterdam save the supposition that she had found the van der Spyck
+letter and had come to Rotterdam to investigate the matter for herself.
+He realized that the hypothesis was thin, for, in the first place, Mary
+could have no inkling as to the hidden significance of the document,
+and, in the second place, she was undoubtedly under the impression that
+Hartley Parrish was driven to suicide by his (Robin’s) threats.
+
+But, in the absence of any other apparent explanation of the girl’s
+extraordinary decision to come to Rotterdam, Robin decided he would
+accept the theory that she had come about the van der Spyck letter. How
+like Mary, after all, he mused, self-willed, fearless, independent, to
+rush off to Holland on her own on a quest like this! Where would her
+investigations lead her? To the offices of Elias van der Spyck & Co.,
+to be sure! Robin threw his napkin down on the table, thrust back his
+chair, and went off to the hotel porter to locate the address of the
+firm.
+
+The telephone directory showed that the offices were situated in the
+Oranien-Straat, about ten minutes’ walk from the hotel, in the business
+quarter of the city round the Bourse. Robin glanced at the clock. It
+was twenty minutes to ten. The principals, he reflected, were not
+likely to be at the office before ten o’clock. It was a fine morning
+and he decided to walk. The hotel porter gave him a few simple
+directions: the gentleman could not miss the way, he said; so Robin
+started off, hope high in his breast of getting a step nearer to the
+elucidation of the mystery of the library at Harkings.
+
+A brisk walk of about ten minutes through the roaring streets of the
+city brought him to a big open square from which, he had been
+instructed, the Oranien-Straat turned off. He was just passing a large
+and important-looking post-office—he remarked it because he looked up
+at a big clock in the window to see the time—when a man came hastily
+through the swing-door and stopped irresolutely on the pavement in
+front, glancing to right and left as a man does who is looking for a
+cab.
+
+At the sight of him Robin could scarcely suppress an expression of
+amazement. It was Mr. Jeekes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+THE MAN WITH THE YELLOW FACE
+
+
+In a narrow, drowsy side street at Rotterdam, bisected by a somnolent
+canal, stood flush with the red-brick sidewalk a small clean house.
+Wire blinds affixed to the windows of its ground and first floors gave
+it a curious blinking air as though its eyes were only half open. To
+the neat green front door was affixed a large brass plate inscribed
+with the single name: “Schulz.”
+
+A large woman, in a pink print dress with a white cloth bound about her
+head, was vigorously polishing the plate as, on the morning following
+her departure from London, Mary Trevert, Dulkinghorn’s letter of
+introduction in her pocket, arrived in front of the residence of Mr.
+William Schulz. Euan MacTavish had, on the previous evening, seen her
+to her hotel and had then—very reluctantly, as it seemed to
+Mary—departed to continue his journey to The Hague, his taxi piled high
+with white-and-green Foreign Office bags, heavily sealed with scarlet
+wax.
+
+Mary Trevert approached the woman, her letter of introduction, which
+Dulkinghorn, being an unusual person, had fastened down, in her hand.
+
+“Schulz?” she said interrogatively.
+
+“_Nicht da_,” replied the woman without looking up from her rubbing.
+
+“Has he gone out?” asked Mary in English.
+
+“_Verstehe nicht_!” mumbled the woman.
+
+But she put down her cleaning-rag and, breathing heavily, mustered the
+girl with a leisurely stare.
+
+Mary repeated the question in German whereupon the woman brightened up
+considerably.
+
+The _Herr_ was not at home. The _Herr_ had gone out. On business,
+_jawohl_. To the bank, perhaps. But the _Herr_ would be back in time
+for _Mittagessen_ at noon. There was beer soup followed by
+_Rindfleisch_ ...
+
+Mary hesitated an instant. She was wondering whether she should leave
+her letter of introduction. She decided she would leave it. So she
+wrote on her card: “Anxious to see you as soon as possible” and the
+name of her hotel, and gave it, with the letter, to the woman.
+
+“Please see that Herr Schulz gets that directly he comes in,” she said.
+“It is important!”
+
+“_Gut, gut_!” said the woman, wiping her hands on her apron. She took
+the card and letter, and Mary, thanking her, set off to go back to her
+hotel.
+
+About twenty yards from Mr. Schulz’s house a narrow alley ran off. As
+Mary turned to regain the little footbridge across the canal to return
+to the noisy street which would take her back to the hotel, she caught
+sight of a man disappearing down this alley.
+
+She only had a glimpse of him, but it was sufficient to startle her
+considerably. He was a small man wearing a tweed cap and a tweed
+travelling ulster of a vivid brown. It was not these details, however,
+which took her aback. It was the fact that in the glimpse she had had
+of the man’s face she had seemed to recognize the features of Mr.
+Albert Edward Jeekes.
+
+“What an extraordinary thing!” Mary said to herself. “It _can’t_ be Mr.
+Jeekes. But if it is not, it is some one strikingly like him!”
+
+To get another view of the stranger she hurried to the corner of the
+alley. It was a mere thread of a lane, not above six yards wide,
+running between the houses a distance of some sixty yards to the next
+street. But the alley was empty. The stranger had disappeared.
+
+Mary went a little way down the lane. A wooden fence ran down it on
+either side, with doors at intervals apparently giving on the back
+yards of the houses in the street. There was no sign of Mr. Jeekes’s
+double, so she retraced her steps and returned to her hotel without
+further incident.
+
+She had not been back more than half an hour when a waiter came in to
+the lounge where she was sitting.
+
+“Miss Trevert?” he said. “Zey ask for you at ze delephone!”
+
+He took her to a cabin under the main staircase.
+
+“This is Miss Trevert speaking!” said Mary.
+
+“I am speaking for Mr. Schulz,” a man’s voice answered—rather a nasal
+voice with a shade of foreign inflexion—“he has had your letter. He is
+very sorry he has been detained in the country, but would be very glad
+if you would lunch with him to-day at his country-house.”
+
+“I shall be very pleased,” the girl replied. “Is it far?”
+
+“Only just outside Rotterdam,” the voice responded. “Mr. Schulz will
+send the car to the hotel to pick you up at 11.45. The driver will ask
+for you. Is that all right?”
+
+“Certainly,” said Mary. “Please thank Mr. Schulz and tell him I will
+expect the car at a quarter to twelve!”
+
+Punctually at the appointed hour an open touring-car drove up to the
+hotel. Mary was waiting at the entrance. The driver was a young
+Dutchman in a blue serge suit. He jumped out and came up to Mary.
+
+“Mees Trevert?” he said.
+
+Mary nodded, whereupon he helped her into the car, then got back into
+the driving-seat and they drove away.
+
+A run of about twenty minutes through trim suburbs brought them out on
+a long straight road, paved with bricks and lined with poplars. The day
+was fine with a little bright sunshine from time to time and a high
+wind which kept the sails of the windmills dotting the landscape
+turning briskly. They followed the road for a bit, then branched off
+down a side turning which led to a black gate. It bore the name “Villa
+Bergendal” in white letters. The gate opened into a short drive fringed
+by thick laurel bushes which presently brought them in view of an ugly
+square red-brick house.
+
+The car drew up at a creeper-hung porch paved in red tiles. The
+chauffeur helped Mary to alight and, pushing open a glass door, ushered
+the girl into a square, comfortably furnished hall. Some handsome
+Oriental rugs were spread about: trophies of native weapons hung on the
+walls, and there were some fine specimens of old Dutch chests and blue
+Delft ware.
+
+The chauffeur led the way across the hall to a door at the far end. As
+Mary followed him, something bright lying on one of the chests caught
+her eye. It was a vivid brown travelling ulster and on it lay a brown
+tweed cap.
+
+Mary Trevert was no fool. She was, on the contrary, a remarkably
+quick-witted young person. The sight of that rather “loud” overcoat
+instantly recalled the stranger so strikingly resembling Mr. Jeekes who
+had disappeared down the lane as she was coming away from Mr. Schulz’s
+house. Mr. Jeekes _was_ in Rotterdam then, and had, of course, been
+sent by her mother to look after her. What a fool she had been to allow
+Euan MacTavish to persuade her to tell her mother of her plans!
+
+Mary suddenly felt very angry. How dare Mr. Jeekes spy on her like
+this! She was quite capable, she told herself, of handling her own
+affairs, and she intended to tell the secretary so very plainly. And
+if, as she was beginning to believe, Mr. Schulz were acting hand in
+glove with Mr. Jeekes, she would let him know equally plainly that she
+had no intention of troubling him, but would make her own
+investigations independently. With a heightened colour she followed the
+chauffeur and passed through the door he held open for her.
+
+She found herself in a small, pleasant room with a bright note of
+colour in the royal blue carpet and window-curtains. A log-fire burned
+cheerfully in the fireplace before which a large red-leather
+Chesterfield was drawn up. On the walls hung some good old Dutch
+prints, and there were a couple of bookcases containing books which, by
+their bindings at least, seemed old and valuable.
+
+At the farther end of the room was another door across which a curtain
+of royal blue was drawn. Mary had scarcely entered the room when this
+door opened and a man appeared.
+
+He was carefully dressed in a well-cut suit of some dark material and
+wore a handsome pearl pin in his black tie. He was a dark, sallow type
+of man, his skin yellowed as though from long residence in the tropics.
+A small black moustache, carefully trained outwards from the lips,
+disclosed, as he smiled a greeting at his visitor, a line of broken
+yellow teeth. His hair, which was grizzled at the temples, was black
+and oily and brushed right back off the forehead. With his coarse black
+hair, his sallow skin, and his small beady eyes, rather like a snake’s,
+there was something decidedly un-English about him. As Mary Trevert
+looked at him, somewhat taken aback by his sudden appearance, she
+became conscious of a vague feeling of mistrust welling up within her.
+
+The man closed the door behind him and advanced into the room, his hand
+extended. Mary took it. It was dank and cold to the touch.
+
+“A thousand apologies, my dear Miss Trevert,” he said in a soft, silky
+voice, a trifle nasal, with a touch of Continental inflexion, “for
+asking you to come out here to see me. The fact is I had an important
+business conference here this morning and I have a second one this
+afternoon. It was materially impossible for me to come into Rotterdam
+... But I am forgetting my manners. Let me introduce myself. I am Mr.
+Schulz ...”
+
+Mary Trevert looked at him thoughtfully. Was this the friend of Ernest
+Dulkinghorn, the man of confidence to whom he had recommended her? A
+feeling of great uneasiness came over her. She listened. The house was
+absolutely still. From the utter silence enveloping it—for aught she
+knew—she and her unsavoury-looking companion might be the only persons
+in it. And then she realized that, on the faith of a telephone call,
+she had blindly come out to a house, the very address of which was
+utterly unknown to her.
+
+She fought down a sudden sensation of panic that made her want to
+scream, to bolt from the room into the fresh air, anywhere away from
+those snake eyes, that soft voice, that clammy hand. She collected her
+thoughts, remembered that Jeekes must be somewhere in the house, as his
+outdoor things were in the hall. The recollection reminded her of her
+determination to tolerate no interference from Jeekes or her mother.
+
+So she merely answered: “It was no trouble to come,” and waited for the
+man to speak again.
+
+He pulled forward the Chesterfield and made her sit down beside him.
+
+“I had the letter of introduction,” he said, “and I want you to know
+that my services are entirely at your disposal. Now, what can I do for
+you?”
+
+He looked at the girl intently—rather anxiously, she thought.
+
+“That was explained in the letter,” she answered, meeting his gaze
+unflinchingly.
+
+“Yes, yes, of course, I know. I meant in what way do you propose to
+make use of my ... my local knowledge?”
+
+“I will tell you that, Mr. Schulz,” Mary Trevert said in a measured
+voice, “when you tell me what you think of the mission which has
+brought me here ...”
+
+The snake’s eyes narrowed a little.
+
+“For a young lady to have come out alone to Holland on a mission of
+this description speaks volumes for your pluck and self-reliance, Miss
+Trevert ...”
+
+“I asked you what you thought of my mission to Holland, Mr. Schulz,”
+Mary interposed coldly.
+
+It was beginning to dawn on her that Mr. Schulz did not seem to know
+anything about the object of her visit, but, on the contrary, was
+seeking to elicit this from her by a process of adroit
+cross-examination. She was rather puzzled, therefore, but also somewhat
+relieved when he said:
+
+“I can give my opinion better after you have shown me the letter ...”
+
+“What letter?” said the girl.
+
+“The letter from Elias van der Spyck and Company, to be sure,” retorted
+the other quickly.
+
+Mary dipped her hand into her black fox muff. Then she hesitated. She
+could not rid herself of the suspicion that this man with the sallow
+face and the yellow fangs was not to be trusted. She withdrew her hand.
+
+“This is a very delicate matter, Mr. Schulz,” she said. “Our
+appointment was made by telephone, and I think therefore I should ask
+you to show me Mr. Dulkinghorn’s letter of introduction before I go any
+further, so that I may feel quite sure in my mind that I am dealing
+with one in whom I know Mr. Dulkinghorn to have every confidence ...”
+
+Mr. Schulz’s yellow face went a shade yellower. His mouth twisted
+itself into a wry smile, his thin lips fleshing his discoloured teeth.
+He stood up rather stiffly.
+
+“You are a guest in my house, Miss Trevert,” he said with offended
+dignity, “I scarcely expected you to impugn my good faith. Surely my
+word is sufficient ...”
+
+He turned his back on her and took a couple of paces into the room in
+apparent vexation. Then he returned and stood at the back of the
+Chesterfield behind her. His feet made no sound on the thick carpet,
+but some vague instinct made Mary Trevert turn her head. She saw him
+standing there, twisting his hands nervously behind his back.
+
+“Surely my word is sufficient ...” he repeated.
+
+“In business,” said Mary boldly, “one cannot be too careful.”
+
+“Besides,” Mr. Schulz urged, “this was a private letter which Mr. ...
+Mr. Dulkinghorn certainly did not expect you to see. That makes it
+awkward ...”
+
+“I think in the circumstances,” said Mary, “I must insist, Mr. Schulz!”
+
+She was now feeling horribly frightened. She strained her ears in vain
+for a sound. The whole house seemed wrapped in a grave-like quiet. The
+smile had never left Mr. Schulz’s face. But it was a cruel, wolfish
+grin without a ray of kindliness in it. The girl felt her heart turn
+cold within her every time her eyes fell on the mask-like face.
+
+Mr. Schulz shrugged shoulders.
+
+“Since you insist ...” he remarked. “But I think it is scarcely fair on
+our friend Dulkinghorn. The letter is in the safe in my office next
+door. If you come along I will get it out and show it to you ...”
+
+He spoke unconcernedly, but stiffly, as though to emphasize the slight
+put upon his dignity. One hand thrust jauntily in his jacket pocket, he
+stepped across the carpet to the door with the blue curtain. He opened
+it, then stood back for the girl to pass in before him.
+
+“After you!” he said.
+
+He had placed himself so close to the doorway that the black fox about
+her neck brushed his face as she passed. Suddenly a warm, sickly whiff
+of some sweet-smelling odour came to her. She stopped on the instant,
+irresolute, alarmed. Then a dank hand was clapped on her face, covering
+nostrils and mouth with a soft cloth reeking with a horrible cloying
+drug. An arm with muscles like steel was passed round her waist and
+held her in a vice-like grip against which she struggled in vain. She
+felt her senses slipping, slipping ...
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+TWO’S COMPANY ...
+
+
+On the pavement opposite the post-office stood one of those high
+pillars which are commonly used in Continental cities for the display
+of theatre and concert advertisements. Robin instantly stepped behind
+it. It was not that he wished to avoid being seen by Jeekes as much as
+that he had not decided in his mind what course he had best pursue.
+From behind the cover of the pillar he mustered his man.
+
+The little secretary looked strange and unfamiliar in a sporting sort
+of travelling ulster of a tawny brown hue and a cap of the same stuff.
+But there was no mistaking the watery eyes, the sharp nose, the
+features. He had obviously not seen Robin. His whole attention was
+rivetted on the street. He kept peering nervously to right and left as
+though expecting some one.
+
+Suddenly he stepped forward quickly to the kerb. Then Robin saw an open
+car detach itself from the press of traffic in the square and, driven
+very fast, approach the post-office. It was a large car with a grey
+body; a sallow man wearing a black felt hat sat at the wheel. The car
+drew up at the kerb and halted within a few feet of the advertisement
+pillar. Robin backed hastily round it to escape observation. He had
+resolved to do nothing until he had ascertained who Jeekes’s friend was
+and what business the secretary had with him.
+
+“It’s all right,” Robin heard the man in the car say in English; “I
+telephoned the girl and she’s coming. What a piece of luck, eh?”
+
+Robin heard the click of the car door as it swung open.
+
+“... better get along out there at once,” he heard the man in the car
+say, “I’m sending Jan in the car for her at ...”
+
+Then Robin stepped out unexpectedly from behind his pillar and cannoned
+into Mr. Jeekes, who was just entering the car.
+
+“Good-morning,” said Robin with easy assurance; “I’m delighted to hear
+that you’ve found Miss Trevert, Jeekes, for, to tell the truth, I was
+feeling somewhat uneasy about her ...”
+
+The secretary’s face was a study. The surprise of seeing Robin, who had
+dropped, it seemed to him, out of the clouds into the city of
+Rotterdam, deprived him of speech for an instant. He blinked his eyes,
+looked this way and that, and finally, with a sort of blind gesture,
+readjusted his _pince-nez_ and glared at the intruder.
+
+Then, without a word, he got into the car. But Robin, with a firm hand,
+stayed the door which Jeekes would have closed behind him.
+
+“Excuse me,” Robin remarked decidedly, “but I’m coming with you if your
+friend”—at this he looked at the man in the driving-seat—“has no
+objection ...”
+
+Mr. Jeekes cast a frightened glance at the sallow man.
+
+The latter said impatiently:
+
+“We’re wasting time, Jeekes. Who is this gentleman?”
+
+“This is Mr. Greve,” said the little secretary hurriedly, “a friend of
+Mr. Parrish and Miss Trevert. He was staying in the house at the time
+of the tragedy. He has, I understand, taken a prominent part in the
+investigations as to the motive of our poor friend’s sad end ...”
+
+Mr. Jeekes looked to Robin as he said this as though for confirmation.
+The man at the driving-wheel turned and gave the little secretary a
+quick glance. Then he mustered Robin with a slow, insolent stare. He
+had a yellow face and small black eyes quick and full of intelligence.
+
+Then he bowed.
+
+“My name is Victor,” he said. “The sad news about Mr. Parrish was a
+great shock to me. I met him several times in London. Were you anxious
+to see Miss ... er ... Trevert? She has come to Rotterdam (so my friend
+Jeekes tells me) to look into certain important business transactions
+which the late Mr. Parrish had in hand at the time of his death. Did I
+understand you to say that you were uneasy about this lady? Is there
+any mystery about her journey?...”
+
+For the moment Robin felt somewhat abashed. The question was rather a
+poser. Was there, in effect, any mystery about Mary’s trip to Rotterdam
+accompanied by her cousin? She had acquainted her people at Harkings
+with her plans. What if, after all, everything was open and
+above-board, and she had merely come to Rotterdam on business? It
+seemed difficult to believe. Surely in such a case the solicitor,
+Bardy, would have been the more suitable emissary ...
+
+“You’ll forgive us, I’m sure,” the yellow-faced man remarked suavely,
+“but we’re in a great hurry. Would you mind closing that door?...”
+
+Robin closed the door. But he got into the car first. As he had stood
+on the pavement in doubt, the recollection of Jeekes’s inexplicable lie
+about the payments made by Parrish for the French lady in the Mayfair
+flat came back to him and deepened the suspicion in his mind. It would
+in any case, he told himself, do no harm to find out who this rather
+unsavoury-looking Rotterdam friend of Jeekes’s was ...
+
+So Robin jumped into the car and sat down on the back seat next to the
+secretary.
+
+“It happens,” he said, “that I am particularly anxious to see Miss
+Trevert. As I gather you are going to meet her, I feel sure you won’t
+mind my accompanying you ...”
+
+The yellow-faced man turned with an easy smile.
+
+“Sorry,” he said, “but we are having a meeting with Miss Trevert on
+private business and I’m afraid we cannot take you along. Jeekes here,
+however, could take a message to Miss Trevert and if she _wanted_ to
+see you ...”
+
+He broke off significantly and smiled slily at the secretary. Robin
+felt himself flush. So Jeekes had been telling tales out of school to
+Mr. Victor, had he? The young man squared his jaw. That settled it. He
+would stay.
+
+“I promise not to butt in on your private business,” he replied, “but I
+simply must see Miss Trevert before I go back to London. So, if you
+don’t mind, I think I’ll come along ...”
+
+The yellow-faced man glanced at his wrist watch.
+
+“I can’t prevent you!” he exclaimed. Then he rapped out something in
+Dutch to Jeekes. The secretary leaned forward to catch the remark. The
+yellow-faced man threw in the clutch.
+
+“Goed!” (good), answered Jeekes in the same language, and resumed his
+seat as the car glided smoothly away from the kerb into the traffic of
+the busy square. Robin settled himself back in the seat with an
+inaudible sigh of satisfaction. He did not like the look of Jeekes’s
+companion, he told himself, and Mr. Victor, whoever he was, had
+certainly manifested no great desire for Robin’s company. But he was
+going to see Mary. That was all that counted for the moment.
+
+They threaded their way through the streets in silence. It passed
+through Robin’s mind to start a discussion with Jeekes about the death
+of Hartley Parrish. But in the circumstances he conceived it might
+easily assume a controversial character, and he did not want to take
+any risk of jeopardizing his chance of meeting Mary again. And no other
+subject of conversation occurred to him. He did not know Jeekes at all
+well, knew him in fact only as a week-end guest knows the private
+secretary of his host, a shadowy personality, indispensable and part of
+the household, but scarcely more than a name ...
+
+The car had put on speed as they left the more crowded streets and
+emerged into the suburbs. Now they were running over a broad straight
+main road lined with poplars. Robin wondered whither they were bound.
+He was about to put the question to the secretary when the man Victor
+turned his head and said over his shoulder:
+
+“_Nu_!”
+
+At the same moment the speed of the car sensibly diminished.
+
+Jeekes put his arm across the young man at his side.
+
+“That door,” he said, touching his sleeve, “doesn’t seem to be properly
+shut. Would you mind ...”
+
+Robin pushed the door with his hand.
+
+“It seems all right,” he said.
+
+“Permit me ...”
+
+The secretary stretched across and pulled back the latch, releasing the
+door. It swung out.
+
+“Now close it,” said Mr. Jeekes.
+
+The door was flapping to and fro with the swaying of the car over the
+rough road and Robin had to half rise in order to comply with the
+request. He was leaning forward, steadying himself with one hand
+grasping the back of the driving-seat, when he received a tremendous
+shove in the back. At the same moment the car seemed to leap forward:
+he made a desperate effort to regain his balance, failed, and was
+whirled out head foremost on to the side of the road.
+
+Fortunately for himself he fell soft. The road ran here through a
+little wood of young oak and beech which came right down to the edge of
+the _chaussée_. The ground was deep in withered leaves which, with the
+rain and the water draining from the road’s high camber, were soft and
+soggy. Robin went full length into this muss with a thud that shook
+every bone in his body. His left leg, catching in a bare gorse-bush,
+acted as a brake and stopped him from rolling farther. He sat up, his
+mouth full of mud and his hair full of wet leaves, and felt himself
+carefully over. He contemplated rather ruefully a long rent in the left
+leg of his trousers just across the knee.
+
+“Jeekes!” he murmured; “he pushed me out! The dirty dog!”
+
+Then he remembered that, with the men in the car gone, he had lost
+trace again of Mary Trevert. His forcible ejection from the car was
+evidence enough of their determination to deal with Mary without
+interference from outside. It looked ominous. Robin sprang to his feet
+and rushed to the middle of the road.
+
+The _chaussée_ was absolutely empty. About a hundred yards from where
+he stood in the direction in which the car had been travelling the road
+made a sharp bend to the right, thus curtailing his view. Robin did not
+hesitate. Not waiting to retrieve his hat or even to wipe the mud from
+his face, he started off at a brisk run along the road in the direction
+in which the car had disappeared. He had not gone far before he found
+that his heavy overcoat was seriously impeding him. He stripped it off
+and, folding it, hid it beneath a bush just inside the plantation. Then
+he ran on again.
+
+Fresh disappointment awaited him when he rounded the bend in the road.
+A few hundred yards on the road turned again. There was no sign of the
+car. A cart piled high with manure was approaching, the driver, wearing
+wooden shoes and cracking at intervals a huge whip, trudging at the
+side.
+
+Robin stopped him.
+
+“Motor-car? Automobile?” he asked pointing in the direction from which
+the cart had come. The driver stared at him with a look of owlish
+stupidity.
+
+“Automobile?” repeated Robin. “Tuff-Tuff?”
+
+Very slowly a grin suffused the carter’s grimy face. He showed a row of
+broken black teeth. A tiny stream of saliva escaped from the corner of
+his mouth and trickled over the reddish stubble on his chin. Then he
+continued his way, turning his head every now and then to display his
+idiot’s grin.
+
+“Damnation!” exclaimed Robin, starting to run again. “Not a soul to ask
+in this accursed desert except the village idiot! Oh! that Jeekes! I’ll
+wring his blinking neck when I get hold of him!”
+
+He was furious with himself for the abject way in which he had been
+fooled. The man Victor had given Jeekes his orders in Dutch and had
+purposely picked a soft spot on the roadside and slowed down the car in
+order that the unwelcome intruder might be ejected as safely as
+possible. And to think that Robin had blandly allowed Jeekes to open
+the door and throw him out on the road!
+
+He was round the second bend now. The sun was shining with a quite
+respectable warmth and the steamy air made him desperately hot. The
+perspiration rolled off his face. But he never slackened his gait.
+Robin knew these Continental roads and their habit of running straight.
+He reckoned confidently on presently coming upon a long stretch where
+he might discern the car.
+
+He was not deceived. After the second bend the _chaussée_, just as he
+anticipated, straightened out and ran clear away between an
+ever-narrowing double line of poplars to become a bluish blob on the
+horizon. But of the car nothing was to be seen.
+
+For the second time Robin pulled up. He took serious counsel with
+himself. He estimated that he could see for about three miles along the
+road. Less than three minutes had elapsed since his misadventure, and
+therefore he was confident that the car should yet be in sight, unless
+it had left the road, for it could not have warmed up to a speed
+exceeding sixty miles an hour in the time. There was no sign of the car
+on the road, consequently it must have left it. Robin had passed no
+side roads between the scene of the accident and the second bend;
+therefore, he argued, he had the car before him still. He would go on.
+
+When he started off for the third time, it was at a brisk walking pace.
+As he went he kept a sharp lookout to right and left of the road for
+any trace of the car. It never occurred to him that to follow on foot a
+swift car bound for an unknown destination was the maddest kind of
+wild-goose chase. He was profoundly uneasy about Mary, but at the same
+time immeasurably angered by the trick played upon him—angered not so
+much against Jeekes as against the sallow-faced man whom he recognized
+as its inceptor. He had no thought for anything else.
+
+The flat Dutch landscape stretched away on either side of the road. A
+windmill or two, the inevitable irrigation canals with their little
+sluices, and an occasional tree alone broke the monotony of the scene.
+But away to the right Robin noticed a clump of trees which, he
+surmised, might conceivably enclose a house.
+
+As he walked, he scrutinized the roadway for any track of a car. But on
+the hard brick _pavé_ wheels left no mark. The first side road he came
+to was likewise paved in brick. In grave perplexity Robin came to a
+halt.
+
+Then his eye fell upon a puddle. It lay on the edge of the footpath
+bordering the _chaussée_ about five yards beyond the turning. The soft
+mud which skirted it showed the punched-out pattern of a studded tyre!
+The car had not taken this side road, at any rate. It had probably
+pulled over on to the footpath to pass the manure cart which Robin had
+met. He pushed on again valiantly.
+
+Another hundred yards brought him to a second side road. There was no
+_pavé_ here, but a soft sandy surface. And it bore, clearly imprinted
+in the mud, the fresh tracks of a car as it had turned off the road.
+
+Breaking into a run Robin followed the track down the turning. It led
+him to a black gate beyond which was a twisting gravel drive fringed
+with high laurels. And the gravel showed the same tyre marks as the
+road.
+
+He vaulted the gate lightly and ran up the drive. He was revolving in
+his head what his next move should be. Should he walk boldly into the
+house and confront Jeekes and his rascally looking companion or should
+he first spy out the ground and try to ascertain whether Mary had
+arrived? He decided on the latter course.
+
+Accordingly, when an unexpected turn of the drive brought him in view
+of a white porch, he left the avenue and took cover behind the laurel
+bushes. Walking softly on the wet grass and keeping well down behind
+the laurels, he went forward parallel with the drive. It ran into a
+clean courtyard with a coachhouse or garage on one side and a small
+green door, seemingly a side entrance into the house, on the other.
+
+There was no one in the courtyard and the house seemed perfectly quiet.
+From his post of observation behind the laurels, Robin observed that a
+tall window beside the green door commanded the view across the
+courtyard. He therefore retraced his steps by the way he had come. When
+he was past the corner of the house, he returned to the drive and
+keeping close to the bushes walked quietly into the courtyard. There,
+hugging the wall, he crept round past the closed doors of the garage
+until he found himself beside the tall window adjoining the green door.
+
+The window was open a few inches at the top. From within the sound of
+voices reached him. Jeekes was speaking. Robin recognized his rather
+grating voice at once.
+
+“... no more violence,” he was saying; “first Greve and now the girl. I
+don’t like your methods, Victor ...”
+
+Very cautiously Robin dropped on one knee and shuffled forward in this
+position until his eyes were on a level with the window-sill. He found
+himself looking into a narrow room, well lighted by a second window at
+the farther end. It was apparently an office, for there was a high desk
+running down the centre and a large safe occupied a prominent place
+against the wall.
+
+Jeekes and the man Victor stood chatting at the desk. The yellow-faced
+man was grinning sardonically.
+
+“Parrish don’t like your methods, I’ll be bound,” he retorted. “Don’t
+you worry about the little lady, Jeekes! Bless your heart, I won’t hurt
+her unless ...”
+
+The loud throbbing of a car at the front of the house made Robin duck
+his head hastily. The car, he guessed, might be round at the garage any
+moment and it would not do for him to be discovered. He got clear of
+the window, rose to his feet, and tiptoed round the house by the way he
+had come. Then he crossed the drive and regained the shelter of the
+laurels. Crawling along until he came level with the porch, he peeped
+through.
+
+Mary Trevert was just entering the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+THE METAMORPHOSIS OF MR. SCHULZ
+
+
+As the girl collapsed, the yellow-faced man, with an adroit movement,
+whisked the handkerchief off her face and crammed it into his pocket.
+Then, while he supported her with one arm, with the other he thrust at
+the door to close it. Without paying further attention to it, he turned
+and, bending down, lifted the girl without an effort off her feet and
+carried her across the room to the Chesterfield, upon which he laid her
+at full length. Then he seized her muff, which dangled from her neck by
+a thin platinum chain.
+
+Suddenly he heard the door behind him creak. In a flash he remembered
+that he had not heard the click of the lock as he had thrust the door
+to. He was springing erect when a firm hand gripped him by the back of
+the collar and pulled him away from the couch. He staggered back,
+striving to regain his balance, but then a savage shove flung him head
+foremost into the fireplace. He fell with a crash among the fire-irons.
+But he was on his feet again in an instant.
+
+He saw a tall, athletic-looking young man standing at the couch. He had
+a remarkably square jaw; his eyes were shining and he breathed heavily.
+He wore a blue serge suit which was heavily besmeared with white
+plaster and the trousers were rent across one knee. Straight at his
+throat sprang the yellow-faced man.
+
+Something struck him halfway. The young man had waited composedly for
+his coming, but as his assailant advanced, had shot out his left hand.
+There was a sharp crack and the yellow-faced man, reeling, dropped face
+downwards on the carpet without a sound. In his fall his foot caught a
+small table on which a vase of chrysanthemums stood, and the whole
+thing went over with a loud crash. He made a spasmodic effort to rise,
+hoisted himself on to his knees, swayed again, and then collapsed full
+length on the floor, where he lay motionless.
+
+The sound of the fall seemed to awaken the girl. She stirred uneasily
+once or twice.
+
+“What ... what is it?” she muttered, and was still again.
+
+Bending down, the young man gathered her up in his arms and bore her
+out through the door with the blue curtain, through a plainly furnished
+sort of office with high desks and stools, and out by a side door into
+a paved yard. There an open car was standing. The fresh air seemed to
+revive the girl further. As the young man laid her on the seat, she
+struggled up into a sitting position and passed her hand across her
+forehead.
+
+“What is the matter with me?” she said in a dazed voice; “I feel so
+ill!”
+
+Then, catching sight of the young man as he peered into her face, she
+exclaimed:
+
+“Robin!”
+
+“Thank God, you’re all right, Mary,” said Robin. “We’ve not got a
+moment to lose. We must get away from here quick!”
+
+He was at the bonnet cranking up the car. But the engine, chilled by
+the cold air, refused to start. As he was straining at the handle, a
+man dashed suddenly into the yard by the office door.
+
+It was Jeekes. The little secretary was a changed man. He still wore
+his _pince-nez_. But his mild air had utterly forsaken him. His face
+was livid, the eyes bulged horribly from his head, and his whole body
+was trembling with emotion. In his hand he held an automatic pistol. He
+came so fast that he was at the car and had covered Robin with his
+weapon before the other had seen him come.
+
+Mr. Jeekes left Robin no time to act. He called out in a voice that
+rang like a pistol shot:
+
+“Hands up, Mr. Smartie! Quick, d’you hear? Put ’em up, damn you!”
+
+Slowly, defiantly the young man raised his arms above his head.
+
+Mr. Jeekes stood close to the driver’s seat, having prudently put the
+car between himself and Robin. As he stood there, his automatic
+levelled at the young man, a remarkable thing happened. A black, soft
+surface suddenly fell over his face and was pulled back with a brisk
+tug. Mary Trevert, standing up in the back seat of the car, had flung
+her fur over the secretary’s head from behind and caught him in a
+noose. Before Mr. Jeekes could disentangle himself, Robin was at his
+throat and had borne him to the ground. The pistol was knocked
+skilfully from his hand and fell clattering on the flags. Robin pounced
+down on it. Then for the first time he smiled, a sunny smile that lit
+up his blue eyes.
+
+“Bravo, Mary!” he said. “That _was_ an idea! Now, then, Jeekes,” he
+ordered, “crank up that car. And be quick about it! We want to be off!”
+
+The little secretary was a lamentable sight. He was bleeding from a cut
+on the forehead, his clothes were covered with dust, and his glasses
+had been broken in his fall. Peering helplessly about him, he walked to
+the bonnet of the car and sullenly grasped the handle. The smile had
+left Robin’s face, and Mary noticed that he looked several times
+anxiously at the office door.
+
+And then suddenly the engine bit. Handing the pistol to the girl, Robin
+warned her to keep the secretary covered and, leaping into the
+driving-seat, turned the car into the avenue which curved round the
+house.
+
+Mr. Jeekes made no further show of fight. He remained standing in the
+centre of the courtyard, a ludicrous, rather pathetic, figure. As the
+tyres of the car gritted on the gravel of the drive, the office door
+was flung open and the yellow-faced man ran out, brandishing a big
+revolver.
+
+“Stop!” he shouted and levelled his weapon. The car seemed to leap
+forward and took the sharp turn on two wheels just as the man fired.
+The bullet struck the wall of the house and sent up a shower of
+plaster. Before he could fire again the car was round the house and out
+of sight. But as the car whizzed round the turn an instant before the
+yellow-faced man fired, the girl heard a sharp cry from Jeekes:
+
+“Don’t, Victor ...!”
+
+The rest of the sentence was lost in the roar of the engine as the car
+raced away down the drive.
+
+They left the avenue in a splutter of wet gravel. The gate still stood
+open. They wheeled furiously into the side road and regained the
+_chaussée_. As yet there was no sign of pursuit. The car rocked
+dangerously over the broken _pavé_, so Robin, after a glance behind,
+steadied her down to an easier pace. Mary, who looked very pale and
+ill, was lying back on the back seat with her eyes closed.
+
+They ran easily into Rotterdam as, with a terrific jangle of tunes
+played jerkily on the chimes, the clocks were striking two. Robin
+slowed down as they approached the centre of the city.
+
+“Where are you staying, Mary?” he asked.
+
+He had to repeat the question several times before she gave him the
+address. Then he found himself in a quandary. He was in a strange town
+and did not know a word of the language so as to be able to ask the
+way. However, he solved the difficulty without great trouble. He
+beckoned to a newspaper boy on the square outside the Bourse and,
+holding up a two-gulden piece, indicated by signs that he desired him
+as a guide. The boy comprehended readily enough and, springing on the
+footboard of the car, brought them safely to the hotel.
+
+Robin left Mary and the car in charge of the boy and went to the office
+and asked to see the manager. He had decided upon the story he must
+tell.
+
+“Miss Trevert,” he said, when the manager, a blond and suave Swiss, had
+presented himself, “has been to the dentist and has been rather upset
+by the gas. Would you get one of the maids to help her up to her room
+and in the meantime telephone for a doctor. If there is an English
+doctor in Rotterdam, I should prefer to have him!”
+
+The manager clicked in sympathy. He despatched a lady typist and a
+chambermaid to help Mary out of the car.
+
+“For a doctor,” he said, “it ees fortunate. We ’ave an English doctor
+staying in ze hotel now—a sheep’s doctor. He is in ze lounge. Eef you
+come, _hein?_”
+
+The “sheep’s doctor” proved to be a doctor off one of the big liners, a
+clean-shaven, red-faced, hearty sort of person who readily volunteered
+his services. As Robin was about to follow him into the lift, the
+manager stopped him.
+
+“Zere was a shentleman call to see Mees Trevert,” he said, “two or
+three time ’e been ’ere ... a Sherman shentleman. ’E leave ’er a note
+... will you take it?”
+
+Greatly puzzled, Robin Greve balanced in his hands the letter which the
+manager produced from a pigeon-hole. Then he tore open the envelope.
+
+DEAR MISS TREVERT [he read], I was extremely sorry to miss you this
+morning. Directly I received your message I called at your hotel, but,
+though I have been back twice, I have not found you in. Circumstances
+have arisen which make it imperative that I should see you as soon as
+possible. This is _most urgent_. I will come back at four o’clock, as I
+cannot get away before. Do not leave the hotel _on any pretext_ until
+you have seen me and Dulkinghorn’s letter as identification. You are in
+_grave danger_.
+
+
+The note was signed “W. Schulz.”
+
+“H’m,” was Robin’s comment; “he writes like an Englishman, anyway.”
+
+He ascertained the number of Mary Trevert’s room and went up to her
+floor in the lift. He waited in the corridor outside the room for the
+doctor to emerge, and lit a cigarette to while away the time. It was
+not until he had nearly finished his second cigarette that the doctor
+appeared.
+
+The doctor hesitated on seeing Robin. Then he stepped close up to him.
+Robin noticed that his red face was more flushed than usual and his
+eyes were troubled.
+
+“What’s this cock-and-bull story about gas you’ve put up to the
+manager?” he said bluntly in a low voice. “The girl’s been doped with
+chloroform, as well you know. You’ll be good enough to come downstairs
+to the manager with me ...”
+
+Robin took out his note-case and produced a card.
+
+“That’s my name,” he said. “You’ll see that I’m a barrister ...”
+
+“Well?” said the doctor in a non-committal voice after he had read the
+card.
+
+“I’m not surprised to hear you say that Miss Trevert has been doped,”
+Robin remarked. “I found her here in a house on the outskirts of
+Rotterdam in the hands of two men, one of whom is believed to be
+implicated in a mysterious case of suspected murder in England. Through
+the part he played this morning, he has probably run his head into the
+noose. But he’ll have it out again if we delay an instant. I told the
+manager that yarn about the dentist to avoid enquiries and waste of
+time. I have here a note from some man I don’t know, addressed to Miss
+Trevert, warning her of a grave danger threatening her. It corroborates
+to some extent what I have told you. Here ... read it for yourself!”
+
+He handed the doctor the note signed “W. Schulz.”
+
+The doctor read it through carefully.
+
+“What I would propose to you,” said Robin, “is that we two should go
+off at once to this Herr Schulz and find out exactly what he knows.
+Then we can decide what action there is to be taken ...”
+
+He paused for the doctor’s reply. The latter searched Robin’s face with
+a glance.
+
+“I’m your man,” he said shortly. “And, by the way, my name’s
+Collingwood ... Robert Collingwood.”
+
+“There’s a car downstairs,” said Robin, “and a guide to show us the
+way. Shall we go?”
+
+Five minutes later, under the newsboy’s expert guidance, the car drew
+up in front of the small clean house with the neat green door bearing
+the name of “Schulz.” Leaving the boy to mind the car, they rang the
+bell. The door was opened by the fat woman in the pink print dress.
+
+Robin gave the woman his card. On it he had written “About Miss
+Trevert.” Speaking in German the woman bade them rather roughly to bide
+where they were, and departed after closing the front door in their
+faces. She did not keep them waiting long, however, for in about a
+minute she returned. Herr Schulz would receive the gentlemen, she said.
+
+Within, the house was spotlessly clean with that characteristic German
+house odour which always seems to be a compound of cleaning material
+and hot grease. Up a narrow staircase, furnished in plain oil-cloth
+with brass stair-rods, they went to a landing on the first floor. Here
+the woman motioned them back and, bending her head in a listening
+attitude, knocked.
+
+“_Herein_!” cried a guttural German voice.
+
+The room into which they entered would have been entitled to a place in
+any museum for showing the mode of life of the twentieth-century
+Germans. With its stuffy red rep curtains, its big green majolica
+stove, its heavy mahogany furniture, its oleographs of Bismarck, Roon,
+and Moltke, it might have been lifted bodily from a bourgeois house in
+the Fatherland.
+
+A man was sitting at a mahogany roll-top desk as they entered. The air
+in the room was thick with the fumes of the cheap Dutch cigar he was
+smoking. He was a sturdily built fellow with blond hair shaven so close
+to the skull that at a distance he seemed to be bald.
+
+At the sound of their entrance, he rose and faced them. When he stood
+erect the sturdiness of his build became accentuated, and they saw he
+was a man of medium height, but so muscular that he looked much
+shorter. A pair of large tortoise-shell spectacles straddled a big
+beak-like nose, and he wore a heavyish blond moustache with its points
+trained upwards and outwards rather after the fashion made famous in
+the Fatherland by William Hohenzollern. In his ill-cut suit of
+cheap-looking blue serge, which he wore with a pea-green tie, Robin
+thought he looked altogether a typical specimen of the German of the
+non-commissioned officer class.
+
+“You ask for me?” he said in deep guttural accents, looking at Robin;
+“I am Herr Schulz!”
+
+The German’s manner was cold and formal and Robin felt a little dashed.
+
+“My name is Greve,” he began rather hurriedly. “I understand you
+received a visit to-day from a young English lady, a Miss Trevert ...”
+
+The German let his eyes travel slowly from Robin to the doctor and back
+again. He did not offer them a chair and all three remained standing.
+
+“Ye-es, and what if I did?”
+
+Robin felt his temper rising.
+
+“You wrote a note to Miss Trevert at her hotel warning her that she was
+in danger. I want to know why you warned her. What led you to suppose
+that she was threatened?”
+
+Herr Schulz made a little gesture of the hand.
+
+“Wass I not right to warn her?”
+
+“Indeed, you were,” Robin asserted with conviction. “She was spirited
+away and drugged.”
+
+The German started. A frowning pucker appeared just above the bridge of
+his big spectacles and he raised his head quickly.
+
+“Drugged?” he said.
+
+“Certainly,” said Robin. “This gentleman with me is a doctor ... Dr.
+Robert Collingwood, of the Red Lion Line. He has examined Miss Trevert
+and can corroborate my statement.”
+
+“By Gad!” exclaimed Herr Schulz—and this time his English was faultless
+and fluent—“Shut that door behind you, Mr. Greve, and shoot the
+bolt—that’s it just below the knob! Sit down, sit down, and while I mix
+you a drink, you shall tell me about this!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+THE READING OF THE RIDDLE
+
+
+In uttering those words Herr Schulz seemed suddenly to become
+loose-limbed and easy. His plethoric rigidity of manner vanished, and,
+though he spoke with a brisk air of authority, there was a jovial ring
+in his voice which instantly inspired confidence. With the change the
+illusion supported by his appalling clothes was broken and he looked
+like a man dressed up for charades.
+
+“Are you—English?” asked Robin in astonishment.
+
+“Only in this room,” was the dry reply, “and don’t you or our friend,
+the doctor, here forget it. You’ll both take whisky? Three fingers will
+do you good, Mr. Greve, for I see you’ve had a roughish time this
+morning. Say when!”
+
+He spurted a siphon into three glasses.
+
+“Before we go any farther,” he went on, “perhaps I had better identify
+myself—to save any further misunderstandings, don’t you know? Do either
+of you gentlemen happen to know a party called Dulkinghorn? You may
+have heard of him, Mr. Greve, for I can see you have been in the army
+...”
+
+“Not Ernest Dulkinghorn, of the War Office?” asked Robin.
+
+“The identical party!”
+
+“I never met him,” said Robin. “But I was at the War Office for a bit
+before I was demobilized and I heard fellows speak of him.
+Counter-espionage, isn’t he?”
+
+“That’s right,” nodded Herr Schulz. “You can read his letter to me
+introducing Miss Trevert.”
+
+He handed a sheet of paper to Robin.
+
+DEAR SCHULZ [it ran], Victor Marbran’s push appear to be connected with
+Hartley Parrish, who has just met his death under suspicious
+circumstances. You will have read about it in the English papers. Miss
+Trevert was engaged to H.P. and has a letter from Elias van der Spyck
+and Company which she found on Parrish’s desk after his death. I should
+say that the Marbran-Parrish connection would repay investigation.
+
+
+Yours
+E. DULKINGHORN
+
+
+P.S. The letter is, of course, in conventional code.
+
+
+P.P.S. Don’t frighten the life out of the Trevert girl, you
+unsympathetic brute!
+
+
+Robin read the letter through to the end.
+
+“Then Mary Trevert has this letter from Rotterdam which we have been
+hunting for!” he cried. “Have you seen it?”
+
+Herr Schulz shook his head.
+
+“Miss Trevert called here this morning,” he said, “when I was out. She
+gave her letter to Frau Wirth, my housekeeper, with her card and
+address. Frau Wirth was cleaning the plate on the front door and, a
+moment after Miss Trevert had gone, a fellow appeared and said he was a
+friend of Miss Trevert who had made a mistake and left the wrong
+letter. My housekeeper is well trained and wouldn’t give the letter up.
+But she made the fatal mistake of telling the fellow exactly what he
+wanted to know, and that was who the letter was addressed to. ‘The
+letter is addressed to Herr Schulz,’ said this excellent woman, ‘and if
+there’s any mistake he will find it out when he opens it.’ And with
+that she told him to clear out. Which, having got all he wanted, he was
+glad enough to do!”
+
+“What was this chap like?” asked Robin.
+
+The big man shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“I can teach my servants discretion,” he replied whimsically, “but I
+can’t teach ’em to use their eyes. Frau Wirth could remember nothing
+about this fellow except that he wasn’t tall and wore a brown overcoat
+...”
+
+“Jeekes!” cried Robin, slapping his thigh. “He must have been actually
+coming away from your place when I met him ...”
+
+“And who,” asked the big man, reflectively contemplating the amber
+fluid in his glass, “who is Jeekes?”
+
+In reply Robin told him the story of Hartley Parrish’s death, his
+growing certainty that the millionaire had been murdered, the
+mysterious letters on slatey-blue paper, and Jeekes’s endeavor to burke
+the investigations by throwing on Robin the suspicion of having driven
+Parrish to suicide by threats. He told of his chance meeting with
+Jeekes in Rotterdam that morning, his adventure at the Villa Bergendal,
+his finding and rescue of Mary Trevert, and their escape.
+
+Herr Schulz listened attentively and without interruption until Robin
+had reached the end of his story.
+
+“There’s one thing you haven’t explained,” he said, “and that’s how
+Miss Trevert came to walk into the hands of these precious ruffians
+...”
+
+“There, perhaps, I can help you,” said the doctor from behind one of
+Herr Schulz’s rank cigars; “I have it from Miss Trevert herself. Some
+one impersonating you Mr.—er, ahem,—Schulz—telephoned her this morning,
+after she had left her letter of introduction here, asking her to come
+out to lunch at your country-house. She suspected nothing and went off
+in the car they sent for her ...”
+
+“By George!” said the big man thoughtfully; “I suspected some game of
+this kind when I heard of the attempt to get at that letter of
+introduction. If I only could have got hold of Marbran this morning
+...”
+
+“Marbran!” said Robin thoughtfully. “When I read Dulkinghorn’s letter
+just now I thought I had heard that name before. Of course—Victor
+Marbran! That was it! I remember now! He knew Hartley Parrish in the
+old days. Parrish once said that Marbran would do him an injury if he
+could. Who is Marbran, sir?”
+
+All unconsciously he paid the tribute of ‘sir’ to Herr Schulz’s
+undoubted habit of command.
+
+“Victor Marbran,” replied the big man, “is Elias van der Spyck & Co., a
+firm which made millions in the war by trading with the enemy. In every
+neutral country there were, of course, firms which specialized in
+importing contraband for the use of the Germans, but van der Spyck &
+Co. brought the evasion of the blockade to a fine art. They covered up
+their tracks, however, with such consummate art that we could never
+bring anything home to them. In fact, it was only after the armistice
+that we began to learn something of the immense scope of their
+operations. There was a master brain behind them. But it was never
+discovered. It strikes me, however, that we are on the right track at
+last ...”
+
+“By Jove ...!” exclaimed Robin impressively. “Hartley Parrish!...”
+
+The big man raised a hand.
+
+“_Attentions!_” he interposed suavely. “The chain is not yet complete.
+I wonder what this van der Spyck letter of Miss Trevert’s contained
+that made Victor Marbran and the secretary chap so desperately anxious
+to get hold of it. For you understand, don’t you?” he said briskly,
+turning to Robin, “that they were after that and that alone. And they
+risked penal servitude in this country to get it ...”
+
+Robin nodded.
+
+“To save their necks in another,” he said.
+
+“I have the letter here,” mildly remarked the doctor from his corner of
+the room. “Miss Trevert gave it to me!”
+
+He produced a white envelope and drew from it a folded square of
+slatey-blue paper. In great excitement Robin sprang forward.
+
+“You’re a downy bird, Doctor, I must say,” he remarked, “fancy keeping
+it up your sleeve all this time!”
+
+He eagerly took the letter, spread it out on the table, and read it
+through whilst Herr Schulz looked over his shoulder.
+
+“Code, eh?” commented the big man, shaking his head humorously. “If it
+beats Dulkinghorn, it beats me!”
+
+From his note-case Robin now drew a folded square of paper identical in
+colour with the letter spread out before them.
+
+“I found this on the carpet beside Parrish’s body,” he said. “Look,
+it’s exactly the same paper ...”
+
+Behind the tortoise-shell spectacles the big man’s eyes narrowed down
+to pin-points as he caught sight of the sheet which Robin unfolded and
+its series of slits.
+
+“Aha!” he cried—and his voice rang out clear through the room—“the
+grill, eh? Well, well, to think of that!”
+
+He took the slotted sheet of paper from Robin’s hands and laid it over
+the letter so that it exactly covered it, edge to edge and corner to
+corner. In this way the greater part of the typewriting in the letter
+was covered over, and only the words appearing in the slots could be
+read. And thus it was that Robin Greve, Herr Schulz, and Dr.
+Collingwood, leaning shoulder to shoulder, read the message that came
+to Hartley Parrish in the library at Harkings....
+
+ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+
+
+GENERAL IMPORTERS
+
+
+ROTTERDAM Rotterdam 25th Nov.
+
+
+_Codes_
+A.B.C.
+Liebler’s
+
+
+_Personal_
+
+
+Dear Mr. Parrish,
+
+
+Your favour of even date to hand and contents noted. _The last_
+delivery of steel was to time but we have had _warning_ from the
+railway authorities that labour troubles at the docks are likely to
+delay future consignments. _If you don’t_ mind we should prefer to
+_settle_ the question of future delivery _by Nov. 27_ as we have a
+board meeting on the 30th inst. While we fully appreciate your own
+difficulties with labour at home, _you_ will understand that this is a
+question which we cannot afford to adjourn _sine_ _die._
+
+
+Yours faithfully,
+pro ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+
+
+“‘The last ... warning,’” Robin read out, “‘if you don’t ... settle ...
+by Nov. 27 ... you ... die ...!’”
+
+He looked up. “Last Saturday,” he said, “was the 27th, the day that
+Parrish died ...”
+
+“The grill,” remarked the big man authoritatively, “is one of the
+oldest dodges known to the Secret Service. It renders a conventional
+code absolutely undecipherable as long as it is skilfully worded, as it
+is in this case. You send your conventional code by one route, your key
+by another. I make no doubt that this was the way in which van der
+Spyck & Co. transacted their business with Hartley Parrish. They simply
+posted their conventional code letters through the post in the ordinary
+way, confident that there was nothing in them to catch the eye of the
+Censor’s Department. The key might be sent in half a dozen different
+ways, by hand, concealed in a newspaper, in a parcel ...”
+
+“So this,” said Robin, pointing at the letter, “was what caused Hartley
+Parrish to make his will. It would lead one to suppose that it was what
+induced him to commit suicide were not the presumption so strong that
+he was murdered. But who killed him? Was it Jeekes or Marbran?”
+
+Herr Schulz pitched his cigar-stump into an ash-tray.
+
+“That,” he said, “is the question which I am going to ask you gentlemen
+to help me answer. You will realize that legally we have not a leg to
+stand on. We are in a foreign country where, without first getting a
+warrant from London, we can take no steps whatever to run these fellows
+in. To get the Dutch police to move against these gentry in the matter
+of the assault upon Miss Trevert would waste valuable time. And we have
+to move quickly—before these two lads can get away. I therefore propose
+that we start this instant for the Villa Bergendal and try, if we are
+not too late, to force Marbran or Jeekes or both of them to a
+confession. That done, we can hold them if possible until we can get
+the Dutch police to apprehend them at the instance of Miss Trevert.
+Then we can communicate with the English police. It’s all quite
+illegal, of course! You have a car, I think, Mr. Greve! You will come
+with us, Dr. Collingwood? Good! Then let us start at once!”
+
+Robin intervened with a proposal that they should call _en route_ at
+his hotel to see if there were any telegrams for him.
+
+“Manderton knows I am in Rotterdam,” he explained, “and he promised to
+wire me the latest developments in the enquiry he is conducting.”
+
+“Miss Trevert should be fully recovered by this,” put in the doctor;
+“apart from a little sickness she is really none the worse for her
+disagreeable experience. If there was anything you wanted to ask her
+...”
+
+“There is,” said Robin promptly. “Her reply to one question,” he
+explained, turning to Herr Schulz, “will give us the certainty that
+Parrish was murdered and did not commit suicide. It will not delay us
+more than five minutes to stop at her hotel in passing, We will then
+call in at my place. We should be at the Villa within half an hour from
+now ...”
+
+“Gentlemen,” said Herr Schulz as they prepared to go, “I know my Mr.
+Victor Marbran. You should all be armed.”
+
+Robin produced the pistol he had taken from Jeekes. Herr Schulz slipped
+a Browning pistol into the breast-pocket of his jacket and, producing a
+long-barrelled service revolver, gave it to the doctor.
+
+“There are three of them, I gather, counting the chauffeur,” commented
+the big man, pulling on his overcoat, “so we shall be equally matched.”
+
+Darkness had fallen upon Rotterdam and the lights from the houses made
+yellow streaks in the water of the canal as the car, piloted by Robin,
+drove the party to Mary Trevert’s hotel.
+
+They found the girl, pale and anxious, in the lounge.
+
+“Well, now,” cried the doctor breezily, “and how are you feeling? Did
+you take my advice and have some tea?”
+
+“What has happened?” asked the girl; “I have been so anxious about you
+...”
+
+Her words were addressed to the doctor, but she looked at Robin.
+
+“Mary,” said Robin, “we are very near the truth now. But there is one
+thing you can tell us. It is very important. When you heard the shot in
+the library at Harkings, did you notice any other sound—before or
+after?”
+
+The girl paused to think.
+
+“There was a sort of sharp cry and a thud ...”
+
+“I know. But was there anything else? Do try and remember. It’s so
+important!”
+
+The girl was silent for a moment. Then she said slowly:
+
+“Yes, there was, now I come to think of it. Just as I tried the door—it
+was locked, you know—there was a sort of hiss, harsh and rather loud,
+from the room ...”
+
+“A sort of hiss, eh? Something like a sneeze?”
+
+“Yes. Only louder and ... and ... harsher!”
+
+“Now, answer me carefully! Was this before or after the shot?”
+
+“Oh, before! Just as I was rattling the doorhandle. The shot broke in
+upon it....”
+
+Robin turned to Herr Schulz, who stood with a grave face by his side.
+
+“The silencer, you see, sir!” he said. Then to Mary he added: “Mary, we
+are going off now. But we will be back within the hour and....”
+
+“Oh, Robin,” the girl broke in, “don’t leave me alone! I don’t feel
+safe in this place after this morning. I’d much rather come with
+you....”
+
+“Mary, it’s quite impossible....” Robin began.
+
+But the girl had turned to a table and taken from it her hat and fur.
+
+“I don’t care!” she exclaimed wilfully; “I’m coming anyhow. I refuse to
+be left behind!”
+
+She smiled at Herr Schulz as she spoke, and that gentleman’s rather
+grim face relaxed as he looked at her.
+
+“I’m not sure I wouldn’t say the same!” he remarked.
+
+The upshot of it was that, despite Robin’s objections, Mary Trevert
+accompanied the party. She sat on the back seat, rather flushed and
+excited, between Herr Schulz and the doctor, while Robin took the wheel
+again. A few minutes’ drive took them to the big hotel where Robin had
+booked a room. They all waited in the car whilst he went to the office.
+
+He was back in a minute, an open telegram in his hand.
+
+“I believe I’ve got in my pocket,” he cried, “the actual weapon with
+which Hartley Parrish was killed!”
+
+And he read from the telegram:
+
+“Mastertons gunsmiths sold last July pair of Browning automatics
+identical with that found on Parrish to Jeekes who paid with Parrish’s
+cheque.”
+
+The message was signed “Manderton.”
+
+At that moment a man wearing a black bowler hat and a heavy frieze
+overcoat came hurrying out of the hotel.
+
+“Mr. Greve!” he cried as Robin, who was back in the driving-seat, was
+releasing the brake. “Did you have the wire from the Yard saying I was
+coming?” he asked. “Probably I beat the telegraph, though. I came by
+air!”
+
+Then he tipped his hat respectfully at Herr Schulz.
+
+“This is Detective-Inspector Manderton, of Scotland Yard, sir,” said
+Robin.
+
+The big man beamed a smile of friendly recognition.
+
+“Mr. Manderton and I are old friends,” he said. “How are you,
+Manderton? I didn’t expect you to recognize me in these duds ...”
+
+“I’d know you anywhere, sir,” said the detective with unwonted
+cordiality.
+
+“Have you got your warrant, Manderton?” asked Herr Schulz.
+
+“Aye, I have, sir,” replied the detective. “And I’ve a colleague from
+the Dutch police who’s going along with me to effect the arrest ...”
+
+“Jeekes, eh?”
+
+“That’s the party, sir, charged with wilful murder.... This is
+Commissary Boomjes, of the Rotterdam Criminal Investigation
+Department!”
+
+A tall man with a short black beard had approached the car. It was
+decided that the whole party should proceed to the Villa Bergendal
+immediately. Manderton sat next to Robin and the Dutch police officer
+perched himself on the footboard.
+
+“And where did you pick _him_ up, I’d like to know?” whispered
+Manderton in Robin’s ear with a backward jerk of the head, as they
+glided through the brightly lit streets.
+
+“D’you mean the doctor?” asked Robin.
+
+“No, your other friend!”
+
+“Miss Trevert had a letter to him. Something in the Secret Service,
+isn’t he?”
+
+Mr. Manderton snorted.
+
+“‘Something in the Secret Service,’” he repeated disdainfully. “Well, I
+should say he was. If you want to know, Mr. Greve, he’s the head!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+THE FIGURE IN THE DOORWAY
+
+
+The rain was coming down in torrents and the night was black as pitch
+when, leaving the lights of Rotterdam behind, the car swung out on to
+the main road leading to the Villa Bergendal. Thanks to a powerful
+headlight, Robin was able to get a good turn of speed out of her as
+soon as they were clear of the city. As they slowed down at the gate in
+the side road Herr Schulz tapped him on the shoulder.
+
+“Better leave the car here and put the lights out,” he counselled. “And
+Miss Trevert should stay if the doctor here would remain to look after
+her ...”
+
+“You think there’ll be a scrap?” whispered the doctor.
+
+“With a man like Marbran,” returned the Chief, “you never know what may
+happen ...”
+
+“Zere will be no faight,” commented the Dutch police officer in
+lugubrious accents, “my vriends, ve are too laite ...”
+
+But the Chief insisted that Mary should stay behind and the doctor
+agreed to act as her escort. Then in single file the party proceeded up
+the drive, Robin in front, then the Dutchman, after him the Chief, and
+Mr. Manderton in the rear.
+
+They walked on the grass edging the avenue. On the wet turf their feet
+made no sound. When they came in view of the house, they saw it was in
+darkness. No light shone in any window, and the only sound to be heard
+was the melancholy patter of the rain drops on the laurel bushes. When
+they saw the porch looking black before them, they left the grass and
+stepped gently across the drive, the gravel crunching softly beneath
+their feet. Robin led the way boldly under the porch and laid a hand on
+the doorknob. The door opened easily and the next moment the four men
+were in the hall.
+
+As Robin moved to the wall to find the electric light switch, a torch
+was silently thrust into his hand.
+
+“Better have this, sir,” whispered Manderton. “I have my finger on the
+switch now, but we’d best wait to put the light up until we know where
+they are. Where do we go first?”
+
+“Into the sitting-room,” Robin returned.
+
+Switching the torch on and off only as he required it, he crept
+silently over the heavy carpet to the door of the room in which that
+morning he had come upon Mary. Manderton remained at the switch in the
+hall whilst the other two men followed Robin through the door.
+
+The room was in darkness. It struck chill; for the fire had gone out.
+The beam of the torch flitting from wall to wall showed the room to be
+empty.
+
+“I don’t believe there’s a soul in the house,” whispered the Chief to
+Robin.
+
+“Ve are too laite; I have said it!” muttered the Dutchman.
+
+“There is another room leading out of this,” replied Robin, turning the
+torch on to the blue curtain covering the door leading into the office.
+“We’ll have a look in there and then try upstairs. Manderton will give
+us warning if anybody comes down ...”
+
+So saying he drew the curtain aside and pushed open the door. Instantly
+a gush of cold air blew the curtain back in his face. Before he could
+disentangle himself the door slammed to with a crash that shook the
+house.
+
+“That’s done it!” muttered the Chief.
+
+The three men stood and listened. They heard the dripping of the rain,
+the soughing of the wind, but no sound of human kind came to their
+ears.
+
+“The place is empty,” whispered the Chief. “They’ve cleared ...”
+
+“It is too laite; I have said it.” The Dutchman spoke in a hoarse bass.
+
+“We’ll go in here, anyway,” answered Robin, lifting up the curtain
+again. “They may have heard us and be hiding ...”
+
+He opened the door, steadying it with his foot. The curtain flapped
+wildly round them as they crossed the threshold. The broad white beam
+of the electric torch swung from window to desk, from desk to safe.
+
+“The door over there is open,” exclaimed the Chief; “that’s the way
+they’ve gone.”
+
+Suddenly he clutched Robin’s arm.
+
+“Steady,” he whispered, “look there ... in the doorway ... there’s
+somebody moving ... quick, the torch!”
+
+The light flashed across the room, blazed for an instant on a
+window-pane, then picked out a man’s form swaying in the doorway. He
+had his back to the room and was rocking gently to and fro with the
+wind which they felt cold on their faces.
+
+“It’s only a coat and trousers hanging in the door ...” began Robin.
+
+Then, with a suddenness which pained the eyes, the room was flooded
+with light. The Dutch detective stepped from the electric light switch
+and moved to the open door.
+
+“Too laite!” he cried, shaking his head; “have I not tell you?”
+
+Suspended by a strip of coloured stuff, the body of Mr. Jeekes dangled
+from the cross-beam of the door. The corpse oscillated in the breeze,
+silhouetted against an oblong of black sky, turning this way and that,
+loose, unnatural, horrible, and, as the body, twisting gently, faced
+the room, it gave a glimpse of startling eyes, swollen, empurpled
+features, protruding tongue.
+
+Without the least trace of emotion the black-bearded detective picked
+up a rush-bottom chair and gathering up the corpse by its collar
+hoisted it up without an effort so that the feet rested on the chair.
+Then, producing a clasp-knife, he mounted the chair and, with a
+vigorous slash, cut the coloured strip which had been fastened to a
+staple projecting from the brickwork above the door on the outside of
+the house.
+
+He caught the body in his arms and laid it face upwards on the matting
+which covered the floor. He busied himself for an instant at the neck,
+then rose with a twisted strip of coloured material in his hand.
+
+“His braces,” he remarked, “very common. The stool what he has stood
+upon and knocked avay, she lies outsaide! My vriends, ve are too
+laite!”
+
+The doctor, fetched in haste by Manderton, examined the body. The man
+had been dead, he said, for several hours. Mary remained in the hall
+with Manderton while Robin and the Dutch detective went over the house.
+There was no trace either of Marbran or of the chauffeur. In the two
+bedrooms which showed signs of occupation the beds had been made up,
+but the ward-robes were empty.
+
+“Marbran’s made a bolt for it,” said Robin, coming into the office
+where he had left the Chief, “and taken everything with him ...”
+
+“I gathered as much,” answered that astute gentleman, pointing at the
+fireplace. A pile of charred paper filled the grate. “There’s nothing
+here, and I think we can wipe Mr. Victor Marbran off the slate. I doubt
+if we shall see him again. At any rate we can leave him to the tender
+mercies of our black-bearded friend here. As for us, I don’t really see
+that there is anything more to detain us here ...”
+
+“But,” remarked Robin, looking at the still figure on the floor, the
+face now mercifully covered by the doctor’s white handkerchief, “surely
+this is a confession of guilt. Has he left nothing behind in writing?
+No account of the crime?”
+
+“Not a thing,” responded the Chief, “and I’ve been through every
+drawer. Even the safe is open ... and empty!”
+
+“But how does it happen then,” asked Robin, “that Marbran has legged it
+while Jeekes here ...”
+
+“Marbran left him in the lurch,” the Chief broke in decisively. “I
+think that’s clear. While you were upstairs with our Dutch friend, I
+went through the dead man’s pockets. He had no money, Greve, except a
+few coppers and a little Dutch change. He had not even got a return
+ticket to London. Which makes me think that Master Jeekes had left old
+England for good.”
+
+“Another thing that puzzles me,” remarked Robin, “is how Jeekes knew
+that Miss Trevert had a letter to you, sir? Or, for a matter of that,
+how he knew that she had gone to Rotterdam at all?”
+
+“That’s not hard to answer,” said Mr. Manderton, who had just entered
+the room. “On Sunday night Jeekes rang up Harkings from his club and
+asked to speak to Miss Trevert. Bude told him she had gone away. Jeekes
+then asked to speak to Sir Horace Trevert, who told him that his sister
+had gone to Rotterdam. Jeekes takes the first available train in the
+morning, recognizes Miss Trevert on the way across, and tags her to her
+hotel in Rotterdam. The next morning he follows her again, shadows her
+to Sir ... to this gentleman’s rooms, and there, as we know, contrived
+by a trick to see to whom she had a letter.”
+
+“But why did he not attempt to get the letter away from her as soon as
+she arrived? Miss Trevert never suspected Jeekes. She might have shown
+him the letter if he’d asked her for it ...”
+
+The detective shook his head sagely.
+
+“Jeekes was pretty ’cute,” he said. “Before letting the girl know he
+was in Rotterdam, he wanted to find out what she wanted here and whom
+she knew. Remember, he had no means of knowing if the girl suspected
+him or not ...”
+
+“So he devised this trick of impersonating Mr. Schulz on the telephone,
+eh?”
+
+“Bah!” broke in the Chief; “I bet that was Marbran’s idea. Look at
+Jeekes’s face and tell me if you see in it any feature indicating the
+bold, ingenious will to try a bluff like that. I never knew this fellow
+here. But I know Marbran, a resolute, undaunted type. You can take it
+from me, Marbran directed—Jeekes merely carried out instructions. What
+do you say, Manderton?”
+
+But the detective had retired into his shell again.
+
+“If you will come to Harkings with me the day after to-morrow, sir, I
+shall hope to show you exactly how Mr. Parrish met his death ...”
+
+“No, no, Manderton,” responded the Chief; “I can’t leave here for a
+bit. There are bigger murderers than Jeekes at liberty in Holland
+to-day ...”
+
+The detective slapped his thigh.
+
+“I’d have laid a shade of odds,” he cried merrily, “that you were
+watching the gentleman at Amerongen, sir ...”
+
+“Tut, tut, Manderton,” said the Chief, raising his hand to silence the
+other; “you run on too fast, my friend! I wish,” he went on, changing
+the subject, “I could be with you at Harkings to-morrow to witness your
+reconstruction of the crime, Manderton. You’ll go, I suppose, Greve?”
+
+“I certainly shall,” answered the barrister, “I have had some
+experience of criminals, but I must say I never saw one less endowed
+with criminal characteristics than little Jeekes. A strange
+character!...”
+
+The Chief laughed sardonically.
+
+“Anyway,” he remarked, “he had a damn good notion of the end that
+befitted him ...”
+
+It was a still, starry night. The Flushing boat stood out of harbour on
+a calm sea. The high arc lamps threw a blue gleam over the deserted
+moles and glinted in the oily swell lapping the quays. From the
+fast-receding quayside the rasping of a winch echoed noisily across the
+silent water. On the upper deck of the mail-boat Robin Greve and Mary
+Trevert stood side by side at the rail. They had the deck to
+themselves. Above their heads on the bridge the captain stood immobile,
+a square black figure, the helmsman at his elbow. Otherwise, between
+the stars and the sea, the man and the girl were alone.
+
+Thus they had stood ever since the mail-boat had cast off from the
+quay. Robin had made some banal attempt at conversation, urging (but
+without much sincerity) that, after her experiences of the day, the
+girl should go to her cabin and rest. But Mary Trevert had merely
+shaken her head impatiently, without speaking.
+
+Presently he put his arm through hers. He felt against his wrist the
+warm softness of her travelling-coat, and it seemed to him that, though
+the girl made no sign, some slight answering pressure met his touch. So
+they leaned upon the rail for a space watching the water fall hissing
+from the vessel’s side as the steamer, jarring and quivering, met the
+long steady roll from the open sea.
+
+Then Mary Trevert spoke.
+
+“Robin,” she said gently, “I owe you an apology ...”
+
+Robin Greve looked at her quickly. But Mary had her eyes fixed seaward
+in contemplation of a distant light that flared and died with
+persistent regularity.
+
+“My dear,” he answered, “I’ve only myself to blame. When you told me
+you were going to marry Hartley Parrish, I should have known that you
+had your reasons and that those reasons were good. I should have held
+my tongue ...”
+
+This time the girl stole a glance at him. But now he was gazing away to
+the horizon where the light came and went.
+
+“All this misunderstanding between us,” he went on, “came about because
+of what I said in the billiard-room that afternoon ...”
+
+The girl shook her head resolutely.
+
+“No,” she answered, “it was my fault. I’m a proud devil, Robin, and
+what you said about Hartley and ... and ... other women, Robin, hurt
+and ... and made me angry. No, no, don’t apologize again. You and I are
+old enough friends, my dear, to tell one another the truth. You made me
+angry because what you said was true. I _was_ selling myself, selling
+myself with my eyes open, too, and you’ve got a perfect right never to
+speak to me again ...”
+
+She did not finish the sentence but broke off. Her voice died away
+quaveringly. Robin took her hand in his.
+
+“Dear,” he said, “don’t cry! It’s over and done with now ...”
+
+Mary shook herself with an angry gesture.
+
+“What’s the good of telling me not to cry?” she protested tearfully;
+“I’ve disgraced myself in my own eyes as well as in yours. If you can’t
+forget what I was ready to do, I never shall ...”
+
+Very gently the young man turned the girl towards him.
+
+“I’m not such a prig as all that,” he said. “We all make mistakes. You
+know I understand the position you were in. Parrish is dead. I shall
+forget the rest ...”
+
+Slowly the girl withdrew her hands from his grasp.
+
+“Yes,” she said wearily, “you will find it easy to forget!”
+
+She drew her fur closer about her neck and turned her back on the sea.
+
+“I must go down,” she said. And waited for the man to stand aside. He
+did not move and their eyes met. Suddenly, like a child, she buried her
+face in her arm flung out across his chest. She began to sob bitterly.
+
+“That afternoon ... in the billiard-room ...” she sobbed, “you will
+forget ... that ... too ... I suppose ...”
+
+Robin took her face in his hands, a hot, tear-stained face, and
+detached it from the sheltering arm.
+
+“My dear,” he said, “I shall have to try to forget it. But I know I
+shan’t succeed. To the end of my life I shall remember the kiss you
+gave me. But we are farther apart than ever now!”
+
+There was a great sadness in his voice. It arrested the girl’s
+attention as he dropped his hands and turned back to the rail.
+
+“Why?” she said in a low voice, without looking up.
+
+“Because,” replied the young man steadily, “you’re rich now, Mary ...”
+
+The girl looked up quickly.
+
+“Will men ever understand women?” she cried, a new note in her voice.
+She stepped forward and, putting her two hands on the young man’s
+shoulders, swung him round to face her.
+
+“I’m as poor as ever I was,” she said, “for Hartley Parrish’s money is
+not for me ...”
+
+“Mary!” exclaimed the young man joyfully.
+
+“Robin Greve,” cried the girl, “do you mean to tell me you’d stand
+there thinking I’d accept money made like that ...”
+
+But now she was in his arms. With a little fluttering sigh she yielded
+to his kiss.
+
+“Oh, the man on the bridge!...” she murmured with her woman’s instinct
+for the conventions.
+
+“Come behind the boat, then!” commanded Robin.
+
+And in the shadow of a weather-stained davit he kissed her again.
+
+“So you’ll wait for me, after all, Mary?”
+
+“No,” retorted the girl firmly. “We’ll read the Riot Act to Mother and
+you must marry me at once!”
+
+The wind blew cold from the North Sea. It rattled in the rigging,
+flapped the ensign standing out stiffly at the stern, and whirled the
+black smoke from the steamer’s funnels out into a dark aerial wake as
+far as the eye could reach. With a gentle rhythmic motion the vessel
+rose and fell, while the stars began to pale and faint grey shadows
+appeared in the eastern sky. Still the man and the girl stood by the
+swaying lifeboat and talked the things that lovers say. Step by step
+they went over their thoughts for one another in each successive phase
+of the dark tragedy through which they had passed.
+
+“And that van der Spyck letter,” asked Robin; “how did you get hold of
+it? I’ve been wanting to ask you that ever since this afternoon ...”
+
+“I found it in the library,” replied the girl, “on the desk. It had got
+tucked away between two letter-trays—one fits into the other, you
+know.”
+
+“I wondered how Jeekes had come to miss it,” said Robin. “But when was
+this?” he added.
+
+“On Sunday afternoon.”
+
+“But what were you doing in the library?”
+
+The girl became a little embarrassed.
+
+“I knew Mr. Manderton was suspicious of you. I heard him telephoning
+instructions to London to have you watched. So I thought I’d go to the
+library to see if I could find anything which would show what they had
+against you exactly. And I found this letter. Then I noticed some one
+hiding behind the curtains, and, as I had the letter in my hand, I hid
+it in my dress. When I discovered that Bruce Wright was after it too, I
+pretended I had found nothing ...”
+
+“But, darling, why?”
+
+“I wanted to make sure for myself why you had sent Bruce Wright, for I
+guessed he had come from you, to look for this letter. So I thought I’d
+go to Rotterdam to investigate ...”
+
+Robin laughed affectionately.
+
+“Surely it would have been simpler to have given the letter to the
+police ...”
+
+Mary gave him a look of indignant surprise.
+
+“But it might have incriminated you!” she exclaimed.
+
+At that Robin kissed her again.
+
+“Will men _ever_ understand women?” he asked, looking into her tranquil
+grey eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+AN INTERRUPTION FROM BEYOND
+
+
+Sudden frost had laid an icy finger on the gardens of Harkings. The
+smooth green lawns were all dappled with white and wore a pinched and
+chilly look save under the big and solemn firs where the ground, warmed
+by its canopy of branches and coverlet of cones, had thawed in dark
+patches. The gravel walks were firm and dry; and in the rosery the bare
+skeleton of the pergolas stood out in clear-cut silhouette against a
+white and woolly sky.
+
+Overnight the frost had come. It had taken even the birds by surprise.
+They hopped forlornly about the paths as though wondering where they
+would get their breakfast. Robin Greve, idly watching them from the
+library window, found himself contrasting the cheerful winter landscape
+with the depressing conditions of the previous day. In wind and rain
+the master of Harkings had been laid to rest in the quiet little
+churchyard of Stevenish. The ceremony had been arranged in haste, as
+soon as the coroner’s jury had viewed the body. Robin Greve, that
+morning arrived from Rotterdam, Bude, and Mr. Bardy the solicitor, had
+been the only mourners. As Robin looked out upon the wintry scene, his
+mind reverted to the hurried funeral with its depressing accompaniment
+of gleaming umbrellas, mud from the freshly turned clay, and dripping
+trees.
+
+Beneath the window of the library, its shattered pane now replaced, a
+cluster of starlings whistled gaily, darting bright-eyed glances, full
+of anticipation, at the closed window.
+
+“_He_ used to give them crumbs every morning after breakfast,” said
+Mary. “See, Robin, how they are looking up! It seems a shame to
+disappoint them....”
+
+As though relieved to be quit of his dark thoughts, Robin, with a glad
+smile, turned to the girl. Dipping his hand into his pocket, he
+produced a hunk of bread and put it in her hand.
+
+“You think of everything!” she said, smiling back at him prettily.
+
+He pushed up the window and she crumbled the bread for the birds. He
+rested one hand on her shoulder.
+
+“He thought of everything, too,” was his comment, “even down to the
+birds. It’s extraordinary! No detail was too small for him!...”
+
+“He _was_ remarkable, Robin,” answered the girl soberly; “there was
+something magnetic about his personality that made people like him.
+Even now that he is dead, even in spite of what we know, I can feel his
+attraction still. And the whole house is impregnated with his
+personality. Particularly this room. Don’t you feel it? I don’t mind
+being here with you, Robin, but I shouldn’t like to be here alone. I
+was dreadfully frightened on Sunday evening when I came here. And when
+I saw the curtains move ... oh! I thought my heart would stop beating!
+Dear, I’m glad we are giving this place up. I don’t feel that I could
+ever be happy here ... even with you!”
+
+“Poor devil!” said Robin. And then again he said: “Poor devil!”
+
+“It was terrible ... to die like that!” replied Mary.
+
+“It was terrible for him to lose _you_!” answered the young man.
+
+She gave his hand a little, tender squeeze, but relinquished it quickly
+as the door opened.
+
+Mr. Manderton was there, broad-shouldered and burly. Behind came Dr.
+Romain with a purple nose and eyes watering with the cold, Horace
+Trevert in plain clothes, Mr. Bardy, the solicitor, plump, middle-aged,
+and prim, with a broad, smooth-shaven face and an eyeglass on a black
+silk riband. In the background loomed the large form of Inspector
+Humphries, ruddy of cheek as of hair. Lady Margaret did not appear.
+
+Mr. Manderton slapped his bowler hat briskly on a side table and with a
+little bow to Mary walked to the desk.
+
+“Now,” said Mr. Manderton with a long, shrewd look that comprehended
+the company, individually and collectively, and the entire room, “if
+Inspector Humphries will kindly close the door, we will reconstruct the
+crime in the light of the evidence we have collected.”
+
+He turned round to the desk and pulled back the chair ... Hartley
+Parrish’s empty chair.
+
+“It is just on five o’clock on Saturday evening, November 27,” he
+began, “and growing dark outside. Mr. Parrish is sitting here”—he
+tapped the chair—“with all the lights in the room turned off except
+this one on the desk.”
+
+Here he put a large hand on the reading-lamp.
+
+“The assumption that Mr. Parrish spent the afternoon, as he had spent
+the morning, over papers in connection with the business of Hornaway’s
+in which he was interested is not correct. Mr. Archer, one of Mr.
+Parrish’s secretaries who brought down a number of papers and letters
+for Mr. Parrish to sign in the morning, states that as far as
+Hornaway’s or any other office business was concerned, Mr. Parrish was
+through with it by lunch. This is corroborated by the fact that no
+business papers of this description, with the exception of one, which I
+am coming to directly, were found on the desk here after Mr. Parrish’s
+death. Nor were there any traces of burnt paper in or about the fire.
+These two facts were established by my colleague, Inspector Humphries.”
+
+At this everybody turned and looked at the Inspector, who blushed until
+the tint of his hair positively paled by comparison with that of his
+face.
+
+“What Mr. Archer _did_ leave with Mr. Parrish, however,” Mr. Manderton
+resumed, looking round the group and emphasising the “did,” “was his
+will and this letter ...”—he held up a typewritten sheet of slatey-blue
+paper—“which, a straightforward business communication in appearance,
+was in reality a threat against his life. It was with these two
+documents that Mr. Parrish spent the last few hours before he was found
+dead in this room. A few odd papers found lying on the desk have
+nothing to do with the case and may therefore be dismissed.”
+
+Mr. Manderton paused and then, with the deliberation which
+distinguished his every movement, walked round the desk to the window.
+
+“The fire in this room,” he said, turning and facing his audience, “was
+smoking. The butler will testify to this and state that Mr. Parrish
+complained about it to him with the result that the sweep was ordered
+for Monday morning. Owing to the smoke in the room Mr. Parrish opened
+the window. His finger-prints were on the inside of the window-frame
+and a small fragment of white paint was still adhering to one of his
+finger-nails.
+
+“The window, then, was open as it is now. Mr. Parrish sat at his desk,
+read through his will, and wrote a letter to Miss Trevert informing her
+that, under the will, she was left sole legatee. This letter, with the
+will, was found on the desk after Mr. Parrish’s death. Presumably in
+view of the threat against his life contained in this letter,”—the
+detective held up the slatey-blue paper,—“Mr. Parrish had either in his
+pocket or, as I am more inclined to think, lying on the desk in front
+of him, his Browning automatic pistol. This pistol was fitted with a
+Maxim silencer, an invention for suppressing the report of a firearm,
+which was sent to Mr. Parrish by a friend in America some years ago and
+which he kept permanently attached to the weapon.”
+
+Mr. Manderton came to an impressive full stop and glanced round his
+circle of listeners. He gave his explanations easily and fluently, but
+in a plain, matter-of-fact tone such as a police constable employs in
+the witness-box. He had marshalled his facts well, and his measured
+advance towards his _dénouement_ was not without its effect on his
+audience. Dr. Romain, nursing his knee on a leather settee, Horace
+Trevert, a tall slim figure eagerly watching the detective from his
+perch on the arm of the Chesterfield, and Robin and Mary, standing,
+very close together, behind the empty chair at the desk—each and every
+one was listening with rapt attention. Inspector Humphries, propping
+his big bulk uneasily against the wall near the door, was the only one
+who appeared to be oblivious of the strain.
+
+The detective walked round the desk and seated himself in the chair.
+
+“Mr. Parrish is seated at the desk here,” he resumed, “when his
+attention is directed to the window.”
+
+And here Mr. Manderton raised his head and looked out towards the
+frost-strewn gardens.
+
+“Maybe he hears a step, more probably he sees a face staring at him out
+of the dark. Very much to his surprise he recognizes Jeekes, his
+principal private secretary—I say to his surprise because he must have
+believed Jeekes, who had the week-end free, to be in London. And at
+that, perhaps because he thinks he has made a mistake—in any case to
+make sure—he gets up....”
+
+The detective suited the action to the word. He pushed back the chair
+and rose to his feet. They saw he held a large automatic pistol in his
+hand.
+
+“He has had this threatening letter, remember, so he takes his pistol
+with him. And he reaches the window ...”
+
+The detective was at the window now, his back to the room.
+
+“He speaks to Jeekes, angrily, maybe—the butler heard the sound of loud
+voices—they have words. And then ...”
+
+There came a knock at the library door. It was not a loud knock. It was
+in reality scarcely more than a gentle tap. But it fell upon a silence
+of Manderton’s own creating, a rapt silence following a pause which
+preceded the climax of his narrative. So the discreet knocking
+resounded loud and clear through the library.
+
+“Who is that? What is it?” rapped out Dr. Romain irritably.
+
+“Don’t let any one disturb us, Inspector!” called out Horace Trevert to
+Inspector Humphries, who had opened the door.
+
+Bude’s face appeared in the doorway. He had a short altercation with
+the Inspector, who resolutely interposed his massive form between the
+butler and the room.
+
+“What is it, Bude?” asked Robin, going to the door.
+
+“It’s a letter for Miss Trevert, sir!” said Bude.
+
+“Well, leave it in the hall. Miss Trevert can’t be disturbed at present
+...”
+
+“But ... but, sir,” the butler protested. Then Robin noticed that he
+was trembling with excitement and that his features were all
+distraught.
+
+“What’s the matter with you, Bude?” Robin demanded.
+
+Humphries had stood on one side and Robin now faced the butler.
+
+“It’s a letter from ... that Jeekes!” faltered Bude, holding out a
+salver. “I know his writing, sir!”
+
+“For Miss Trevert?”
+
+Robin gathered up the plain white envelope. It bore a Dutch stamp. The
+postmark was Rotterdam. He gave the letter to Mary. It was bulky and
+heavy.
+
+“For you,” he said, and stood beside her while she broke the seal. By
+this they had all gathered round her.
+
+The envelope fluttered to the floor. Mary was unfolding a wad of sheets
+of writing-paper folded once across. She glanced at the topmost sheet,
+then handed the bundle to Robin.
+
+“It’s a confession!” she said.
+
+From beyond the grave the little secretary had spoken and spoiled Mr.
+Manderton’s _dénouement_.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+THE DEATH OF HARTLEY PARRISH
+
+
+“For Miss Trevert.”
+
+Thus, in Jeekes’s round and flowing commercial hand, the document
+began:
+
+Last Statement of Albert Edward Jeekes, made at Rotterdam, this
+twenty-first Day of January, in the Year of Our Lord One Thousand Nine
+Hundred and...
+
+
+Mr. Bardy, the solicitor, to whom, by common consent, the reading of
+the confession had been entrusted, raised his eyebrows, thereby letting
+his eyeglass fall, and looked round at the company.
+
+“Pon my soul,” he remarked, “for a man about to take his own life, our
+friend seems to have been the coolest customer imaginable. Look at it!
+Written in a firm hand and almost without an erasure. Very remarkable!
+Very remarkable, indeed!...”
+
+“Hm!” grunted Mr. Manderton, “not so uncommon as you suppose, Mr.
+Bardy, sir. Hendriks, the Palmers Green poisoner, typed out his
+confession on cream inlaid paper before dosing himself. But let’s hear
+what the gentleman has to tell us....”
+
+This was the last digression. Thenceforth Mr. Bardy read out the
+confession to the end without interruption.
+
+_For Miss Trevert_:
+
+
+_Madam_,
+
+
+I slew, but I am not a murderer: I Killed, but without deliberation.
+
+Victor Marbran has gone and left me to meet a shameful death. But I
+cannot face the scaffold. As men go, I do not believe I am a coward and
+I am not afraid to die. But the inexorable deliberation of justice
+appals me. When I have written what I have to write, I shall be hangman
+to myself. My pistol they have taken away.
+
+Victor Marbran has abandoned me. He had prepared everything for his
+flight. Even if the law can indict him as the virtual murderer of
+Hartley Parrish, the law will never lay hands on him. Victor Marbran
+neglects no detail. He will never be caught. But from the Great Unknown
+for which I shall presently set out, I shall stretch forth my hand and
+see that, here or there, he does not escape the punishment he merits
+for bringing down shame and disgrace upon me.
+
+Just now he bade me stay in the office and finish burning the papers in
+his desk. He promised he would take me with him to a secure
+hiding-place which he had made ready for some such emergency as this. I
+believed him and, unsuspecting, stayed. And now he has slipped away. He
+is gone and the house is empty. I cannot follow him even did I know
+where he has gone. I have only a very little money left and I am tired.
+Very tired. I feel I cannot support the hue-and-cry they will raise.
+Everything is still about me. The quiet of the country is very
+soothing. To die like this, with darkness falling and no sound but the
+rustling rain, is the better way ...
+
+Hartley Parrish was the man behind the great syndicate which
+systematically ran the British blockade of Germany in the war. He
+financed Marbran and the international riff-raff of profiteers with
+whom Marbran worked. Parrish supplied the funds, often the goods as
+well,—at any rate, until they tightened up the blockade,—while Marbran
+and the rest of the bunch in neutral countries did the trading with the
+enemy.
+
+Parrish was a deep one. I say nothing against him. He was a kind
+employer to me and I played him false, for which I have been bitterly
+punished. To have swindled Victor Marbran—I count it as nothing against
+him, for that heartless, cruel man is deserving of no pity ...
+
+Parrish was the heart and soul, brains and muscle of the syndicate. He
+lurked far in the background. Any and every trail which might possibly
+lead back to him was carefully effaced. He was secure as long as
+Marbran and one or two other big men in the business kept faith with
+him. Now and then, when the British Intelligence were too hot on the
+trail, Parrish and Marbran would give away one of the small fry
+belonging to the organization and thus stave off suspicion. They could
+do this in complete safety, for so perfect was their organization that
+the small fry only knew the small fry in the shallows and never the big
+fish in the deep ...
+
+But Hartley Parrish was in Marbran’s hands. They stood or fell
+together. Parrish knew this. But he was a born gambler and insanely
+self-confident. He took a chance with Marbran. It cost him his life.
+
+All payments were made to Parrish. He was treasurer and banker of the
+syndicate. Money came in by all sorts of devious routes, sometimes from
+as far afield as South or Central America. Parrish distributed the
+profits. Everything was in his hands.
+
+By the time the armistice came, the game had got too hot. All the big
+fish except Marbran had cleared out with their pile. But Marbran, like
+Parrish, was a gambler. He stuck it out and stayed on.
+
+Parrish played fair until the war was over. The armistice, of course,
+put an end to the business. But some months after the armistice a sum
+of £150,000 was paid to Parrish through a Spanish bank in settlement,
+Marbran told me, for petrol indirectly delivered to the German
+Admiralty. Parrish pouched the lot. Not a penny did Marbran get.
+
+Parrish and Marbran were old friends. They were young men together on
+the Rand gold-fields in the early days. In fact, I believe they went
+out to South Africa together as penniless London lads. But Marbran
+hated Parrish, though Parrish had, I believe, been his benefactor in
+many ways. Marbran was fiercely envious of the other because he
+realized that, starting with an equal chance, Parrish had left him far
+behind. Everything that Parrish touched prospered, while Marbran was in
+perpetual financial straits. He was Parrish’s equal in courage, but not
+in judgment.
+
+Parrish calculated that Marbran would not dare to denounce him. He had
+always taken the lead in their schemes and he affected to disregard
+Marbran altogether. So he left the latter’s letters unanswered and
+laughed at his threats. He was quite sure that Marbran would never risk
+losing his pile by giving Parrish away, for they were, of course, both
+British subjects and both in it together ...
+
+Marbran always distrusted Parrish, and long before the breach came, he
+picked on me to act the spy on my employer. I, too, was born a gambler,
+but, like Marbran, I lacked the lucky touch which made Parrish a
+millionaire. Speculation proved my ruin. I have often thanked my God on
+my bended knees—as I shall do again to-night before I pass over—that my
+insane folly has ruined no one but myself ...
+
+Already, when Hartley Parrish engaged me, I was up to the neck in
+speculation. Up to that time, however, I had managed to keep my head
+above water, but the large salary on which Parrish started me dazzled
+me. I tried a flutter in oil on a much larger scale than anything I had
+hitherto attempted, with the result that one day I found myself with a
+debt of nine hundred pounds to meet and no assets to meet it with. And
+I was two hundred pounds in debt to Hartley Parrish’s petty cash
+account, which I kept.
+
+It was Victor Marbran who came to my rescue. Parrish had sent me over
+to Rotterdam to fetch some papers from Marbran. At this time I knew
+nothing of Parrish’s blockade-running business. Parrish never took me
+into his confidence about it and the whole of the correspondence went
+direct to him through a number of secret channels with which I only
+gradually became acquainted behind his back.
+
+I had met Marbran several times in London and also at Rotterdam. It had
+struck me that he had formed a liking for me. On this particular visit
+to Rotterdam Marbran took me out to dinner and encouraged me to speak
+about myself. He was very sympathetic, and this, coupled with the wine
+I had taken, led me to open my heart to him. Without giving myself
+away, I let him understand that I was in considerable financial
+difficulties, which I set down to the high cost of living as the result
+of the war.
+
+Without a word of warning Marbran pulled out his cheque-book.
+
+“How much do you want,” he asked, “to put you straight?”
+
+Nine hundred pounds, I told him.
+
+He wrote the cheque at once there at the table. He would advance me the
+money, he said, and put me down for shares in a business in which he
+was interested. It was a safe thing and profits were very high. I could
+repay him at my leisure.
+
+In this way I became a shareholder in Parrish’s blockade-running
+syndicate. The return I was to make was to spy on my employer and to
+report to Marbran the letters which Parrish received and the names of
+the people whom he interviewed.
+
+Of course, Marbran did not propose this plan at once. When I took leave
+of him that night, I remember, I all but broke down at the thought of
+his unsolicited generosity. I have had a hard life, Miss Trevert, and
+his seeming kindness broke me all up. But I might have known.
+
+I cashed Marbran’s cheque and put back the two hundred pounds I had
+taken from the petty cash account. But I went on speculating. You see,
+I did not believe Marbran’s story about the shares he said he would put
+me down for. I thought it was a charitable tale to spare my feelings.
+So I plunged once more in the confident hope of recovering enough to
+repay my debt to Marbran.
+
+A month later Marbran sent me a cheque for one hundred pounds. He said
+it was the balance of fifteen hundred pounds due to me as profits on my
+shares less the nine hundred pounds I owed him and five hundred pounds
+for my shares. But my speculations had by this time gone wrong again,
+and I was heartily glad presently to receive a further cheque for two
+hundred pounds from Marbran. From that time on I got from Marbran sums
+varying between one hundred and fifty pounds and five hundred pounds a
+month.
+
+When Marbran made me his shameful offer, I rejected it with
+indignation. But I was fast in the trap. Marbran explained to me in
+great detail and with the utmost candour the working of the Parrish
+syndicate. He let me know very plainly that I was as deeply implicated
+as Parrish and he. I was a shareholder; I had received and was
+receiving my share of the profits. In my distress and shame I
+threatened to expose the pair of them. Had I known the source of his
+money, I told him, I should never have accepted it. At that Marbran
+laughed contemptuously.
+
+“You tell that yarn to the police,” he sneered, “and hear what they
+say!”
+
+And then I realized that I was in the net.
+
+I make no excuses for myself. I shall make none to the Great Judge
+before whom in a little while I shall appear. I had not the moral force
+to resist Marbran. I did his bidding: I continued to take his money and
+I held my peace.
+
+And then came the breach between Parrish and Marbran. I was the cause
+of it. But for me, his trusty spy, Marbran would have known nothing of
+this payment of £150,000 which Parrish received from Spain, and this
+tragedy would not have happened. God forgive me ...
+
+Marbran appealed to Parrish in vain. What he wrote I never knew, for,
+shortly after, Parrish quietly and without any explanation took the
+confidential work out of my hands. I believe he suspected then who
+Marbran’s spy was. But he said nothing to me of his suspicions at that
+time ...
+
+Finally, Marbran came to London. It was on Tuesday of last week. I had
+been up in Sheffield on business, and on my return I found Marbran
+waiting for me at my rooms.
+
+He was like a man possessed. Never before have I witnessed such an
+outburst of ungovernable rage. Parrish, it appears, had declined to see
+him. He swore that Parrish should not get the better of him if he had
+to kill him first. I can see Marbran now as he sat on my bed, his livid
+face distorted with fury.
+
+“I’ll give him a last chance,” he cried, “and then, by God, let our
+smart Alec look out!”
+
+This sort of talk frightened me. I knew Marbran meant mischief. He was
+a bad man to cross. I was desperately afraid he would waylay Parrish
+and bring down disaster on the three of us. I did my utmost to put the
+idea of violence out of his mind. I begged him to content himself with
+trying to frighten Parrish into paying up before trying other means.
+
+My suggestion seemed to awaken some old memory in Marbran’s mind.
+
+“By Gad, Jeekes,” he said, after a moment’s thought, “you’ve given me
+an idea. Parrish has a yellow streak. He’s scared of a gun. I saw it
+once, years ago, in a roughhouse we got into at Krugersdorp on the
+Rand. Damn it, I know how to bring the yellow dog to heel, and I’ll
+tell you how we’ll do it ...”
+
+He then unfolded his plan. He would send Parrish a last demand for a
+settlement, threatening him with death if he did not pay up. The
+warning would reach Parrish on the following Saturday. Marbran would
+contrive that he should receive it by the first post. As soon as
+possible thereafter I was to go to Parrish boldly and demand his
+answer.
+
+“And you’ll take a gun,” Marbran said, peering at me with his cunning
+little eyes, “and you’ll show it. And if at the sight of it you don’t
+get the brass, then I don’t know my old pal, Mister Hartley Parrish,
+Esquire!”
+
+The proposal appalled me. I knew nothing of Hartley Parrish’s “yellow
+streak.” I knew him only as a hard and resolute man, swift in decision
+and ruthless in action. Whatever happened, I argued, Parrish would
+discharge me and there was every prospect of his handing me over to the
+police as well.
+
+Marbran was deaf to my reasoning. I had nothing to fear, he protested.
+Parrish would collapse at the first sign of force. And as for my losing
+my job, Marbran would find me another and a better one in his office at
+Rotterdam.
+
+Still I held out. The chance of losing my position, even of being sent
+to gaol, daunted me less, I think, than the admission to Parrish of the
+blackly ungrateful role I had played towards him. In the end I told
+Marbran to do his dirty work himself.
+
+But I spoke without conviction. I realized that Marbran held me in a
+cleft stick and that he realized it, too. He wasted no further time in
+argument. I knew what I had to do, he said, and I would do it.
+Otherwise ...
+
+He left me in an agony of mental stress. At that time, I swear to
+Heaven, Miss Trevert, I was determined to let Marbran do his worst
+rather than lend myself to this odious blackmailing trick, my own
+suggestion, as I bitterly remembered. But for the rest of the week his
+parting threat rang in my ears. Unless he heard by the following Sunday
+that I had confronted Parrish and called his bluff, as he put it, the
+British police should have word, not only of Parrish’s activities in
+trading with the enemy, but of mine as well.
+
+It was no idle threat. Parrish and Marbran had put men away before. I
+could give you the names ...
+
+It is quite dark now. It must be an hour since Greve took you away.
+Soon he will be back with the police to arrest me and I must have
+finished by then, finished with the story, finished with life ...
+
+Last week I worked at Parrish’s city office. I told you how he kept me
+off his confidential work. On Saturday morning I went round to the
+house in St. James’s Square to see whether Marbran had really sent his
+warning. Archer, my colleague, who was acting as confidential secretary
+in my stead, was there. Parrish was at Harkings, he told me. Archer was
+going down by car that morning with his mail. It included two “blue
+letters” which Archer would, according to orders, hand to Parrish
+unopened.
+
+These “blue letters,” as we secretaries used to call them, written on a
+striking bluish paper, were the means by which all communications
+passed between Parrish and Marbran on the syndicate’s business. They
+were drafted in conventional code and came to Parrish from all parts of
+Europe and in all kinds of ways. No one saw them except himself. By his
+strict injunctions, they were to be opened only by himself in person.
+
+When Archer told me that two “blue letters” had come, I knew that
+Marbran had kept his word. Though my mind was not made up, instinct
+told me I was going to play my part ...
+
+I could not face the shame of exposure. I was brought up in a decent
+English home. To stand in the dock charged with prolonging the
+sufferings of our soldiers and sailors in order to make money was a
+prospect I could not even contemplate.
+
+I thought it all out that Saturday morning as I stood at the
+dressing-table in my bedroom by the open drawer in which my automatic
+pistol lay. It was one given me by Parrish some years before at a time
+when he thought we might be going on a trip to Rumania ...
+
+I slipped the pistol into my pocket. I felt like a man in a dream. I
+believe I went down to Harkings by train, but I have no clear
+recollection of the journey. I seemed to come to my senses only when I
+found myself standing on the high bank of the rosery at Harkings,
+looking down upon the library window.
+
+Outside in the gardens it was nearly dark, but from the window fell a
+stream of subdued light. The curtains had not been drawn and the window
+was open at the bottom. Parrish sat at the desk. Only the desk-lamp was
+lit, so that his face was in shadow, but his two hands, stretched out
+on the blotter in front of him, lay in a pool of light, and I caught
+the gleam of his gold signet ring.
+
+He was not writing or working. He seemed to be thinking. I watched him
+in a fascinated sort of way. I had never seen him sit thus idly at his
+desk before ...
+
+My brain worked quite lucidly now. As I looked at him, I suddenly
+realised that I had a golden opportunity for speaking to him
+unobserved. The gardens were absolutely deserted: the library wing was
+very still. If he were a man to be frightened into submission, my
+sudden appearance, following upon the receipt of the threatening
+letter, would be likely to help in achieving this result.
+
+I walked softly down the steps to the window. I stood close up to the
+sill.
+
+“Mr. Parrish,” I said, “Victor Marbran has sent me for his answer.”
+
+In a flash he was on his feet.
+
+“Who’s there?” he cried out in alarm.
+
+His voice shook, and I could see his hand tremble in the lamplight as
+he clutched at the desk. Then I knew that he was badly frightened, and
+the discovery gave me courage.
+
+“Are you going to settle with Marbran or are you not?” I said.
+
+At that he peered forward. All of a sudden his manner changed.
+
+“What in hell does this mean, Jeekes?”
+
+His voice quavered no longer. It was hard and menacing.
+
+But I had burnt my boats behind me now.
+
+“It means,” I answered boldly, “that you’ve got to pay up. And you’ve
+got to pay up now!”
+
+In a couple of quick strides he was round the desk and coming at me as
+I stood with my chest pressing against the window-sill. His hands were
+thrust in his jacket pockets. His face was red with anger.
+
+“You dawggorn dirty little rathole spy,”—he spat the words at me in a
+low, threatening voice,—“I guessed that lowdown skunk Marbran had been
+getting at some of my people!”
+
+His voice rose in a sudden gust of passion.
+
+“You rotten little worm! You’d try and bounce me, would you? You’ve
+come to the wrong shop for that, Mr. Spying Jeekes ...”
+
+His manner was incredibly insulting. So was the utter contempt with
+which he looked at me. This man, who had trembled with fear at the
+unknown, recovered his self-control on finding that the menace came
+from the menial, the hireling, he despised. I felt the blood rush in a
+hot flood to my head. I lost all self-control. I screamed aloud at him.
+
+“There’s no bounce about it this time! If you don’t pay up, you know
+what to expect!”
+
+I had been holding my pistol out of his sight below the window-ledge,
+but on this I swung it up and levelled it at him.
+
+He sprang back a pace, the colour fading on the instant from his face,
+his mouth twisted awry in a horrid paroxysm of fear. Even in that
+subdued light I could see that his cheeks were as white as paper.
+
+But then in a flash his right hand went up. I saw the pistol he held,
+but before I could make a movement there was a loud, raucous hiss of
+air and a bullet whistled past my ear into the darkness of the gardens.
+How he missed me at that range I don’t know, but, seeing me standing
+there, he came at me again with the pistol in his hand ...
+
+And then you, Miss Trevert, cried out, “Hartley,” and rattled the
+handle of the door. Your cry merged in a deafening report. Parrish, who
+was quite close to me, and advancing, stopped short with a little
+startled exclamation, his eyes reproachful, full of surprise. He stood
+there and swayed, looking at me all the time, then crashed backwards on
+the floor. And I found myself staring at the smoking pistol in my hand
+...
+
+It was your scream that brought me to my senses. My mind cleared
+instantly. I knew I must act quickly. The house would be alarmed
+directly, and before that happened, I must be clear of the grounds. Yet
+I knew that before I went I must do something to make myself safe ...
+
+I stood at the window staring down at the dead man. His eyes were
+terrible. Like a suicide he looked, I thought. And then it flashed
+across my mind that only one shot had been heard and that our pistols
+were identical and fired the same ammunition. The silencer! The
+silencer could save me. With that removed, the suicide theory might
+pass muster: at any rate, it would delay other investigations and give
+me a start ...
+
+In a matter of a second or two I believe I thought of everything. I did
+not overlook the danger of leaving finger-prints or foot-marks about. I
+had not taken off my gloves, and my boots were perfectly dry. In
+climbing into the room I was most careful to see that I did not mark
+the window-sill or scratch the paintwork ...
+
+I stood beside the body and I caught the dead man’s hand. It was fat
+and soft and still warm. The touch of it made me reel with horror. I
+turned my face away from his so as not to see his eyes again....
+
+I got the silencer. Parrish had shown it to me and I knew how to detach
+it....
+
+I went back through the window as carefully as I had come in. And I
+pushed the window down. Parrish would have done that, I thought, if he
+had meant to commit suicide. And then my nerve went. The window
+frightened me. The blank glass with the silent room beyond;—it reminded
+me of Parrish’s sightless gaze. I turned and ran....
+
+I did not mean to kill. As there is a God in ...
+
+On that unfinished sentence the confession ended.
+
+
+Mr. Bardy put the bundle of manuscript down on the desk and, dropping
+his eyeglass from his eye, caught it deftly and began to polish it
+vigorously with his pocket handkerchief. As no one spoke, he said:
+
+“That’s all. It ends there!”
+
+He looked round the circle of earnest faces. Then Horace Trevert
+crossed to the desk.
+
+“Robin,” he said, and held out his hand, “I want to apologize. I ... we
+... behaved very badly ...”
+
+Robin grasped the boy’s hand.
+
+“Not a word about that, Horace, old boy,” he said. “Besides, Mary is
+putting all that right, you know!”
+
+“She told me,” replied Horace; “and, Robin, I’m tremendously glad!”
+
+“Mr. Greve!”
+
+Robin turned to find Mr. Manderton, large and impressive, at his elbow.
+
+“Might I have a word with you?”
+
+Robin followed the detective across the room to the window.
+
+Mr. Manderton seemed a trifle embarrassed.
+
+“Er—- Mr. Greve,” he said, clearing his throat rather nervously, “I
+should like to—er,—offer you my congratulations on the remarkably
+accurate view you took of this case. I should have been able to prove
+to you, I believe, but for this curious interruption, that your view
+and mine practically coincided. It has been a pleasure to work with
+you, sir!”
+
+He cast a hasty glance over his shoulder at the other occupants of the
+room, who were gathered round the desk.
+
+“I’m not a society man, Mr. Greve,” he added, “and I have a lot of work
+on my hands regarding the case. So I think I’ll run off now ...”
+
+He broke off, gave Robin a large hand, and, looking neither to right
+nor to left, made a hurried exit from the room, taking Inspector
+Humphries with him.
+
+“Now that we are just among ourselves”—the solicitor was speaking—“I
+think I may seize the opportunity of saying a word about Mr. Parrish’s
+will. Miss Trevert, as you know, is made principal legatee, but I
+understand from her that she does not propose to accept the
+inheritance. I will not comment on this decision of hers, which does
+her moral sense, at any rate, infinite credit, but I should observe
+that Mr. Parrish has left directions for the payment of an allowance—I
+may say, a most handsome allowance—to Lady Margaret Trevert during her
+ladyship’s lifetime. This is a provision over which Miss Trevert’s
+decision, of course, can have no influence. I would only remark that,
+according to Mr. Parrish’s instructions, this allowance will be paid
+from the dividends on a percentage of his holdings in Hornaway’s under
+the new scheme. I have not yet had an opportunity of looking further
+into Mr. Parrish’s affairs in the light of the information which Mr.
+Greve obtained in Rotterdam, but I have reason to believe that he kept
+his interest in Hornaway’s and his—ahem!—other activities entirely
+separate. If this can be definitely established to my own satisfaction
+and to yours, my dear Miss Trevert, I see no reason why you should not
+modify your decision at least in respect of Mr. Parrish’s interest in
+Hornaway’s.”
+
+Mary Trevert looked at Robin and then at the solicitor.
+
+“No!” she said; “not a penny as far as I am concerned. With Mother the
+case is different. I told her last night of my decision in the matter.
+She disapproves of it. That is why she is not here to-day. But my mind
+is made up.”
+
+Mr. Bardy adjusted his eyeglass in his eye and gazed at the girl. His
+face wore an expression of pain mingled with compassion.
+
+“I will see Lady Margaret after lunch,” he said rather stiffly.
+
+Then the door opened and Bude appeared.
+
+“Luncheon is served, Miss!”
+
+He stood there, a portly, dignified figure in sober black, solemn of
+visage, sonorous of voice, a living example of the triumph of
+established tradition over the most savage buffetings of Fate. His
+enunciation was, if anything, more mellow, his demeanour more
+pontifical than of yore.
+
+Bude was once more in the service of a County Family.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
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+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" />
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+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Yellow Streak, by Valentine Williams</title>
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+<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Yellow Streak, by Valentine Williams</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
+at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
+are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
+country where you are located before using this eBook.
+</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Yellow Streak</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Valentine Williams</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 5, 2003 [eBook #9974]<br />
+[Most recently updated: October 14, 2021]</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Juliet Sutherland, Dave Morgan and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div>
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW STREAK ***</div>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:55%;">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" />
+</div>
+
+<h1>The Yellow Streak</h1>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">by Valentine Williams</h2>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>Contents</h2>
+
+<table summary="" style="">
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I. THE MASTER OF HARKINGS</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II. AT TWILIGHT</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III. A DISCOVERY</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV. BETWEEN THE DESK AND THE WINDOW</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V. IN WHICH BUDE LOOKS AT ROBIN GREVE</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI. THE LETTER</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII. VOICES IN THE LIBRARY</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII. ROBIN GOES TO MARY</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX. MR. MANDERTON</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X. A SMOKING CHIMNEY</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI. &ldquo;... SPEED THE PARTING GUEST!&rdquo;</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII. MR. MANDERTON IS NONPLUSSED</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII. JEEKES</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV. A SHEET OF BLUE PAPER</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER XV. SHADOWS</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI. THE INTRUDER</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII. A FRESH CLUE</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII. THE SILENT SHOT</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX. MR. MANDERTON LAYS HIS CARDS ON THE TABLE</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap20">CHAPTER XX. THE CODE KING</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap21">CHAPTER XXI. A WORD WITH MR. JEEKES</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap22">CHAPTER XXII. THE MAN WITH THE YELLOW FACE</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap23">CHAPTER XXIII. TWO’S COMPANY ...</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap24">CHAPTER XXIV. THE METAMORPHOSIS OF MR. SCHULZ</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap25">CHAPTER XXV. THE READING OF THE RIDDLE</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap26">CHAPTER XXVI. THE FIGURE IN THE DOORWAY</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap27">CHAPTER XXVII. AN INTERRUPTION FROM BEYOND</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap28">CHAPTER XXVIII. THE DEATH OF HARTLEY PARRISH</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>THE YELLOW STREAK</h2>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I.<br />
+THE MASTER OF HARKINGS</h2>
+
+<p>
+Of all the luxuries of which Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s sudden rise to wealth gave
+him possession, Bude, his butler, was the acquisition in which he took the
+greatest delight and pride. Bude was a large and comfortable-looking person,
+triple-chinned like an archdeacon, bald-headed except for a respectable and
+saving edging of dark down, clean-shaven, benign of countenance, with a bold
+nose which to the psychologist bespoke both ambition and inborn cleverness. He
+had a thin, tight mouth which in itself alone was a symbol of discreet
+reticence, the hall-mark of the trusted family retainer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude had spent his life in the service of the English aristocracy. The Earl of
+Tipperary, Major-General Lord Bannister, the Dowager Marchioness of Wiltshire,
+and Sir Herbert Marcobrunner, Bart., had in turn watched his gradual progress
+from pantry-boy to butler. Bude was a man whose maxim had been the French
+saying, &ldquo;<i>Je prends mon bien où je le trouve</i>.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In his thirty years&rsquo; service he had always sought to discover and draw
+from those sources of knowledge which were at his disposal. From MacTavish, who
+had supervised Lord Tipperary&rsquo;s world-famous gardens, he had learnt a
+great deal about flowers, so that the arrangement of the floral decorations was
+always one of the features at Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s <i>soigné</i>
+dinner-parties. From Brun, the unsurpassed <i>chef</i>, whom Lord Bannister had
+picked up when serving with the Guards in Egypt, he had gathered sufficient
+knowledge of the higher branches of the cuisine to enable Hartley Parrish to
+leave the arrangement of the menu in his butler&rsquo;s hands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude would have been the first to admit that, socially speaking, his present
+situation was not the equal of the positions he had held. There was none of the
+staid dignity about his present employer which was inborn in men like Lord
+Tipperary or Lord Bannister, and which Sir Herbert Marcobrunner, with the easy
+assimilative faculty of his race, had very successfully acquired. Below middle
+height, thick-set and powerfully built, with a big head, narrow eyes, and a
+massive chin, Hartley Parrish, in his absorbed concentration on his business,
+had no time for the acquisition or practice of the Eton manner.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was characteristic of Parrish that, seeing Bude at a dinner-party at
+Marcobrunner&rsquo;s, he should have engaged him on the spot. It took Bude a
+week to get over his shock at the manner in which the offer was made. Parrish
+had approached him as he was supervising the departure of the guests. Waving
+aside the footman who offered to help him into his overcoat, Parrish had asked
+Bude point-blank what wages he was getting. Bude mentioned the generous
+remuneration he was receiving from Sir Herbert Marcobrunner, whereupon Parrish
+had remarked:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come to me and I&rsquo;ll double it. I&rsquo;ll give you a week to think
+it over. Let my secretary know!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After a few discreet enquiries, Bude, faithful to his maxim, had accepted
+Parrish&rsquo;s offer. Marcobrunner was furiously angry, but, being anxious to
+interest Parrish in a deal, sagely kept his feelings to himself. And Bude had
+never regretted the change. He found Parrish an exacting, but withal a just and
+a generous master, and he was not long in realizing that, as long as he kept
+Harkings, Parrish&rsquo;s country place where he spent the greater part of his
+time, running smoothly according to Parrish&rsquo;s schedule, he could count on
+a life situation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The polish of manner, the sober dignity of dress, acquired from years of acute
+observation in the service of the nobility, were to be seen as, at the hour of
+five, in the twilight of this bleak autumn afternoon, Bude moved majestically
+into the lounge-hall of Harkings and leisurely pounded the gong for tea.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The muffled notes of the gong swelled out brazenly through the silent house.
+They echoed down the softly carpeted corridors to the library where the master
+of the house sat at his desk. For days he had been immersed in the figures of
+the new issue which Hornaway&rsquo;s, the vast engineering business of his
+creation, was about to put on the market. They reverberated up the fine old oak
+staircase to the luxurious Louis XV bedroom, where Lady Margaret Trevert lay on
+her bed idly smiling through an amusing novel. They crashed through the thickly
+padded baize doors leading to the servants&rsquo; hall, where, at sixpence a
+hundred, Parrish&rsquo;s man, Jay, was partnering Lady Margaret&rsquo;s maid
+against Mrs. Heever, the housekeeper, and Robert, the chauffeur, at a friendly
+game of bridge. And they even boomed distantly into the far-away billiard-room
+and broke into the talk which Robin Greve was having with Mary Trevert.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Damn!&rdquo; exclaimed Greve savagely, as the distant gonging came to
+his ears.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the gong for tea,&rdquo; said Mary demurely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was sitting on one of the big leather sofas lining the long room. Robin, as
+he gazed down at her from where he stood with his back against the edge of the
+billiard-table, thought what an attractive picture she made in the half-light.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The lamps over the table were lit, but the rest of the room was almost dark. In
+that lighting the thickly waving dark hair brought out the fine whiteness of
+the girl&rsquo;s skin. There was love, and a great desire for love, in her
+large dark eyes, but the clear-cut features, the well-shaped chin, and the firm
+mouth, the lips a little full, spoke of ambition and the love of power.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been here three whole days,&rdquo; said Robin, &ldquo;and
+I&rsquo;ve not had two words with you alone, Mary. And hardly have I got you to
+myself for a quiet game of pills when that rotten gong goes ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry you&rsquo;re disappointed at missing your game,&rdquo;
+the girl replied mischievously, &ldquo;but I expect you will be able to get a
+game with Horace or one of the others after tea ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin kicked the carpet savagely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know perfectly well I don&rsquo;t want to play billiards ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked up and caught the girl&rsquo;s eye. For a fraction of a second he saw
+in it the expression which every man at least once in his life looks to see in
+the eyes of one particular woman. In the girl&rsquo;s dark-blue eyes fringed
+with long black lashes he saw the dumb appeal, the mute surrender, which, as
+surely as the white flag on the battlements in war, is the signal of
+capitulation in woman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the expression was gone on the instant. It passed so swiftly that, for a
+second, Robin, seeing the gently mocking glance that succeeded it, wondered
+whether he had been mistaken.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But he was a man of action&mdash;a glance at his long, well-moulded head, his
+quick, wide-open eye, and his square jaw would have told you that&mdash;and he
+spoke.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s no use beating about the bush,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Mary,
+I&rsquo;ve got so fond of you that I&rsquo;m just miserable when you&rsquo;re
+away from me ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Robin, please ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert stood up and remained standing, her head turned a little away from
+him, a charming silhouette in her heather-blue shooting-suit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The young man took her listless hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you and I have been pals all our lives.
+It was only at the front that I began to realize just how much you meant to me.
+And now I know I can&rsquo;t do without you. I&rsquo;ve never met any one who
+has been to me just what you are. And, Mary, I must have you as my wife
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl remained motionless. She kept her face averted. The room seemed very
+still.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Robin, please ...&rdquo; she murmured again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Resolutely the young man put an arm about her and drew her to him. Slowly,
+reluctantly, she let him have his way. But she would not look at him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, my dear,&rdquo; he whispered, kissing her hair, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t
+you care a little?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She remained silent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you look at me, Mary?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a hint of huskiness in his voice. He raised her face to his.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I saw in your eyes just now that you cared for me,&rdquo; he whispered;
+&ldquo;oh, my Mary, say that you do!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he bent down and kissed her. For a brief instant their lips met and he
+felt the caress of the girl&rsquo;s arm about his neck.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Robin!&rdquo; she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That was all.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But then she drew away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Reluctantly the man let her go. The colour had faded from his cheeks when she
+looked at him again as he stood facing her in the twilight of the
+billiard-room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Robin, dear,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to hurt you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The young man seemed to have had a premonition of what was coming, for he
+betrayed no sign of surprise, but remained motionless, very erect, very pale.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear,&rdquo; said the girl with a little despairing shrug,
+&ldquo;it&rsquo;s hopeless! We can&rsquo;t afford to marry!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not yet, I know,&rdquo; said Robin, &ldquo;but I&rsquo;m getting on
+well, Mary, and in another year or two ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl looked down at the point of her little brogue shoe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what you will think of me,&rdquo; she said,
+&ldquo;but I can&rsquo;t accept ... I can&rsquo;t face ... I ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t face the idea of being the wife of a man who has his way
+to make. Is that it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The voice was rather stern.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl looked up impulsively.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t, Robin. I should never make you happy. Mother and I are as
+poor as church-mice. All the money in the family goes to keep Horace in the
+Army and pay for my clothes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She looked disdainfully at her pretty suit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All this,&rdquo; she went on with a little hopeless gesture indicating
+her tailor-made, &ldquo;is Mother&rsquo;s investment. No, no, it&rsquo;s true
+... I can tell you as a friend, Robin, dear, we are living on our capital until
+I have caught a rich husband ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, my dear,&rdquo; said Robin softly, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t say things
+like that ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl laughed a little defiantly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But it&rsquo;s true,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;The war has halved
+Mother&rsquo;s income and there&rsquo;s nothing between us and bankruptcy but a
+year or so ... unless I get married!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her voice trembled a little and she turned away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mary,&rdquo; said the young man hoarsely, &ldquo;for God&rsquo;s sake,
+don&rsquo;t do that!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He moved a step towards her, but she drew back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; she said with the tears glistening wet on
+her face, and dabbed at her eyes with her tiny handkerchief, &ldquo;but, oh,
+Robin boy, why couldn&rsquo;t you have held your tongue?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose I had no right to speak ...&rdquo; the young man began.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl sighed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I oughtn&rsquo;t to say it ... now,&rdquo; she said slowly, and looked
+across at Robin with shining eyes, &ldquo;but, Robin dear, I&rsquo;m ...
+I&rsquo;m glad you did!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She paused a moment as though turning something over in her mind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve ... I&rsquo;ve got something to tell you, Robin,&rdquo; she
+began. &ldquo;No, stay where you are! We must be sensible now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She paused and looked at him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Robin,&rdquo; she said slowly, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve promised to marry
+somebody else ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a moment&rsquo;s silence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who is it?&rdquo; Robin asked in a hard voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl made no answer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who is it? Do I know him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Still the girl was silent, but she gave a hardly perceptible nod.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not ...? No, no, Mary, it isn&rsquo;t true? It can&rsquo;t be
+true?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl nodded, her eyes to the ground.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a secret still,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;No one knows but
+Mother. Hartley doesn&rsquo;t want it announced yet!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The sound of the Christian name suddenly seemed to infuriate Greve.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By God!&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;it shan&rsquo;t be! You must be mad,
+Mary, to think of marrying a man like Hartley Parrish. A fellow who&rsquo;s
+years older than you, who thinks of nothing but money, who stood out of the war
+and made a fortune while men of his own age were doing the fighting for him!
+It&rsquo;s unthinkable ... it&rsquo;s ... it&rsquo;s damnable to think of a
+gross, ill-bred creature like Parrish ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Robin!&rdquo; the girl cried, &ldquo;you seem to forget that we&rsquo;re
+staying in his house. In spite of all you say he seems to be good enough for
+you to come and stay with ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I only came because you were to be here. You know that perfectly well. I
+admit one oughtn&rsquo;t to blackguard one&rsquo;s host, but, Mary, you must
+see that this marriage is absolutely out of the question!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl began to bridle up,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo; she asked loftily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because ... because Parrish is not the sort of man who will make you
+happy ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And why not, may I ask? He&rsquo;s very kind and very generous, and I
+believe he likes me ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin Greve made a gesture of despair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear girl,&rdquo; he said, trying to control himself to speak
+quietly, &ldquo;what do you know about this man? Nothing. But there are beastly
+stories circulating about his life ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert laughed cynically.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear old Robin,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;they tell stories about every
+bachelor. And I hardly think you are an unbiassed judge ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin Greve was pacing up and down the floor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re crazy, Mary,&rdquo; he said, stopping in front of her,
+&ldquo;to dream you can ever be happy with a man like Hartley Parrish. The
+man&rsquo;s a ruthless egoist. He thinks of nothing but money and he&rsquo;s
+out to buy you just exactly as you ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As I am ready to sell myself!&rdquo; the girl echoed. &ldquo;And I
+<i>am</i> ready, Robin. It&rsquo;s all very well for you to stand there and
+preach ideals at me, but I&rsquo;m sick and disgusted at the life we&rsquo;ve
+been leading for the past three years, hovering on the verge of ruin all the
+time, dunned by tradesmen and having to borrow even from servants ... yes, from
+old servants of the family ... to pay Mother&rsquo;s bridge debts.
+Mother&rsquo;s a good sort. Father spent all her money for her and she was
+brought up in exactly the same helpless way as she brought up me. I can do
+absolutely nothing except the sort of elementary nursing which we all learnt in
+the war, and if I don&rsquo;t marry well Mother will have to keep a
+boarding-house or do something ghastly like that. I&rsquo;m not going to
+pretend that I&rsquo;m thinking only of her, because I&rsquo;m not. I
+can&rsquo;t face a long engagement with no prospects except castles in Spain. I
+don&rsquo;t mean to be callous, Robin, but I expect I am naturally hard.
+Hartley Parrish is a good sort. He&rsquo;s very fond of me, and he will see
+that Mother lives comfortably for the rest of her life. I&rsquo;ve promised to
+marry him because I like him and he&rsquo;s a suitable match. And I don&rsquo;t
+see by what right you try and run him down to me behind his back! If it&rsquo;s
+jealousy, then it shows a very petty spirit!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin Greve stepped close up to Mary Trevert. His eyes were very angry and his
+jaw was set very square.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you are determined to sell yourself to the highest bidder,&rdquo; he
+said, &ldquo;I suppose there&rsquo;s no stopping you. But you&rsquo;re making a
+mistake. If Parrish were all you claim for him, you might not repent of his
+marriage so long as you did not care for somebody else. But I know you love me,
+and it breaks my heart to see you blundering into everlasting unhappiness
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;At least Hartley will be able to keep me,&rdquo; the girl flashed out.
+Directly she had spoken she regretted her words.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A red flush spread slowly over Robin Greve&rsquo;s face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he laughed drily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You won&rsquo;t be the first woman he&rsquo;s kept!&rdquo; he retorted,
+and stamped out of the billiard-room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl gave a little gasp. Then she reddened with anger.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How dare he?&rdquo; she cried, stamping her foot; &ldquo;how dare
+he?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She sank on the lounge and, burying her face in her hands, burst into tears.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Robin, Robin, dear!&rdquo; she sobbed&mdash;incomprehensibly, for
+she was a woman.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II.<br />
+AT TWILIGHT</h2>
+
+<p>
+There is a delicious snugness, a charming lack of formality, about the ceremony
+of afternoon tea in an English country-house&mdash;it is much too indefinite a
+rite to dignify it by the name of meal&mdash;which makes it the most pleasant
+reunion of the day. For English country-house parties consist, for the most
+part, of a succession of meals to which the guests flock the more congenially
+as, in the interval, they have contrived to avoid one another&rsquo;s
+companionship.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so, scarcely had the last reverberation of Bude&rsquo;s measured gonging
+died away than the French window leading from the lounge-hall on to the terrace
+was pushed open and two of Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s guests emerged from the
+falling darkness without into the pleasant comfort of the firelit room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They were an oddly matched pair. The one was a tubby little man with short
+bristly grey hair and a short bristly grey moustache to match. His stumpy legs
+looked ridiculous in his baggy golf knickers of rough tweed, which he wore with
+gaiters extending half-way up his short, stout calves. As he came in, he slung
+off the heavy tweed shooting-cloak he had been wearing and placed it with his
+Homburg hat on a chair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This was Dr. Romain, whose name thus written seems indecently naked without the
+string of complementary initials indicative of the honours and degrees which
+years of bacteriological research had heaped upon him. His companion was a
+tall, slim, fair-haired young man, about as good a specimen of the young
+Englishman turned out by the English public school as one could find. He was
+extremely good-looking with a proud eye and finely chiselled features, but the
+suggestion of youth in his face and figure was countered by a certain poise, a
+kind of latent seriousness which contrasted strangely with the general cheery
+<i>insouciance</i> of his type.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A soldier would have spotted the symptoms at once, &ldquo;Five years of
+war!&rdquo; would have been his verdict&mdash;that long and strange entry into
+life of so many thousands of England&rsquo;s manhood which impressed the stamp
+of premature seriousness on all those who came through. And Captain Sir Horace
+Trevert, Bart., D.S.O., had gone from his famous school straight into a famous
+regiment, had won his decoration before he was twenty-one, and been twice
+wounded into the bargain.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s everybody?&rdquo; queried the doctor, rubbing his hands at
+the blazing log-fire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Robin and Mary went off to play billiards,&rdquo; said the young man,
+&ldquo;and I left old Parrish after lunch settling down for an
+afternoon&rsquo;s work in the library ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He crossed the room to the fire and stood with his back to the flame.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a worker that man is!&rdquo; ejaculated the doctor. &ldquo;He had
+one of his secretaries down this morning with a car full of portfolios,
+blue-prints, specifications, and God knows what else. Parrish polished the
+whole lot off and packed the fellow back to London before mid-day. Some of
+Hornaway&rsquo;s people who were waiting went in next, and he was through with
+them by lunch-time!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Trevert wagged his head in admiration.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he told me he wanted to have a quiet week-end!&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s why he has no secretary living in the house.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A quiet week-end!&rdquo; repeated Romain drily. &ldquo;Ye gods!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s a marvel for work,&rdquo; said the young man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He certainly is,&rdquo; replied the doctor. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s done
+wonders with Hornaway&rsquo;s. When he took the place over at the beginning of
+the war, they were telling me, it was a little potty concern making toy air
+guns or lead soldiers or something of the sort. And they never stop coining
+money now, it seems. Parrish must be worth millions ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Lucky devil!&rdquo; said Trevert genially.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; observed the doctor sententiously, &ldquo;but he&rsquo;s had
+to work for it, mark you! He&rsquo;s had the most extraordinary life, they tell
+me. He was at one period of his career a bartender on the Rand, a man was
+saying at the club the other day. But most of his life he&rsquo;s lived in
+Canada, I gather. He was telling us the other evening, before you and Mary came
+down, that he was once a brakeman on the Canadian Pacific Railway. He said he
+invested all his savings in books on engineering and read them in his
+brakeman&rsquo;s van on his trips across the Dominion. Ah! he&rsquo;s a fine
+fellow!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He lowered his voice discreetly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And a devilish good match, eh, Horace?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The young man flushed slightly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said unwillingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A dam&rsquo; good match for somebody,&rdquo; urged the doctor with a
+malicious twinkle in his eye.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here, Doc,&rdquo; said Horace, suddenly turning on him, &ldquo;you stick
+to your bugs and germs. What do you know about matchmaking, anyway?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dr. Romain chuckled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We bacteriologists are trained observers. One learns a lot watching the
+life and habits of the bacillus, Horace, my boy. And between ourselves, Parrish
+would be a lucky fellow if ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Trevert turned to him. His face was quite serious, and there was a little touch
+of hauteur in his voice. He was the 17th Baronet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear Doc,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;aren&rsquo;t you going a bit fast?
+Parrish is a very good chap, but one knows nothing about him ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Sagely the doctor nodded his grizzled head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s true,&rdquo; he agreed. &ldquo;He appears to have no
+relatives and nobody over here seems to have heard of him before the war. A man
+was saying at the Athenaeum the other day ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Trevert touched his elbow. Bude had appeared, portly, imperturbable, bearing a
+silver tray set out with the appliances for tea.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bude,&rdquo; cried Trevert, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t tell me there are no
+tea-cakes again!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;On the contrairey, sir,&rdquo; answered the butler in the richly
+sonorous voice pitched a little below the normal register which he employed
+abovestairs, &ldquo;the cook has had her attention drawn to it. There are
+tea-cakes, sir!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With a certain dramatic effect&mdash;for Bude was a trifle theatrical in
+everything he did&mdash;he whipped the cover off a dish and displayed a smoking
+pile of deliciously browned scones.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bude,&rdquo; said Trevert, &ldquo;when I&rsquo;m a Field Marshal,
+I&rsquo;ll see you get the O.B.E. for this!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The butler smiled a nicely regulated three-by-one smile, a little deprecatory
+as was his wont. Then, like a tank taking a corner, he wheeled majestically and
+turned to cross the lounge. To reach the green baize door leading to the
+servants&rsquo; quarters he had to cross the outer hall from which led
+corridors on the right and left. That on the right led to the billiard-room;
+that on the left to the big drawing-room with the library beyond.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Bude reached the great screen of tooled Spanish leather which separated a
+corner of the lounge from the outer hall, Robin Greve came hastily through the
+glass door of the corridor leading from the billiard-room. The butler with a
+pleasant smile drew back a little to allow the young man to pass, thinking he
+was going into the lounge for tea.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tea is ...&rdquo; he began, but abruptly ended the sentence on catching
+sight of the young man&rsquo;s face. For Robin, habitually so self-possessed,
+looked positively haggard. His face was set and there was a weary look in his
+eyes. The young man appeared so utterly different from his wonted self that
+Bude fairly stared at him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Robin, without paying the least attention either to the butler or to the
+sound of voices in the lounge, strode across the outer hall and disappeared
+through the glass door of the corridor leading to the great drawing-room and
+the library.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude stood an instant gazing after him in perplexity, then moved across the
+hall to the servants&rsquo; quarters.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the meantime in the lounge the little doctor snapped the case of his watch
+and opined that he wanted his tea.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where on earth has everybody got to? What&rsquo;s become of Lady
+Margaret? I haven&rsquo;t seen her since lunch....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That lady answered his question by appearing in person.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lady Margaret was tall and hard and glittering. Like so many Englishwomen of
+good family, she was so saturated with the traditions of her class that her
+manner was almost indistinguishable from that of a man. Well-mannered,
+broadminded, wholly cynical, and absolutely fearless, she went through life
+exactly as though she were following a path carefully taped out for her by a
+suitably instructed Providence. Somewhere beneath the mask of smiling
+indifference she presented so bravely to a difficult world, she had a heart,
+but so carefully did she hide it that Horace had only discovered it on a
+certain grey November morning when he had started out for the first time on
+active service. For ever afterwards a certain weighing-machine at Waterloo
+Station, by which he had had a startling vision of his mother standing with
+heaving bosom and tear-stained face, possessed in his mind the attributes of
+some secret and sacred shrine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But now she was cool and well-gowned and self-contained as ever.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a perfectly dreadful day!&rdquo; she exclaimed in her pleasant,
+well-bred voice. &ldquo;Horace, you must positively go and see Henry
+What&rsquo;s-his-name in the Foreign Office and get me a passport for Cannes.
+The weather in England in the winter is incredibly exaggerated!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;At least,&rdquo; said the doctor, rubbing his back as he warmed himself
+at the fire, &ldquo;we have fuel in England. Give me England, climate and all,
+but don&rsquo;t take away my fire. The sun doesn&rsquo;t shine on the Riviera
+at night, you know!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lady Margaret busied herself at the tea-table with its fine Queen Anne silver
+and dainty yellow cups. It was the custom at Harkings to serve tea in the
+winter without other illumination than the light of the great log-fire that
+spat and leaped in the open hearth. Beyond the semi-circle of ruddy light the
+great lounge was all in darkness, and beyond that again was the absolute
+stillness of the English country on a winter&rsquo;s evening.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so with a gentle clatter of teacups and the accompaniment of pleasantly
+modulated voices they sat and chatted&mdash;Lady Margaret, who was always
+surprising in what she said, the doctor who was incredibly opinionated, and
+young Trevert, who like all of the younger generation was daringly flippant. He
+was airing his views on what he called &ldquo;Boche music&rdquo; when he broke
+off and cried:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hullo, here&rsquo;s Mary! Mary, you owe me half a crown. Bude has come
+up to scratch and there are tea-cakes after ... but, I say, what on
+earth&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl had come into the room and was standing in the centre of the lounge in
+the ruddy glow of the fire. Her face was deathly pale and she was shuddering
+violently. She held her little cambric handkerchief crushed up into a ball to
+her lips. Her eyes were fixed, almost glazed, like one who walks in a trance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She stood like that for an instant surveying the group&mdash;Lady Margaret, a
+silver tea-pot in one hand, looking at her with uplifted brows. Horace, who in
+his amazement had taken a step forward, and the doctor at his side scrutinizing
+her beneath his shaggy eyebrows.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear Mary &ldquo;&mdash;it was Lady Margaret&rsquo;s smooth and
+pleasant voice which broke the silence&mdash;&ldquo;whatever is the matter?
+Have you seen a ghost!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl swayed a little and opened her lips as if to speak. A log, crashing
+from the fire into the grate, fell upon the silence of the darkening room. It
+seemed to break the spell.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hartley!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The name came hoarsely from the girl. Everybody, except Lady Margaret, sprang
+to his feet It was the doctor who spoke first.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Mary,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you seem frightened, what ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His voice was very soothing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert made a vague gesture towards the shadows about the staircase.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There ... in the library ... he&rsquo;s got the door locked ... there
+was a shot ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then she suddenly screamed aloud.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In a stride both the doctor and her brother were by her side. But she motioned
+them away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m frightened about Hartley,&rdquo; she said in a low voice,
+&ldquo;please go at once and see what ... that shot ... and he doesn&rsquo;t
+answer!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come on, Doctor!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Horace Trevert was halfway to the big screen separating the lounge from the
+outer hall. As he passed the bell, he pressed it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Send Bude to us, Mother, when he comes, please!&rdquo; he called as he
+and the doctor hurried away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lady Margaret had risen and stood, one arm about her daughter, on the Persian
+rug spread out before the cheerful fire. So the women stood in the firelight in
+Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s house, surrounded by all the treasures which his wealth
+had bought, and listened to the footsteps clattering away through the silence.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III.<br />
+A DISCOVERY</h2>
+
+<p>
+Harkings was not a large house. Some three hundred years ago it had been a
+farm, but in the intervening years successive owners had so altered it by
+pulling down and building on, that, when it passed into the possession of
+Hartley Parrish, little else than the open fireplace in the lounge remained to
+tell of the original farm. It was a queer, rambling house of only two stories
+whose elongated shape was accentuated by the additional wing which Hartley
+Parrish had built on.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For the decoration of his country-house, Parrish had placed himself
+unreservedly in the hands of the firm entrusted with the work. Their architect
+was given <i>carte blanche</i> to produce a house of character out of the
+rather dingy, out-of-date country villa which Harkings was when Hartley
+Parrish, attracted by the view from the gardens, first discovered it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The architect had gone to his work with a zest. He had ripped up walls and
+ceilings and torn down irrational matchwood partitions, discovering some fine
+old oak wainscot and the blackened roof-beams of the original farmstead. In the
+upshot he transformed Harkings into a very fair semblance of a late Jacobean
+house, fitted with every modern convenience and extremely comfortable.
+Furnished throughout with genuine &ldquo;period&rdquo; furniture, with fine
+dark oak panelling and parquet floors, it was altogether picturesque. Neither
+within nor without, it is true, would a connoisseur have been able to give it a
+date.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But that did not worry Hartley Parrish. He loved a bargain and he had bought
+the house cheap. It was situated in beautiful country and was within easy reach
+by car of his town-house in St. James&rsquo;s Square where he lived for the
+greater part of the week. Last but not least Harkings was the casket enshrining
+a treasure, the realization of a lifelong wish. This was the library,
+Parrish&rsquo;s own room, designed by himself and furnished to his own
+individual taste.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It stood apart from the rest of the house at the end of the wing which Parrish
+had constructed. The wing consisted of a single ground floor and contained the
+drawing-room&mdash;which was scarcely ever used, as both Parrish and his guests
+preferred the more congenial surroundings of the lounge&mdash;and the library.
+A long corridor panelled in oak led off the hall to the new wing. On to this
+corridor both the drawing-room and the library gave. Halfway down the corridor
+a small passage ran off. It separated the drawing-room from the library and
+ended in a door leading into the gardens at the back of the house.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was to the new wing that Horace Trevert and Dr. Romain now hastened. They
+hurried across the hall, where the big lamp of dulled glass threw a soft yellow
+light, and entered the corridor through the heavy oak door which shut it off
+from the hall. The corridor was wrapt in silence. Halfway down, where the small
+passage ran to the garden door, the electric light was burning.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Horace Trevert ran down the corridor ahead of the doctor and was the first to
+reach the library door. He knocked sharply, then turned the handle. The door
+was locked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hartley!&rdquo; he cried and rapped again. &ldquo;Ha-a-artley! Open the
+door! It&rsquo;s me, Horace!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again he knocked and rattled the handle. Not a sound came from the locked room.
+There was an instant&rsquo;s silence. Horace and the doctor exchanged an
+interrogatory look.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+From behind the closed door came the steady ticking of a clock. The silence was
+so absolute that both men heard it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then the door at the end of the corridor was flung open and Bude appeared. He
+was running at a quick ambling trot, his heavy tread shaking the passage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh? sir,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;whatever is it? What has
+happened?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Horace spoke quickly, incisively.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Something&rsquo;s happened to Mr. Parrish, Bude,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;The door&rsquo;s locked and he doesn&rsquo;t answer. We&rsquo;ll have to
+break the door down.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s solid oak, sir,&rdquo; he began.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he raised his hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pardon me, gentlemen,&rdquo; he said, as though an idea had struck him.
+&ldquo;If we were to go out by the garden door here, we might get in through
+the window. We could break the glass if needs be!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s it!&rdquo; exclaimed Horace. &ldquo;Come on, Doctor!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He dashed down the corridor towards the little passage. The doctor laid a hand
+on Bude&rsquo;s arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One of us had better stay here,&rdquo; he said with a meaning glance at
+the closed door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The butler raised an affrighted face to his.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go with Sir Horace, Bude,&rdquo; said the doctor. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll
+stay!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Outside in the gardens of Harkings it was a raw, damp evening, pitch-black now,
+with little gusts of wind which shook the naked bushes of the rosery. The
+garden door led by a couple of shallow steps on to a gravel path which ran all
+along the back of the house. The path extended right up to the wall of the
+house. On the other side it flanked the rosery.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The glass door was banging to and fro in the night wind as Bude, his
+coat-collar turned up, hurried out into the darkness. The library, which formed
+the corner of the new wing, had two windows, the one immediately above the
+gravel path looking out over the rosery, the other round the corner of the
+house giving on the same path, beyond which ran a high hedge of clipped box
+surrounding the so-called Pleasure Ground, a plot of smooth grass with a
+sundial in the centre.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A glow of light came from the library window, and in its radiance Bude saw
+silhouetted the tall, well-knit figure of young Trevert. As the butler came up,
+the boy raised something in his hand and there was a crash of broken glass.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The curtains were drawn, but with the breaking of the window they began to flap
+about. With the iron grating he had picked up from the drain below the window
+young Trevert smashed the rest of the glass away, then thrust an arm through
+the empty window-frame, fumbling for the window-catch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The catch is not fastened,&rdquo; he whispered, and with a resolute
+thrust he pushed the window up. The curtains leapt up wildly, revealing a
+glimpse of the pleasant, book-lined room. Both men from the darkness without
+saw Parrish&rsquo;s desk littered with his papers and his habitual chair beyond
+it, pushed back empty.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Trevert turned an instant, a hand on the window-sill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bude,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;there&rsquo;s no one there!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Best look and see, sir,&rdquo; replied the butler, his coat-tails
+flapping in the wind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Trevert hoisted himself easily on to the window-sill, knelt there for an
+instant, then thrust his legs over the sill and dropped into the room. As he
+did so he stumbled, cried aloud.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then the heavy grey curtains were flung back and the butler saw the boy&rsquo;s
+face, rather white, at the open window.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My God,&rdquo; he said slowly, &ldquo;he&rsquo;s dead!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A moment later Dr. Romain, waiting in the corridor, heard the key turn in the
+lock of the library door. The door was flung open. Horace Trevert stood there,
+silhouetted in a dull glow of light from the room. He was pointing to the open
+window, beneath which Hartley Parrish lay on his back motionless.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br />
+BETWEEN THE DESK AND THE WINDOW</h2>
+
+<p>
+Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s library was a splendid room, square in shape, lofty and
+well proportioned. It was lined with books arranged in shelves of dark brown
+oak running round the four walls, but sunk level with them and reaching up to a
+broad band of perfectly plain white plasterwork.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was a cheerful, comfortable, eminently modern room, half library, half
+office. The oak was solid, but uncompromisingly new. The great leather
+armchairs were designed on modern lines&mdash;for comfort rather than for
+appearance. There were no pictures; but vases of chrysanthemums stood here and
+there about the room. A dictaphone in a case was in a corner, but beside it was
+a little table on which were set out some rare bits of old Chelsea. There was
+also a gramophone, but it was enclosed in a superb case of genuine old
+black-and-gold lacquer. The very books in their shelves carried on this
+contrast of business with recreation. For while one set of shelves contained
+row upon row of technical works, company reports, and all manner of business
+reference books bound in leather, on another were to be found the vellum-bound
+volumes of the Kelmscott Press.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A sober note of grey or mole colour was the colour scheme of the room. The
+heavy pile carpet which stretched right up to the walls was of this quiet
+neutral shade: so were the easy-chairs, and the colour of the heavy curtains,
+which hung in front of the two high windows, was in harmony with the restful
+decorative scheme of the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The massive oaken door stood opposite the window overlooking the
+rosery&mdash;the window through which Horace Trevert had entered.
+Parrish&rsquo;s desk was in front of this window, between it and the door in
+consequence. By the other window, which, as has been stated, looked out on the
+clipped hedge surrounding the Pleasure Ground, was the little table with the
+Chelsea china, the dictaphone, and one of the easy-chairs. The centre of the
+room was clear so that nothing lay between the door and the carved mahogany
+chair at the desk. Here, as they all knew, Parrish was accustomed to sit when
+working, his back to the door, his face to the window overlooking the rosery.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The desk stood about ten feet from the window. On it was a large brass lamp
+which cast a brilliant circle of light upon the broad flat top of the desk with
+its orderly array of letter-trays, its handsome silver-edged blotter and silver
+and tortoise-shell writing appurtenances. By the light of this lamp Dr. Romain,
+looking from the doorway, saw that Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s chair was vacant,
+pushed back a little way from the desk. The rest of the room was wrapt in
+unrevealing half-light.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s there by the window!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Horace was whispering to the doctor. Romain strode over to the desk and picked
+up the lamp. As he did so, his eyes fell upon the pale face of Hartley Parrish.
+He lay on his back in the space between the desk and the window. His head was
+flung back, his eyes, bluish-grey,&mdash;the narrow, rather expressionless eyes
+of the successful business man,&mdash;were wide open and fixed in a sightless
+stare, his rather full mouth, with its clean-shaven lips, was rigid and stern.
+With the broad forehead, the prominent brows, the bold, aggressive nose, and
+the square bony jaw, it was a fighter&rsquo;s face, a fine face save for the
+evil promise of that sensuous mouth. So thought the doctor with the swift
+psychological process of his trade.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+From the face his gaze travelled to the body. And then Romain could not repress
+an involuntary start, albeit he saw what he had half expected to see. The
+fleshy right hand of Hartley Parrish grasped convulsively an automatic pistol.
+His clutching index finger was crooked about the trigger and the barrel was
+pressed into the yielding pile of the carpet. His other hand with clawing
+fingers was flung out away from the body on the other side. One leg was
+stretched out to its fullest extent and the foot just touched the hem of the
+grey window curtains. The other leg was slightly drawn up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The doctor raised the lamp from the desk and, dropping on one knee, placed it
+on the ground beside the body. With gentle fingers he manipulated the eyes,
+opened the blue serge coat and waistcoat which Parrish was wearing. As he
+unbuttoned the waistcoat, he laid bare a dark red stain on the breast of the
+fine silk shirt. He opened shirt and under-vest, bent an ear to the still form,
+and then, with a little helpless gesture, rose to his feet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dead?&rdquo; queried Trevert.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Romain nodded shortly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shot through the heart!&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He looked so ... so limp,&rdquo; the boy said, shrinking back a little,
+&ldquo;I thought he was dead. But I never thought old Hartley would have done a
+thing like that ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The doctor pursed up his lips as if to speak. But he remained silent for a
+moment. Then he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Horace, the police must be informed. We can do that on the telephone.
+This room must be left just as it is until they come. I can do nothing more for
+poor Hartley. And we shall have to tell the others. I&rsquo;d better do that
+myself. I wonder where Greve is? I haven&rsquo;t seen him all the afternoon. As
+a barrister he should be able to advise us about&mdash;er, the technicalities:
+the police and all that ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Rapid footsteps reverberated down the corridor. Robin Greve appeared at the
+door. The fat and frightened face of Bude appeared over his shoulder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good God, Doctor!&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;what&rsquo;s this Bude tells
+me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The doctor cleared his throat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Our poor friend is dead, Greve,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But how? How?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Greve stood opposite the doctor in the centre of the library. He had switched
+on the light at the door as he had come in, and the room was flooded with soft
+light thrown by concealed lamps set around the cornice of the ceiling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look!&rdquo; responded the doctor by way of answer and stepped aside to
+let the young man come up to the desk. &ldquo;He has a pistol in his
+hand!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin Greve took a step forward and stopped dead. He gazed for an instant
+without speaking on the dead face of his host and rival.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Suicide!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was an affirmation rather than a question, and the little doctor took it up.
+He was not a young man and the shock and the excitement were beginning to tell
+on his nerves.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am not a police surgeon,&rdquo; he said with some asperity; &ldquo;in
+fact, I may say I have not seen a dead body since my hospital days. I ... I ...
+know nothing about these things. This is a matter for the police. They must be
+summoned at once. Where&rsquo;s Bude?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin Greve turned quickly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Get on to the police station at Stevenish at once, Bude,&rdquo; he
+ordered. &ldquo;Do you know the Inspector?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yessir,&rdquo; the butler answered in a hollow voice. His hands were
+trembling violently, and he seemed to control himself with difficulty.
+&ldquo;Mr. Humphries, sir!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, ring him up and tell him that Mr. Parrish ... Hullo, what do all
+these people want?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a commotion at the door. Frightened faces were framed in the doorway.
+Outside there was the sound of a woman whimpering. A tall, dark young man in a
+tail coat came in quickly. He stopped short when he saw the solemn faces of the
+group at the desk. It was Parrish&rsquo;s man, Jay. He stepped forward to the
+desk and in a frightened sort of way peered at the body as it lay on the floor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, sir,&rdquo; he said breathlessly, addressing Greve, &ldquo;what ever
+has happened to Mr. Parrish? It can&rsquo;t be true ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Greve put his hand on the young man&rsquo;s shoulder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry to say it is true, Jay,&rdquo; he answered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was very good to us all,&rdquo; the valet replied in a broken voice.
+He remained by the desk staring at the body in a dazed fashion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who is that crying outside?&rdquo; Greve demanded. &ldquo;This is no
+place for women ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s Mrs. Heever, the housekeeper,&rdquo; Bude answered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, she must go back to her room. Send all those servants away. Jay,
+will you see to it? And take care that Lady Margaret and Miss Trevert
+don&rsquo;t come in here, either.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sir Horace is with them, sir, in the lounge,&rdquo; said Jay and went
+out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go to them. I think I&rsquo;d better,&rdquo; exclaimed the
+doctor. &ldquo;I shall be in the lounge when they want me. A dreadful affair!
+Dreadful!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little doctor bustled out, leaving Greve and the butler alone in the room
+with the mortal remains of Hartley Parrish lying where he had fallen on the
+soft grey carpet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, Bude,&rdquo; said Greve incisively, &ldquo;get on to the police at
+once. You&rsquo;d better telephone from the servant&rsquo;s hall. I&rsquo;ll
+have a look round here in the meantime!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude stood for an instant irresolute. He glanced shrewdly at the young man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; said Robin quickly; &ldquo;what are you waiting for, man?
+There&rsquo;s no time to lose.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Slowly the butler turned and tiptoed away, his ungainly body swaying about as
+he stole across the heavy pile carpet. He went out of the room, closing the
+door softly behind him. He left Greve sunk in a reverie at the desk, gazing
+with unseeing eyes upon the dead face of the master of Harkings.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That sprawling corpse, the startled realization of death stamped for ever in
+the wide, staring eyes, was indeed a subject for meditation. There, in the
+midst of all the evidences of Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s meteoric rise to
+affluence and power, Greve pondered for an instant on the strange pranks which
+Fate plays us poor mortals.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Parrish had risen, as Greve and all the world knew, from the bottom rung of the
+ladder. He had had a bitter fight for existence, had made his money, as Greve
+had heard, with a blind and ruthless determination which spoke of the stern
+struggle of other days. And Robin, who, too, had had his own way to make in the
+world, knew how the memory of earlier struggles went to sweeten the flavour of
+ultimate success.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet here was Hartley Parrish, with his vast financial undertakings, his soaring
+political ambitions, his social aims which, Robin realized bitterly, had more
+than a little to do with his project for marrying Mary Trevert, stricken down
+suddenly, without warning, in the very heyday of success.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why should he have done it?&rdquo; he whispered to himself, &ldquo;why,
+my God, why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the mask-like face at his feet, as he bent to scan it once more, gave no
+answer to the riddle. Determination, ambition, was portrayed on the keen, eager
+face even in death.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With a little hopeless gesture the young barrister glanced round the room. His
+eye fell upon the desk. He saw a neat array of letter-trays, costly silver and
+tortoise-shell writing appointments, a couple of heavy gold fountain pens, and
+an orderly collection of pencils. Lying flat on the great silver-edged blotter
+was a long brown envelope which had been opened. Propped up against the large
+crystal ink-well was a letter addressed simply &ldquo;Miss Mary Trevert&rdquo;
+in Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s big, vigorous, and sprawling handwriting.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The letter to Mary Trevert, Robin did not touch. But he picked up the long
+brown envelope. On the back it bore a printed seal. The envelope contained a
+document and a letter. At the sight of it the young man started. It was Hartley
+Parrish&rsquo;s will. The letter was merely a covering note from Mr. Bardy, of
+the firm of Jerringham, Bardy and Company, a well-known firm of solicitors,
+dated the previous evening. Robin replaced letter and document in their
+envelope without reading them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So that&rsquo;s it!&rdquo; he murmured to himself. &ldquo;Suicide? But
+why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All the letter-trays save one were empty. In this was a little heap of papers
+and letters. Robin glanced through them. There were two or three prospectuses,
+a notice of a golf match, a couple of notes from West End tradesmen enclosing
+receipts and an acknowledgement from the bank. There was only one personal
+letter&mdash;a business communication from a Rotterdam firm. Robin glanced at
+the letter. It was typewritten on paper of a dark slatey-blue shade. It was
+headed, &ldquo;ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK &amp; Co., GENERAL IMPORTERS,
+ROTTERDAM,&rdquo; and dealt with steel shipments.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin dropped the letter back into the tray and turned to survey the room. It
+was in perfect order. Except for the still form lying on the floor and the
+broken pane of glass in the window, there was nothing to tell of the tragedy
+which had been enacted there that afternoon. There were no papers to hint at a
+crisis save the prosaic-looking envelope containing the will, and
+Parrish&rsquo;s note for Mary. The waste-paper basket, a large and
+business-like affair in white wicker, had been cleared.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin walked across to the fireplace. The flames leapt eagerly about a great
+oak log which hissed fitfully on top of the glowing coals contained in the big
+iron fire-basket. The grate was bare and tidy. As the young man looked at the
+fire, a little whirl of blue smoke whisked out of the wide fireplace and eddied
+into the room. Robin sniffed. The room smelt smoky. Now he remembered he had
+noticed it as he came in.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He stood an instant gazing thoughtfully at the blazing and leaping fire. He
+threw a quick glance at the window where the curtains tossed fitfully in the
+breeze coming through the broken pane. Suddenly he stepped quickly across the
+room and, lifting the reading-lamp from the table, bore it over to the window
+which he scrutinized narrowly by its light. Then he dropped on one knee beside
+the dead body, placing the lamp on the floor beside him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He lifted the dead man&rsquo;s left hand and narrowly examined the nails.
+Without touching the right hand which clasped the revolver, he studied its
+nails too. He rose and took the gold-mounted reading-glass from the desk and
+scrutinized the nails of both hands through the glass.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he rose to his feet again and, having replaced lamp and reading-glass on
+the desk, stood there thoughtfully, his brown hands clasped before him. His
+eyes wandered from the desk to the window and from the window to the corpse.
+Then he noticed on the carpet between the dead body and the desk a little ball
+of slatey-blue paper. He bent down and picked it up. He had begun to unroll it
+when the library door was flung open. Robin thrust the scrap of paper in his
+pocket and turned to face the door.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V.<br />
+IN WHICH BUDE LOOKS AT ROBIN GREVE</h2>
+
+<p>
+The library door opened. A large, square-built, florid man in the braided
+uniform of a police inspector stood on the threshold of the room. Beside him
+was Bude who, with an air of dignity and respectful mourning suitably blended,
+waved him into the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The&mdash;ahem!&mdash;body is in here, Mr. Humphries, sir!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Inspector Humphries stepped quickly into the room. A little countryfied in
+appearance and accent, he had the careful politeness, the measured restraint,
+and the shrewd eye of the typical police officer. In thirty years&rsquo;
+service he had risen from village constable to be Inspector of county police.
+Slow to anger, rather stolid, and with an excellent heart, he had a vein of
+shrewd common sense not uncommonly found in that fast disappearing species, the
+English peasant.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He nodded shortly to Greve, and with a tread that shook the room strode across
+to where Hartley Parrish was lying dead. In the meantime a harassed-looking man
+with a short grey beard, wearing a shabby frock coat, had slipped into the room
+behind the Inspector. He approached Greve.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dr. Romain?&rdquo; he queried, peering through his gold spectacles,
+&ldquo;the butler said ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, my name is Greve,&rdquo; answered Robin. &ldquo;I am staying in the
+house. This is Dr. Romain.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He motioned to the door. Dr. Romain came bustling into the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Glad to see you here so promptly, Inspector,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;A
+shocking business, very. Is this the doctor? I am Dr. Romain ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dr. Redstone bowed with alacrity.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A great privilege, sir,&rdquo; he said staidly. &ldquo;I have followed
+your work....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the other did not let him finish.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shot through the heart ... instantaneous death ... severe haemorrhage
+... the pistol is there ... in his hand. A man with everything he wanted in the
+world ... I can&rsquo;t understand it. &rsquo;Pon my soul, I
+can&rsquo;t!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Inspector, who had been kneeling by the corpse, motioned with his head to
+the village doctor. Dr. Redstone went to him and began a cursory examination of
+the body. The Inspector rose.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I understand from the butler, gentlemen,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that it
+was Miss Trevert, a lady staying in the house, who heard the shot fired. I
+should like to see her, please. And you, sir, are you a relation of ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Greve, thus addressed, hastily replied.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Only a friend, Inspector. I am staying in the house. I am a barrister.
+Perhaps I may be able to assist you ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Humphries shot a slow, shrewd glance at him from beneath his shaggy blond
+eyebrows.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you, sir, much obliged, I&rsquo;m sure. Now&rdquo;&mdash;he thrust
+a hand into his tunic and produced a large leather-bound
+notebook&mdash;&ldquo;do you know anything as would throw a light on this
+business?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Greve shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He seemed perfectly cheerful at lunch. He left the dining-room directly
+after he had taken his coffee.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where did he go?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He came here to work. He told us at lunch that he was going to shut
+himself up in the library for the whole afternoon as he had a lot of work to
+get through.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Inspector made a note or two in his book. Then he paused thoughtfully
+tapping the end of his pencil against his teeth.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was Miss Trevert, you say, who found the body?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; Greve replied. &ldquo;Her brother, Sir Horace Trevert. It was
+Miss Trevert who heard the shot fired.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The door was locked, I think?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;On the inside. But here is Sir Horace Trevert. He will tell you how he
+got through the window and discovered the body.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Horace Trevert gave a brief account of his entry into the library. Again the
+Inspector scribbled in his notebook.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One or two more questions, gentlemen, please,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and
+then I should wish to see Miss Trevert. Firstly, who saw Mr. Hartley Parrish
+last: and at what time?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Horace Trevert looked at Greve.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would be when he left us after lunch, wouldn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; he
+said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Certainly, certainly,&rdquo; Dr. Romain broke in. &ldquo;He left us all
+together in the dining-room, you, Horace and Robin and Lady Margaret and Mary
+... Miss Trevert and her mother, you know,&rdquo; he added by way of
+explanation to the Inspector.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he went straight to the library?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Straight away, Mr. Humphries, sir,&rdquo; broke in Bude. &ldquo;Mr.
+Parrish crossed me in the hall and gave me particular instructions that he was
+not to be disturbed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was at what time?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;About two-thirty, sir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you were the last person to see him before ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, no ... that is, unless ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The butler hesitated, casting a quick glance round his audience.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; rapped out the Inspector, looking up from his
+notebook. &ldquo;Did anybody else see Mr. Parrish in spite of his
+orders?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude was silent. He was looking at Greve.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come on,&rdquo; said Humphries sternly. &ldquo;You heard my question?
+What makes you think anybody else had access to Mr. Parrish before the shot was
+heard?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude made a little resigned gesture of the hands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir, I thought ... I made sure that Mr. Greve ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a moment&rsquo;s tense silence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; snapped Humphries.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was going to say I made certain that Mr. Greve was going to Mr.
+Parrish in the library to tell him tea was ready. Mr. Greve passed me in the
+hall and went down the library corridor just after I had served the tea.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All eyes turned to Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s perfectly true,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I went out into the
+gardens for a mouthful of fresh air just before tea. I left the house by the
+side door off the corridor here. I didn&rsquo;t go to the library, though. It
+is an understood thing in this house that no one ever disturbs Mr. Parrish when
+he ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He broke off sharply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My God, Mary,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;you mustn&rsquo;t come in
+here!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All turned round at his loud exclamation. Mary Trevert stood in the doorway.
+Dr. Romain darted forward.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; he said soothingly, &ldquo;you mustn&rsquo;t be here
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Passively she let him lead her into the corridor. The Inspector continued his
+examination.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;At what time did you come along this corridor, sir?&rdquo; he asked
+Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was not long after the tea gong went,&rdquo; answered Robin,
+&ldquo;about ten minutes past five, I should say ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you heard nothing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Absolutely nothing,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;The corridor was perfectly
+quiet. I stepped out into the grounds, went for a turn round the house, but it
+was raining, so I came in almost at once.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;At what time was that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When I came in ... oh, about two or three minutes later, say about a
+quarter past five.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Humphries turned to Horace Trevert.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What time was it when Miss Trevert heard the shot?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Horace puckered up his brow.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t quite know. We were having
+tea. It wasn&rsquo;t much after five&mdash;I should say about a quarter
+past.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then the shot that Miss Trevert heard would have been fired just about
+the time that you, sir,&rdquo; he turned to Robin, &ldquo;were coming in from
+your stroll.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Somewhere about that time, I should say!&rdquo; Robin answered rather
+thoughtfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you hear it?&rdquo; queried the Inspector.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But surely you must have been at or near the side door at the time as
+you were coming in ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I came in by the front door,&rdquo; said Robin, &ldquo;on the other side
+of the house ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Very carefully the Inspector closed his notebook, thrust the pencil back in its
+place along the back, fastened the elastic about the book, and turned to Horace
+Trevert.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And now, sir, if I might speak to Miss Trevert alone for a minute
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, though,&rdquo; expostulated Horace, &ldquo;my sister&rsquo;s
+awfully upset, you know. Is it absolutely necessary?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Aye, sir, it is!&rdquo; said the Inspector. &ldquo;But there&rsquo;s no
+need for me to see her in here. Perhaps in some other room ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The drawing-room is next to this,&rdquo; the butler put in;
+&ldquo;they&rsquo;d be nice and quiet in there, Sir Horace.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Inspector acquiesced. Dr. Redstone drew him aside for a whispered colloquy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Inspector came back to Robin and Horace.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The doctor would like to have the body taken upstairs to Mr.
+Parrish&rsquo;s room,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;He wishes to make a more detailed
+examination if Dr. Romain would help him. If one of you gentlemen could give
+orders about this ... I have two officers outside who would lend a hand. And
+this room must then be shut and locked. Sergeant Harris!&rdquo; he called.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sir!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A stout sergeant appeared at the library door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As soon as the body has been removed, you will lock the room and bring
+the key to me. And you will return here and see that no one attempts to get
+into the room. Understand?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yessir!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Inspector!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin Greve called Inspector Humphries as the latter was preparing to follow
+Bude to the drawing-room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Parrish seems to have written a note for Miss Trevert,&rdquo; he
+said, pointing at the desk. &ldquo;And in that envelope you will find Mr.
+Parrish&rsquo;s will. I discovered it there on the desk just before you
+arrived!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again the Inspector shot one of his swift glances at the young man. He went
+over to the desk, shook the document and letter from their envelope, glanced at
+them, and replaced them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t rightly know that this concerns me, gentlemen,&rdquo; he
+said slowly. &ldquo;I think I&rsquo;ll just take charge of it. And I&rsquo;ll
+give Miss Trevert her letter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Taking the two envelopes, he tramped heavily out of the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then in a little while Bude and Jay and two bucolic-looking policemen came to
+the library to move the body of the master of Harkings. Robin stood by and
+watched the little procession pass slowly with silent feet across the soft pile
+carpet and out into the corridor. But his thoughts were not with Parrish. He
+was haunted by the look which Mary Trevert had given him as she had stood for
+an instant at the library door, a look of fear, of suspicion. And it made his
+heart ache.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br />
+THE LETTER</h2>
+
+<p>
+The great drawing-room of Harkings was ablaze with light. The cluster of lights
+in the heavy crystal chandelier and the green-shaded electric lamps in their
+gilt sconces on the plain white-panelled walls coldly lit up the formal,
+little-used room with its gilt furniture, painted piano, and huge marble
+fireplace.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This glittering Louis Seize environment seemed altogether too much for the
+homely Inspector. Whilst waiting for Mary Trevert to come to him, he tried
+several attitudes in turn. The empty hearth frightened him away from the
+mantelpiece, the fragile appearance of a gilt settee decided him against
+risking his sixteen stone weight on its silken cushions, and the vastness of
+the room overawed him when he took up his position in the centre of the
+Aubusson carpet. Finally he selected an ornate chair, rather more solid-looking
+than the rest, which he drew up to a small table on the far side of the room.
+There he sat down, his large red hands spread out upon his knees in an attitude
+of singular embarrassment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Mary Trevert set him quickly at his ease when presently she came to him.
+She was pale, but quite self-possessed. Indeed, the effort she had made to
+regain her self-control was so marked that it would have scarcely escaped the
+attention of the Inspector, even if he had not had a brief vision of her as she
+had stood for that instant at the library door, pale, distraught, and
+trembling. He was astonished to find her cool, collected, almost business-like
+in the way she sat down, motioned him to his seat, and expressed her readiness
+to tell him all she knew.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The phrases he had been laboriously preparing&mdash;&ldquo;This has been a bad
+shock for you, ma&rsquo;am&rdquo;; &ldquo;You will forgive me, I&rsquo;m sure,
+ma&rsquo;am, for calling upon you at a moment such as this&rdquo;&mdash;died
+away on his lips as Mary Trevert said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ask me any questions you wish, Inspector. I will tell you everything I
+can.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s very good of you, ma&rsquo;am, I&rsquo;m sure,&rdquo;
+answered the Inspector, unstrapping his notebook, &ldquo;and I&rsquo;ll try and
+not detain you long. Now, then, tell me what you know of this sad affair
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert plucked an instant nervously at her little cambric handerchief in
+her lap. Then she said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I went to the library from the billiard-room ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A moment,&rdquo; interposed the Inspector. &ldquo;What time was
+that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A little after five. The tea gong had gone some time. I was going to the
+library to tell Mr. Parrish that tea was ready ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Humphries made a note. He nodded to show he was listening.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I crossed the hall and went down the library corridor. I knocked on the
+library door. There was no reply. Then I heard a shot and a sort of
+thud.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Despite her effort to remain calm, the girl&rsquo;s voice shook a little. She
+made a little helpless gesture of her hands. A diamond ring she was wearing on
+her finger caught the light and blazed for an instant.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I got frightened. I ran back along the corridor to the lounge where
+the others were and told them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When you knocked at the door, you say there was no reply. I suppose,
+now, you tried the handle first.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then Mr. Parrish would have heard the two sounds? The turning of the
+handle and then the knocking on the door? That&rsquo;s so, isn&rsquo;t
+it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I suppose so ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yet you say there was no reply?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. None at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Inspector jotted a word or two in his notebook as it lay open flat upon the
+table.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The shot, then, was fired immediately after you had knocked? Not while
+you were knocking?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I knocked and waited, expecting Mr. Parrish to answer. Instead of
+him answering, there came this shot ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see. And after the shot was fired there was a crash?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A sort of thud&mdash;like something heavy falling down.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you heard no groan or cry?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl knit her brows for a moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I ... I ... was frightened by the shot. I ... I ... don&rsquo;t seem
+able to remember what happened afterwards. Let me think ... let me think
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There, there,&rdquo; said the Inspector paternally, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t
+upset yourself like this. Just try and think what happened after you heard the
+shot fired ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert shuddered, one slim white hand pressed against her cheek.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do remember now,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;there <i>was</i> a cry. It
+was more like a sharp exclamation ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And then you heard this crash?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl had somewhat regained her self-possession. She dabbed her eyes with
+her handkerchief quickly as though ashamed of her weakness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Humphries, clearing his throat, as though to indicate
+that the conversation had changed, &ldquo;you and Lady Margaret Trevert knew
+Mr. Parrish pretty well, I believe, Miss Trevert. Have you any idea why he
+should have done this thing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert shook her dark head rather wearily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is inconceivable to me ... to all of us,&rdquo; she answered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you happen to know whether Mr. Parrish had any business
+worries?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He always had a great deal of business on hand and he has had a great
+deal to do lately over some big deal.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What was it, do you know?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was raising fresh capital for Hornaway&rsquo;s&mdash;that is the big
+engineering firm he controls ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know if he was pleased with the way things were shaping?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes. He told me last night that everything would be finished this
+week. He seemed quite satisfied.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Inspector paused to make a note.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he thrust a hand into the side-pocket of his tunic and produced Hartley
+Parrish&rsquo;s letter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This,&rdquo; he said, eyeing the girl as he handed her the letter,
+&ldquo;may throw some light on the affair!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Open-eyed, a little surprised, she took the plain white envelope from his hand
+and gazed an instant without speaking, on the bold sprawling address&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<i>&ldquo;Miss Mary Trevert.&rdquo;</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Open it, please,&rdquo; said the Inspector gently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl tore open the envelope. Humphries saw her eyes fill, watched the
+emotion grip her and shake her in her self-control so that she could not speak
+when, her reading done, she gave him back the letter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Without asking her permission, he took the sheet of fine, expensive paper with
+its neat engraved heading and postal directions, and read Hartley
+Parrish&rsquo;s last message.
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+My dear [it ran], I signed my will at Bardy&rsquo;s office yesterday, and he
+sent it back to me to-day. Just this line to let you know you are properly
+provided for should anything happen to me. I wanted to fix things so that you
+and Lady Margaret would not have to worry any more. I just had to <i>write</i>.
+I guess you understand why.
+</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+H.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a long and impressive silence while the Inspector deliberately read
+the note. Then he looked interrogatively at the girl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We were engaged, Inspector,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We were to have been
+married very soon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A deep flush crept slowly over Mr. Humphries&rsquo;s florid face and spread
+into the roots of his tawny fair hair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what does he mean by &lsquo;having to write&rsquo;?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl replied hastily, her eyes on the ground.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Parrish was under the impression that ... that ... without his money
+I should not have cared for him. That is what he means ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You knew he had provided for you in his will?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He told me several times that he intended to leave me everything. You
+see, he has no relatives!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see!&rdquo; said the Inspector in a reflective voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Had he any enemies, do you know? Anybody who would drive him to a thing
+like this?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl shook her head vehemently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The monosyllable came out emphatically. Again the Inspector darted one of his
+quick, shrewd glances at the girl. She met his scrutiny with her habitual
+serene and candid gaze. The Inspector dropped his eyes and scribbled in his
+book.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was his health good?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He smoked far too much,&rdquo; the girl said, &ldquo;and it made him
+rather nervy. But otherwise he never had a day&rsquo;s illness in his
+life.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Humphries ran his eye over the notes he had made.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is just one more question I should like to ask you, Miss
+Trevert,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;rather a personal question.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert&rsquo;s hands twisted the cambric handkerchief into a little ball
+and slowly unwound it again. But her face remained quite calm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;About your engagement to Mr. Parrish ... when did it take place?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some days ago. It has not yet been announced.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Inspector coughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was only wondering whether, perhaps, Mr. Parrish was not quite ...
+whether he was, maybe, a little disturbed in his mind about the engagement
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl hesitated. Then she said firmly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Parrish was perfectly happy about it. He was looking forward to our
+being married in the spring.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Humphries shut his notebook with a snap and rose to his feet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you very much, ma&rsquo;am,&rdquo; he said with a little formal
+bow. &ldquo;If you will excuse me now. I have the doctor to see again and
+there&rsquo;s the Coroner to be warned ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He bowed again and tramped towards the door with a tread that made the
+chandelier tinkle melodiously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The door closed behind him and his heavy footsteps died away along the
+corridor. Mary Trevert had risen to her feet calm and impassive. But when he
+had gone, her bosom began to heave and a spasm of pain shot across her face.
+Again the tears welled up in her eyes, brimmed over and stole down her cheeks.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I only <i>knew!</i>&rdquo; she sobbed, &ldquo;if I only
+<i>knew!</i>&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br />
+VOICES IN THE LIBRARY</h2>
+
+<p>
+The swift tragedy of the winter afternoon had convulsed the well-organized
+repose of Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s household. Nowhere had his master grasp of
+detail been seen to better advantage than in the management of his country
+home. Overwhelmed with work though he constantly was, accustomed to carry his
+business and often part of his business staff to Harkings with him for the
+week-ends, there was never the least confusion about the house. The methodical
+calm of Harkings was that of a convent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hartley Parrish was wont to say that he paid his butler and housekeeper well to
+save himself from worry. It was rather to ensure his orders being punctiliously
+and promptly carried out. His was the mind behind the method which ensured that
+meals were punctually served and trains at Stevenish Station never missed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But it was into a house in turmoil that Mary Trevert stepped when she left the
+drawing-room and passed along the corridor to go to her room. Doors slammed and
+there was the heavy thud of footsteps on the floor above. The glass door
+leading into the gardens was open, as Mary passed it, swinging in the gusts of
+cold rain. In the gardens without there was a confused murmur of voices and the
+flash of lanterns.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the hall a knot of servants were gossiping in frightened whispers with a
+couple of large, rather bovine country constables who, bareheaded, without
+their helmets, which they held under their arms, looked curiously undressed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The whispers died away as Mary crossed the hall. All eyes followed her with
+interest as she went. It was as though an echo of her talk with the Inspector
+had by some occult means already spread through the little household. Through
+the half-open green baize door leading to the servants&rsquo; quarters some
+unseen person was bawling down the telephone in a heated controversy with the
+exchange about a long-distance call to London. And but an hour since, the girl
+reflected sadly, as she mounted the oaken staircase, the house had been wrapt
+in its wonted evening silence in response to that firm and dominating
+personality who had passed out in the gloom of the winter twilight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When, about six months before, Mary and her mother had begun to be regular
+visitors at Harkings, Hartley Parrish had insisted on giving Mary a boudoir to
+herself. This, in response to a chance remark of Mary&rsquo;s in admiration of
+a Chinese room she had seen at a friend&rsquo;s house, Parrish had had
+decorated in the Chinese style with black walls and black-and-gold lacquer
+furniture. The room had been transformed from a rather prosaic morning-room
+with old oak and chintz in the space of three days as a surprise for Mary. She
+remembered now how Parrish had left her to make the discovery of the change for
+herself. She loved colour and line, and the contrast between this quaint and
+delightful room with her rather shabby bedroom in her mother&rsquo;s small
+house in Brompton had made this surprise one of the most delightful she had
+ever experienced.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She rang the bell and sat down listlessly in a charmingly lacquered Louis Seize
+armchair in front of the log-fire blazing brightly in the fireplace. She was
+conscious that a great disaster had overtaken her, but only dimly conscious.
+For more poignantly than this dull sense of tragedy she was aware of a great
+aching at her heart, and her thoughts, after hovering over the events of the
+afternoon, settled down upon her talk that afternoon ... already how far off it
+seemed ... with Robin Greve in the library.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin had always been her hero. She could see him now in the glow of the fire
+as he had been when in the holidays he had come and snatched her away from a
+home already drab and difficult for a matinée and an orgy of cream cakes at
+Gunter&rsquo;s afterwards. He was then a long, slim, handsome boy of
+irrepressible spirits and impulsive generosity which usually left him, after
+the first few days of his holidays, in a state of lamentable impecuniosity. All
+their lives, it seemed to her, they had been friends, but with no stronger
+feeling between them until Robin, having joined the Army on the outbreak of
+war, had come to say good-bye on being ordered to France.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But by that time money troubles at home with which, as it seemed to her, she
+had been surrounded all her life, had grown so pressing that, apart from Lady
+Margaret&rsquo;s reiterated counsels, she herself had come to recognize that a
+suitable marriage was the only way out of their ever-increasing embarrassment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She and Robin, she recalled with a feeling of relief, had never discussed the
+matter. He, too, had understood and had sailed for France without seeking to
+take advantage of the circumstance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Outside in the black night a car throbbed. Footsteps crunched the gravel
+beneath her window. The sounds brought her back to the present with a sudden
+pang. She began to think of Hartley Parrish. All her life she had been so very
+poor that, until she had met this big, vigorous, intensely vital man, she had
+never known what a lavish command of money meant. Hartley Parrish did things in
+a big way. If he wanted a thing he bought it, as he had bought Bude, as he had
+bought a car he had seen standing outside a Pall Mall club and admired. He had
+rooted the owner out, bade him name his price, and had paid it, there and then,
+by cheque, and driven Mary off to a lawn tennis tournament at Queen&rsquo;s,
+hugely delighted by her bewilderment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She did not love him. She could never have learnt to love him. There was a
+gleeful zest in his enjoyment of his money, an ostentatious parade of his
+riches which repelled her. And there was a look in his face, those narrow eyes,
+that hard mouth, which revealed to her womanly intuition a ruthlessness which
+she guessed he kept for his business. But she liked him, especially his
+reverent and chivalrous devotion to her, and the thought that his dominating
+and vital personality was extinguished for ever made her conscious of a great
+void in her life.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And now she was rich. Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s idea of &ldquo;proper
+provision&rdquo; for her, she knew, meant wealth for her beyond anything she
+had ever dreamed. The perpetual debasing struggle with poverty which she and
+her mother had carried on for years was a thing of the past. Money meant
+freedom, freedom to live ... and to love.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She stretched her hands out to the blaze. Was she free to love? What had driven
+Hartley Parrish to suicide? Or who? She went over in her mind her interview
+with Robin Greve in the billiard-room. He had spoken of other women in
+connection with Hartley Parrish. Had he used that knowledge to threaten his
+rival? What had Robin done after he had left her that afternoon with his final
+taunt?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She felt the blood rise to her cheeks as she thought of it. Mary Trevert had
+all the pride of her ancient race. The recollection of that taunt galled her.
+Her loyalty to the man from whom she had received nothing but chivalry, whose
+fortune was to banish a hideous nightmare from her life, rose up in arms. What
+had Robin done? She must know the truth ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A tap came at the door. Bude appeared.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think you rang, Miss,&rdquo; he said in his quiet, deep voice.
+&ldquo;I was with the Inspector, Miss, and I couldn&rsquo;t come before. Was
+there anything?...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl turned in her chair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come in and shut the door, Bude,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I want to speak
+to you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The butler obeyed and came over to where she sat. He seemed ill at ease and
+rather apprehensive.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bude,&rdquo; said the girl, &ldquo;I want you to tell me why you were
+certain that Mr. Greve was going to Mr. Parrish in the library when he passed
+you in the hall this afternoon!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The butler smoothed his hands down his trousers in embarrassment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought he ... Mr. Greve ... would be sure to be going to fetch Mr.
+Parrish in to tea, Miss ...&rdquo; he replied, eyeing the girl anxiously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert continued gazing into the fire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know it is a rule in this house, Bude,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;that
+Mr. Parrish is never disturbed in the library ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The butler changed his position uneasily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Miss, but I thought ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Slowly Mary Trevert turned and looked at the man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bude,&rdquo;&mdash;her voice was very calm,&mdash;&ldquo;I want you to
+tell me the truth. You know that Mr. Greve went in to Mr. Parrish ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude looked uneasily about him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Miss,&rdquo; he answered, almost in a whisper, &ldquo;whatever are
+you saying?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want your answer, Bude,&rdquo; the girl said coldly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude did not speak. He rubbed his hands up and down his trousers in
+desperation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish to know why Mr. Parrish did this thing, Bude. I mean to know. And
+I think you are keeping something back!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The challenge resounded clearly, firmly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Trevert, ma&rsquo;am,&rdquo; the butler said in a low voice,
+&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t take it upon me to say anything as would get anybody in
+this house into trouble....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You saw Mr. Greve go into Mr. Parrish?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The butler raised his hands in a quick gesture of denial.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;God forbid, Miss!&rdquo; he ejaculated in horror.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What, then, do you know that is likely to get anybody here into
+trouble?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The butler hesitated an instant. Then he spoke.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That Inspector Humphries has been asking me questions, Miss, in a nasty,
+suspicious sort o&rsquo; way. I told him, what I told him already, that just
+after I&rsquo;d done serving the tea Mr. Greve crossed the hall and went down
+the library corridor....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t tell him everything, Bude?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The butler took a step nearer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Miss,&rdquo; he said, lowering his voice, &ldquo;if you&rsquo;ll
+pardon my frankness, but I know as how you and Mr. Greve are old friends, and I
+wouldn&rsquo;t take it upon me to tell the police anything as might ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert stood up and faced the man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bude,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;Mr. Parrish was your master, a kind and
+generous master as he was kind and generous to every one in this house. We must
+clear up the mystery of his ... of his death. Neither you nor I nor Mr. Greve
+nor anybody must stand in the way. Now, tell me the truth!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She dropped back into her chair. She gave the order imperiously like the
+mistress of the house. The butler, trained through life to receive orders,
+surrendered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s nothing much to tell, Miss. When Mr. Humphries asked me if
+I were the last person to see Mr. Parrish alive, I made sure that Mr. Greve
+would say he had been in to tell him tea was ready. But Mr. Greve, who heard
+the Inspector&rsquo;s question and my answer, said nothing. So I thought,
+maybe, he had his reasons and I did not feel exactly as how it was my place
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert tapped with her foot impatiently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what grounds have you for saying that Mr. Greve went in to Mr.
+Parrish? Mr. Greve declared quite positively that he went out by the side door
+and did not go into the library at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, Miss, I heard him speaking to Mr. Parrish ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl turned round and the man saw fear in her wide-open eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The butler put his hand on the back of her chair and leaned forward.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Better leave things where they are, Miss,&rdquo; he said in a low voice.
+&ldquo;Mr. Parrish, I dare say, had his reasons. He&rsquo;s gone to his last
+account now. What does it matter why he done it ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The man was agitated, and in his emotion his carefully studied English was
+forsaking him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the girl broke in incisively.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please explain what you mean!&rdquo; she commanded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, Miss,&rdquo; replied the butler, &ldquo;we know that Mr. Greve had
+no call to like Mr. Parrish seeing how things were between you and the master
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean the servants know that Mr. Parrish and I were engaged
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude made a deprecatory gesture.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Know, Miss? I wouldn&rsquo;t go so far as to say &lsquo;know.&rsquo; But
+there has been some talk in the servants&rsquo; &rsquo;all, Miss. You know what
+young female servants are, Miss ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you think that Mr. Greve went to Mr. Parrish to talk about ...
+me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert&rsquo;s voice faltered a little. She looked eagerly at the
+other&rsquo;s fat, smooth face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I presoomed as much, Miss, I must confess!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what did you hear Mr. Greve say?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I heard nothing, Miss, except just only the sound of voices. After Mr.
+Greve had crossed me in the hall, I took the salver I was carrying into the
+butler&rsquo;s pantry. I stayed there a minute or two, and then I remembered I
+had not collected the letters from the box in the hall for the chauffeur to
+take to the post, the same as he does every evening. I went back to the hall,
+and just as I opened the green baize door I heard voices from the library
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was it Mr. Greve&rsquo;s voice?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot say, Miss. It was just the sound of voices, rather loud-like. I
+caught the sound because the door leading from the hall to the library corridor
+was ajar. Mr. Greve must have forgotten to shut it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What did you do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, Miss, I closed the corridor door ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why did you do that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, Miss, seeing the voices sounded angry-like, I thought perhaps it
+would be better not to let any one else hear.... And Mr. Greve looked
+upset-like when he passed me. He gave me quite a turn, he did, when I saw his
+face under the hall lamp....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you stay there ... and listen?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude drew himself up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is not my &rsquo;abit, Miss, not &rsquo;ere nor in hany of the
+&rsquo;ouses where I &rsquo;ave seen service....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The butler broke off. The <i>h</i>&rsquo;s were too much for him in his
+indignation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t mean to suggest anything underhand,&rdquo; the girl said
+quickly. &ldquo;I mean, did you hear any more?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, Miss. I emptied the letter-box and took the letters to the
+servants&rsquo; hall.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But,&rdquo; said Mary in a puzzled way, &ldquo;why do you say it was Mr.
+Greve if you didn&rsquo;t hear his voice?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude spread out his hands in bewilderment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who else should it have been, Miss? Sir Horace and the doctor were in
+the lounge at tea. Jay and Robert were in the servants&rsquo; hall. It could
+have been nobody else....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl&rsquo;s head sank slowly on her breast. She was silent. The butler
+shifted his position.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was there anything more, Miss?&rdquo; he asked after a little while.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is nothing further, thank you, Bude,&rdquo; replied Mary.
+&ldquo;About Mr. Greve, I am sure there must be some mistake. He cannot have
+understood Mr. Humphries&rsquo;s question. I&rsquo;ll ask him about it when I
+see him. I don&rsquo;t think I should say anything to the Inspector about it,
+at any rate, not until I&rsquo;ve seen Mr. Greve. He&rsquo;ll probably speak to
+you about it himself....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude made a motion as though he were going to say something. Then apparently he
+thought better of it, for he made a little formal bow and in his usual slow and
+dignified manner made his exit from the room.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br />
+ROBIN GOES TO MARY</h2>
+
+<p>
+The house telephone, standing on the long and gracefully designed desk with its
+elaborately lacquered top, whirred. Mary started from her reverie in her chair
+by the fire. By the clock on the mantelshelf she saw that it was a quarter past
+eight. She remembered that once her mother had knocked at her door and bidden
+her come down to dinner. She had refused the invitation, declining to unlock
+the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She lifted the receiver.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That you, Mary?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin was speaking.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I come up and see you? Or would you rather be left alone?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His firm, pleasant voice greatly comforted her. Only then she realized how
+greatly she craved sympathy. But the recollection of Bude&rsquo;s story
+suddenly interposed itself like a barrier between them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, come up,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I want to speak to you!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her voice was dispirited,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to see him,&rdquo; she told herself as she replaced
+the receiver, got up, and unlocked the door, &ldquo;but I must
+<i>know</i>!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A gentle tap came at the door. Robin came in quickly and crossed to where she
+stood by the fire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear!&rdquo; he said and put out his two hands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her hands were behind her back, the fingers nervously intertwining. She kept
+them there and made no sign that she had observed his gesture.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked at her in surprise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This has been terrible for you, Mary,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I wish to
+God I could make you realize how very, very much I feel for you in what you
+must be going through....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The phrase was formal and he brought it out irresolutely, chilled as he was by
+her reception. She was looking at him dispassionately, her forehead a little
+puckered, her eyes a trifle hard.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you sit down,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;There is something I
+wanted to say!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was looking at her now in a puzzled fashion. With rather feigned
+deliberation he chose a chair and sat down facing the fire. A lamp on the
+mantelpiece&mdash;the only light in the room&mdash;threw its rays on his face.
+His chin was set rather more squarely than his wont and his eyes were shining.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mary,&rdquo;&mdash;he leant forward towards her,&mdash;&ldquo;please
+forget what I said this afternoon. It was beastly of me, but I hardly knew what
+I was doing....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She made a little gesture as if to wave his apology aside. Then, with her hands
+clasped in front of her, scanning the nails, she asked, almost casually:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What did you say to Hartley Parrish in the library this
+afternoon?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin stared at her in amazement.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I was not in the library!&rdquo; he answered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl dropped her hands sharply to her side.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t quibble with me, Robin,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;What did you
+say to Hartley Parrish after you left me this afternoon in the
+billiard-room?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was still staring at her, but now there was a deep furrow between his brows.
+He was breathing rather hard.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did not speak to Parrish at all after I left you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His answer was curt and incisive.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you mean to tell me,&rdquo; Mary said, &ldquo;that, after you left me
+and went down the corridor towards the library, you neither went in to Hartley
+nor spoke to him!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then how do you account for the fact that, almost immediately after you
+had crossed Bude in the hall, he heard the sound of voices in the
+library?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin Greve stood up abruptly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bude, you say, makes this statement?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Certainly!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To whom, may I ask?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He spoke sharply and there was a challenging ring in his voice. It nettled the
+girl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Only to me,&rdquo; she said quickly, and added: &ldquo;You needn&rsquo;t
+think he has told the police!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Very deliberately Robin plucked his handkerchief from his sleeve, wiped his
+lips, and replaced it. The girl saw that his hands were trembling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why do you say that to me?&rdquo; he demanded rather fiercely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert shrugged her shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This afternoon,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;when I told you of my engagement
+to Hartley, you began by abusing him to me, you rushed from the room making
+straight for the library where we all know that Hartley was working, and a few
+minutes after Bude hears voices raised in anger proceeding from there. The next
+thing we know is that Hartley has ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She broke off and looked away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mary,&rdquo;&mdash;Robin&rsquo;s voice was grave, and he had mastered
+all signs of irritation,&mdash;&ldquo;you and I have known one another all our
+lives. You ought to know me well enough by now to understand that I don&rsquo;t
+tell you lies. When I say I haven&rsquo;t seen or spoken to Hartley Parrish
+since lunch this afternoon, that is the truth!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How can it be the truth?&rdquo; the girl insisted. &ldquo;Horace and Dr.
+Romain were both in the lounge-hall, Bude was in the hall, the other
+menservants were in the servants&rsquo; hall. You are the only man in the house
+not accounted for, and a minute before Bude heard these voices you go down the
+corridor towards the library. I can understand you wanting to keep it from the
+police, but why do you want to deceive <i>me</i>?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mary,&rdquo; answered the young man sternly, &ldquo;I know you&rsquo;re
+upset, but that&rsquo;s no justification for persisting in this stupid charge
+against me. I tell you I never saw Parrish or spoke to him, either, between
+lunch and when I saw him lying dead in the library. I am not going to repeat
+the denial. But you may as well understand now that I am not in the habit of
+allowing my friends to doubt my word!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary flamed up at his tone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you are my friend,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;why can&rsquo;t you trust
+me? Why should I find this out from Bude? Why should I be humiliated by hearing
+from the butler that he kept this evidence from the police in order to please
+me because you and I are friends? I am only trying to help you, to shield you
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That will do, Mary,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;No, you must hear what I have
+to say. If you insist on disbelieving me, you must. But I don&rsquo;t want you
+to help me. I don&rsquo;t want you to shield me. I shall make it my business to
+see that Bude&rsquo;s evidence is brought before the detective inspector from
+Scotland Yard who is being brought down here to handle the case ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A detective from Scotland Yard?&rdquo; the girl repeated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, a detective. Humphries is puzzled by several points about this case
+and has asked for assistance from London. He is right. Neither the
+circumstances of Parrish&rsquo;s death nor the motive of his act are clear.
+Bude&rsquo;s evidence is sufficient proof that somebody did gain access to the
+library this afternoon. In that case....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In that case,&rdquo; said Greve slowly, &ldquo;it may not be
+suicide....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary put one hand suddenly to her face as women do when they are frightened.
+She shrank back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Murder!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl gave a little gasp. Then she stretched out her hand and touched his
+arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, Robin,&rdquo; she spoke in quick gasps,&mdash;&ldquo;you
+can&rsquo;t give the police this evidence of Bude&rsquo;s. Don&rsquo;t you see
+it incriminates <i>you?</i> Don&rsquo;t you realize that every scrap of
+evidence points to you as being the man that visited Mr. Parrish in the library
+this afternoon? You&rsquo;re a lawyer, Robin. You understand these things.
+Don&rsquo;t you see what I mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He nodded curtly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perfectly,&rdquo; he replied coldly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bude will do what I tell him,&rdquo; the girl hurried on. &ldquo;There
+is no need for the police to know....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;On the contrary,&rdquo; said the other imperturbably, &ldquo;it is
+essential they should be told at once.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl grasped the lapels of his coat in her two hands. Her breath came
+quickly and she trembled all over.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you mad, Robin?&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Who could have wanted to
+kill poor Hartley? Why should you put these ideas into the heads of the police?
+Bude may have imagined everything. Now, you&rsquo;ll be sensible, promise
+me....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Very gently he detached the two slim hands that held his coat. His mouth was
+set in a firm line.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We are going to sift this thing to the bottom, Mary,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;no matter what are the consequences. You owe it to Parrish and you owe
+it to me....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The telephone trilled suddenly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin picked up the receiver,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Bude,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a moment&rsquo;s silence in the room broken as the clock on the
+mantelpiece chimed nine times. Then Robin said into the telephone:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right! Tell him I&rsquo;ll be down immediately!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He put down the receiver and turned to Mary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A detective inspector has arrived from London. He is asking to see me. I
+must go downstairs.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary, her elbows on the mantelpiece, was staring into the fire. At the sound of
+his voice she swung round quickly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Robin!&rdquo; she cried.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But she spoke too late.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin Greve had left the room.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br />
+MR. MANDERTON</h2>
+
+<p>
+A quality which had gone far to lay the foundations of the name which Robin
+Greve was rapidly making at the bar was his strong intuitive sense. He had the
+rare ability of correctly &lsquo;sensing&rsquo; an atmosphere, an uncanny
+<i>flair</i> for driving instantly at the heart of a situation, which rendered
+him in the courts a dexterous advocate and a redoubtable opponent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Now, as he came into the lounge from the big oak staircase, he instantly
+realized that he had entered an unfriendly atmosphere. The concealed lights
+which were set all round the cornice of the room were turned on, flooding the
+pleasantly snug room with soft reflected light. A little group stood about the
+fire, Bude, Jay, Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s man, and a stranger. Jay was engaged
+in earnest conversation with the stranger. But at the sound of Greve&rsquo;s
+foot upon the staircase, the conversation ceased and a silence fell on the
+group.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Greve&rsquo;s attention was immediately attracted towards the stranger, whom he
+surmised to be the detective from Scotland Yard. He was a big, burly man with a
+heavy dark moustache, straight and rather thin black hair, and coarse features.
+He looked a full-blooded, plethoric person with reddish-blue veins on his
+florid face, and a heavy jowl which over-feeding, Robin surmised, had made
+fullish. He was very neatly dressed in his black overcoat with velvet collar
+carefully brushed, his natty black tie with its pearl pin, and well-polished
+boots. His black bowler hat, with a pair of heavy dogskin gloves, neatly
+folded, lay on the table.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This Mr. Greve?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude and Jay fell back as Robin joined the group. The detective bent his gaze
+on the young barrister as he put his question, and Robin for the first time
+noticed his eyes. Keen and clear, they were ill-suited, he thought, to the
+rather gross features of the man. By right he should have had either the small
+and roguish or the pale and expressionless eyes which are habitually found in
+individuals of the sanguine temperament.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The detective had a trick of dropping his eyes to his boots. When he raised
+them, the effect was to alter his whole expression. His eyes, well-open, keenly
+observant, in perpetual motion, lent an air of alertness, of shrewdness, to his
+heavy, florid countenance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is my name,&rdquo; said Robin, answering his question. &ldquo;I am
+a barrister. I have met some of your people at the Yard, but I don&rsquo;t
+think....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Detective-Inspector Manderton,&rdquo; interjected the big man, and
+paused as though to say, &ldquo;Let that sink in!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin knew him well by repute. His qualities were those of the bull-dog,
+slow-moving, obstinately brave, and desperately tenacious. His was a name to
+conjure with among the criminal classes, and his career was starred with
+various sensational tussles with desperate criminals, for Detective-Inspector
+Manderton, when engaged on a case, invariably &ldquo;took a hand
+himself,&rdquo; as he phrased it, when an arrest was to be made. A bullet-hole
+in his right thigh and an imperfectly knitted right collar-bone remained to
+remind him of this propensity of his. His motto, as he was fond of saying, was,
+&ldquo;What I have I hold!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, Mr. Greve,&rdquo; said the detective in a loud, hectoring voice,
+&ldquo;perhaps you will be good enough to tell me what you know of this
+affair?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin flushed angrily at the man&rsquo;s manner. But there was no trace of
+resentment in his voice as he replied. He told Manderton what he had already
+told Humphries: how he had gone from the billiard-room across the hall and down
+the library corridor to the side-door into the grounds, intending to have a
+stroll before tea, but, finding that it was threatening rain, had returned to
+the house by the front door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The detective scanned the young man&rsquo;s face closely as he spoke. When
+Robin had finished, the other dropped his eyes and seemed to be examining the
+brilliant polish of his boots. He said nothing, and again Robin became aware of
+the atmosphere of hostility towards him which this man radiated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is dark at five o&rsquo;clock?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Manderton turned to Bude.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Getting on that way, sir,&rdquo; the butler agreed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you in the habit, sir,&rdquo;&mdash;the detective turned to Robin
+now,&mdash;&ldquo;of going out for walks in the dark?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Greve shrugged his shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had been sitting in the billiard-room. It was rather stuffy, so I
+thought I&rsquo;d like some air before tea!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You left Miss Trevert in the billiard-room?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Greve put a hand to his throat and eased his collar.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The gong had sounded for tea,&rdquo; the detective went on
+imperturbably; &ldquo;surely it would have been more natural for you to have
+brought Miss Trevert with you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t wish to!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton cleared his throat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he grunted. &ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t wish to. I should like
+you to be frank with me, Mr. Greve, please. Was it not a fact that you and Miss
+Trevert had words?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked up sharply at him with contracted pupils.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You took a certain interest in this young lady?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Manderton,&rdquo;&mdash;Robin spoke with a certain
+<i>hauteur</i>,&mdash;&ldquo;don&rsquo;t you think we might leave Miss
+Trevert&rsquo;s name out of this?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Greve,&rdquo; replied the detective bluntly, &ldquo;I
+don&rsquo;t!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin made a little gesture of resignation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Before the servants....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, come, sir,&rdquo; the detective broke in, &ldquo;with all respect
+to the young lady and yourself, it was a matter of common knowledge in the
+house that she and you were ... well, old friends. It was remarked, Mr. Greve,
+I may remind you, that you looked very upset-like when you left the
+billiard-room to&rdquo;&mdash;he paused perceptibly&mdash;&ldquo;to go for your
+stroll in the dark.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin glanced quickly round the group. Jay averted his eyes. As for Bude, he
+was the picture of embarrassment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You seem to be singularly well posted in the gossip of the
+servants&rsquo; hall, Mr. Manderton!&rdquo; said Robin hotly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was a foolish remark, and Robin regretted it the moment the words had left
+his mouth.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, yes,&rdquo; commented the detective slowly, &ldquo;I am. I shall
+be well posted on the whole of this case, presently, I hope, sir!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His manner was perfectly respectful, but reserved almost to a tone of menace.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In that case,&rdquo; said Robin, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you something
+you don&rsquo;t know, Mr. Manderton. Has Bude told you what he heard after I
+had passed him in the hall?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Interest flashed at once into the detective&rsquo;s face. He turned quickly to
+the butler. Robin felt he had scored.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What did you hear?&rdquo; he said sharply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude looked round wildly. His large, fish-like mouth twitched, and he made a
+few feeble gestures with his hands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was only perhaps an idea of mine, sir,&rdquo; he
+stammered,&mdash;&ldquo;just a sort of idea ... I dare say I was mistaken. My
+hearing ain&rsquo;t what it was, sir....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you try to hoodwink me,&rdquo; said Manderton, with sudden
+ferocity, knitting his brows and frowning at the unfortunate butler.
+&ldquo;Come on and tell us what you heard. Mr. Greve knows and I mean to. Out
+with it!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude cast a reproachful glance at Robin. Then he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir, a minute or two after Mr. Greve had passed me, I went back to
+the hall and through the open door of the corridor leading to the library, I
+heard voices!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Voices, eh? Did you recognize them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir. It was just the sound of talking!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You told Miss Trevert they were loud voices, Bude!&rdquo; Robin
+interrupted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; replied the butler, &ldquo;they were loudish in a
+manner o&rsquo; speaking, else I shouldn&rsquo;t have heard them!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The detective rapped the question out sharply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, because the library door was locked, sir!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you know that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because Miss Trevert and Dr. Romain both tried the handle and
+couldn&rsquo;t get in!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said Manderton, &ldquo;you mean the door was locked <i>when
+the body was found!</i> Now, as to these voices. Were they men&rsquo;s
+voices?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir, I should say so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because they were deep-like!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was Mr. Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s voice one of them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The butler spread out his hands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That I couldn&rsquo;t say! I just heard the murmur-like, then shut the
+passage door quickly ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir, I thought ... I didn&rsquo;t want to listen....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You thought one of the voices was Mr. Greve&rsquo;s, eh? Having a row
+with Mr. Parrish, eh? About the lady, isn&rsquo;t that right?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t you going rather too fast?&rdquo; said Robin quietly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the detective ignored him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come on and answer my question, my man,&rdquo; he said harshly.
+&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you think it was Mr. Hartley Parrish and Mr. Greve here
+having a bit of a dust-up about the young lady being engaged to Mr.
+Parrish?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, perhaps I did, but....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Like a flash the detective turned on Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you know about this?&rdquo; he demanded fiercely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; said Greve. &ldquo;As I have told you already, I did not
+see Mr. Parrish alive again after lunch, nor did I speak to him. What I would
+suggest to you now is that upon this evidence of Bude&rsquo;s depends the
+vitally important question of how Mr. Parrish met his death. Though he was
+found with a revolver in his hand, none of us in this house know of any good
+motive for his suicide. I put it to you that the man who can furnish us with
+this motive is the owner of the voice heard by Bude in conversation with Mr.
+Parrish, since obviously nobody other than Mr. Parrish and possibly this
+unknown person was in the library block at the time. And I would further
+remark, Mr. Manderton, that, until the bullet has been extracted, we do not
+know that Mr. Parrish killed <i>himself</i>...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the detective significantly, &ldquo;we
+don&rsquo;t!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had dropped his eyes to the ground now and was studying the pattern of the
+hearth-rug.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You say you heard no shot?&rdquo; he suddenly asked Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No one other than Miss Trevert, I gather, heard the shot?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is so!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton consulted a slip of paper which he drew from his pocket.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Inspector Humphries,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;has drawn up a rough
+time-table of events leading up to Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s death, based on the
+evidence he has taken here this evening. You will tell me if it tallies.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He read from the slip:
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+5 P.M. Bude sounds the gong for tea.
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+5.10 Mr. Greve passes Bude in the hall and goes down the corridor leading to
+the library. Mr. Greve states he went straight out by the side door into the
+gardens.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The detective looked up from his reading.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;At 5.12, let us say, Bude comes back from the servants&rsquo; quarters
+to the hall and hears voices from the library. He closes the passage door. Is
+that right?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would be about two minutes after I saw Mr. Greve the first
+time,&rdquo; he agreed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The detective resumed his reading.
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+5.15 P.M. Miss Trevert goes to fetch Mr. Parrish in to tea. She finds the
+library door locked. Tries the handle and hears a shot.
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+5.18 (say) Miss Trevert comes into the lounge hall and gives the alarm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Manderton briskly, &ldquo;I should like to ask
+you one or two further questions. Firstly, how long were you out on your stroll
+in the dark?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should think about two or three minutes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is to say, if you left the house by the side door at 5.10, you were
+back in the house by 5.13.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, that would be right,&rdquo; Robin agreed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what did you do when you came in?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I went up to my room to fetch a letter for the post.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Trevert heard the shot fired at 5.15. Where were you at that
+time?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In my bedroom, I should say. I was there for a few minutes as I had to
+write a cheque....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And where is your bedroom?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In the other wing above the billiard-room.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hm! A pistol shot makes a great deal of noise. It seems strange that
+nobody in the house should have heard it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Here Bude interposed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Parrish, sir, was very particular about noise. He had the library
+door and the door leading from the front hall to the library corridor specially
+felted so that he should not hear any sounds from the house when he was working
+in the library. That library wing was absolutely shut off from the rest of the
+house. It was always uncommon quiet....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the detective, ignoring him, turned to Robin again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have been round the house,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It does not seem to
+me it ought to take you three or even two minutes to walk from the side door to
+the front door. I should say it would be a matter of about thirty
+seconds!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Excuse me,&rdquo; Robin answered quickly, &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t say I
+went straight from the side to the front door. I went through the gardens
+following the path that leads to the main drive. There I turned and came back
+to the front door.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you assert that you heard nothing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I heard nothing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Neither the &lsquo;loud voices&rsquo; which the butler heard within two
+minutes of your leaving the house nor the shot fired five minutes later?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I heard nothing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton examined the toes of his boots carefully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You heard nothing!&rdquo; he repeated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The door opened suddenly and Dr. Romain appeared. With him was the village
+practitioner and Inspector Humphries.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dr. Redstone carried in his hand a little pad of cotton wool. He bore it over
+to the fireplace and unwrapping the lint showed a twisted fragment of lead
+lying on the bloodstained dressing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Straight through the heart and lodged in the spine,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;Death was absolutely instantaneous.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The detective picked up the bullet and scrutinized it closely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Browning pistol ammunition,&rdquo; observed Humphries; &ldquo;it fits
+the gun he used. There&rsquo;s half a dozen spare rounds in one of the drawers
+of his dressing-room upstairs.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton drew Inspector Humphries and Dr. Redstone into a corner of the
+room where they conversed in undertones. Bude and Jay had vanished. Dr. Romain
+turned to Robin Greve, who stood lost in a reverie, staring into the fire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A clear case of suicide,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The medical evidence is
+conclusive on that point. A most amazing affair. I can&rsquo;t conceive what
+drove him to it. Why <i>did</i> he do it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah! why?&rdquo; said Robin.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X.<br />
+A SMOKING CHIMNEY</h2>
+
+<p>
+A Red sun glowed dully through a thin mist when, on the following morning,
+Robin Greve emerged from the side door into the gardens of Harkings. It was a
+still, mild day. Moisture from the night&rsquo;s rain yet hung translucent on
+the black limbs of the bare trees and glistened like diamonds on the closely
+cropped turf of the lawn. In the air was a pleasant smell of damp earth.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin paused an instant outside the door in the library corridor and inhaled
+the morning air greedily. He had spent a restless, fitful night. His sleep had
+been haunted by the riddle which, since the previous evening, had cast its
+shadow over the pleasant house. The mystery of Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s death
+obsessed him. If it was suicide,&mdash;and the doctors were both positive on
+the point&mdash;the motive eluded him utterly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His mind, trained to logical processes of reasoning by his practice of the law,
+baulked at the theory. When he thought of Hartley Parrish as he had seen him at
+luncheon on the day before, striding with his quick, vigorous step into the
+room, boyishly curious to know what the <i>chef</i> was giving them to eat,
+devouring his lunch with obvious animal enjoyment, brimful of energy,
+dominating the table with his forceful, eager personality....
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The sound of voices in the library broke in upon his thoughts. Robin raised his
+head and listened. Some one appeared to be talking in a loud voice ... no, not
+talking ... rather declaiming.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Stepping quietly on the hard gravel path, Robin turned the corner of the house
+and came into view of the library window. The window-pane gaped, shattered
+where Horace Trevert had broken the glass on the previous evening when
+effecting an entrance into the room. Framed in the ragged outline of the
+splintered glass, bulked the large form of Sergeant Harris. He stood half
+turned from the window so as to catch the light on a copy of <i>The Times</i>
+which he held in his red and freckled hands. He was reading aloud in stentorian
+tones from a leading article.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;While this country,&rdquo; he bawled sonorously, &ldquo;cannot ... in
+h&rsquo;our belief ... hevade ... er ... responsibility ... er ... h&rsquo;m
+disquieting sitwation ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear me!&rdquo; thought Robin to himself, &ldquo;what a very
+extraordinary morning pursuit for our police!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Suddenly the reading was interrupted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin heard the library door open. Then Manderton&rsquo;s voice cried:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;ll do, thank you, Sergeant!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you &rsquo;ear me, sir?&rdquo; asked the sergeant, who seemed very
+much relieved to be quit of his task.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a word!&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;But we&rsquo;ll try with the
+library door open! I&rsquo;ll go back to the hall and you start again!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A thoughtful look on his face, Robin turned quickly and, hurrying round the
+side of the house, entered by the front door. Standing by the door leading to
+the library corridor he found Manderton.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The detective did not seem particularly glad to see him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good-morning, Inspector,&rdquo; said Robin affably, &ldquo;you&rsquo;re
+early to work, I see. Having a little experiment, eh?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Manderton nodded without replying. Then the stentorian tones of Sergeant Harris
+proclaiming the views of &ldquo;The Thunderer&rdquo; on the Silesian situation
+rolled down the corridor and struck distinctly on the ears of the listeners in
+the hall.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently Manderton closed the corridor door, shutting off the sound abruptly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think you said you could not hear the sergeant with the library door
+shut?&rdquo; queried Robin suavely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;With the door shut&mdash;no,&rdquo; answered the detective shortly.
+&ldquo;But with the door open ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He broke off significantly and dropped his eyes to his boots.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Would it be troubling you,&rdquo; Robin struck in, &ldquo;if we pushed
+your experiment one step farther?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Manderton lifted his eyes and looked at the young man, Robin met his gaze
+unflinchingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was no invitation in his voice, but Robin affected to disregard the
+other&rsquo;s coldness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let the library door be shut,&rdquo; said Robin, &ldquo;but leave the
+glass door leading into the garden open. Then give Sergeant Harris another
+trial at his reading....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The detective smiled rather condescendingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;With the library door shut, you&rsquo;ll hear nothing,&rdquo; he
+remarked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The library window is open,&rdquo; Robin retorted, &ldquo;or rather it
+is as good as open, as one of the two big panes is smashed....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His voice vibrated with eagerness. The detective looked at him curiously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, try if you like,&rdquo; he said carelessly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Without waiting for his assent, Robin had already plucked open the corridor
+door and was halfway down the passage as the other replied. He was back again
+almost at once and, motioning the detective to silence, took his place at his
+side by the open door. Then the sound of the policeman&rsquo;s voice was heard
+from the corridor. It was muffled and indistinct so that the sense of his words
+could not be made out. But the voice was audible enough.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin turned to the detective.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bude could make out no words,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But how do we know that the glass door was open?&rdquo; queried the
+detective sceptically.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because I left it open myself,&rdquo; Robin countered promptly,
+&ldquo;when I went out for my walk before tea. Sir Horace told me that he found
+the door banging about in the wind when he went out to get into the library by
+the window.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton allowed his fat, serious face to expand very slowly into a broad,
+superior smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Doesn&rsquo;t it seem a little curious,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that Mr.
+Hartley Parrish should choose to sit and work in the library on a gusty and
+dark winter evening with the window wide open? You&rsquo;ll allow, I think,
+that the window was not broken until after his death ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin&rsquo;s nerves were ragged. The man&rsquo;s tone nettled him exceedingly.
+But he confined himself to making a little gesture of impatience.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no, sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Manderton, very decidedly, &ldquo;I prefer
+to think that the library door was open, left open by the party who went in to
+speak to Mr. Parrish yesterday afternoon ... and who knows more about the
+gentleman&rsquo;s suicide than he would have people think ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin boiled over fairly at this.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good God, man!&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;do you accept this theory of
+suicide as blandly as all that? Have you examined the body? Don&rsquo;t you use
+your eyes? I tell you ... bah, what&rsquo;s the use? I&rsquo;m not here to do
+your work for you!...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; said the detective, quite unruffled, &ldquo;you are not.
+And I think I&rsquo;ll continue to see about it myself!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With that he opened the corridor door and vanished down the passage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With great deliberation Robin selected a cigarette from his case, lit it, and
+walked out through the front door into the fresh air again. More than ever he
+felt the riddle of Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s death weighing upon his mind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His intuitive sense rebelled against the theory of suicide, despite the medical
+evidence, despite the revolver in the dead man&rsquo;s hand, despite the
+detective&rsquo;s assurance. And floating about in his brain, like the gossamer
+on the glistening bushes in the gardens, were broken threads of vague
+suspicions, of half-formed theories, leading from his hasty observations in the
+death chamber ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In itself the death of Hartley Parrish left him cold. Yes, he must admit that.
+But the look in Mary Trevert&rsquo;s eyes, as she had urged him to shield
+himself from the suspicion of having driven Hartley Parrish to his death,
+haunted him. Already dimly he was beginning to realize that Hartley Parrish in
+death might prove as insuperable a bar between him and Mary Trevert as ever he
+had been in life ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was now a wealthy woman. Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s will had ensured that, he
+knew. But it was not the barrier of riches that Robin Greve feared. He had
+asked Mary Trevert to be his wife before there was any thought of her
+inheriting Parrish&rsquo;s fortune. He derived a little consolation from that
+reflection. At least he could not appear as a fortune-hunter in her eyes. But,
+until he could clear himself of the suspicion lurking in Mary Trevert&rsquo;s
+mind that he, Robin Greve, was in some way implicated in Hartley
+Parrish&rsquo;s death, the dead man, he felt, would always stand between them.
+And so ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin pitched the stump of his cigarette into a rose bush with a little gesture
+of resignation. Almost without knowing it, he had strolled into the rosery up a
+shallow flight of steps cut into the bank of green turf, which ran along the
+side of the house facing the library window to the corner of the house where it
+met the clipped box-hedge of the Pleasure Ground.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The rosery was a pleasant rectangle framed in a sort of rustic bower which in
+the summer was covered with superb roses of every hue and variety. Gravel paths
+intersected rose-beds cut into all manner of fantastic shapes where stood the
+slender shoots of the young rose-trees each with its tag setting forth its
+kind, for Hartley Parrish had been an enthusiastic amateur in this direction.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin turned round and faced the house. From his elevation he could look down
+into the library through the window with its shattered pane. He could see the
+gleaming polish on Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s big desk and the great arm-chair
+pushed back as Hartley Parrish had pushed it from him just before his death.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The bare poles of the woodwork festooned with the black arms of the creeping
+roses, standing out dark in the fast falling winter evening, must, he
+reflected, have been the last view that Hartley Parrish had had before ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But then he broke off his meditations abruptly. His eye had fallen on a narrow
+white patch standing out on one of the uprights supporting the clambering
+roses.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was a stout young tree, the light brown bark left adhering to its surface.
+It was a long blaze on the bark on the side of the trunk which had caught his
+eye. Robin walked round the gravel path until he was within a foot of the pole
+to get a better view.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The pole stood almost exactly opposite the library window. The scar in the bark
+was high up and diagonal and quite freshly made, for the wood was dead white
+and much splintered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The young man put a hand on the upright for support and leant forward,
+carefully refraining from putting his foot on the soft brown mould of the
+flower-bed which fringed the path between it and the rustic woodwork. Then he
+ran lightly down the steps until he stood with his back to the library window.
+From here he carefully surveyed the upright again, then, returning to the
+rosery, began a careful scrutiny of the gravel paths and the beds.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Apparently his search gave little result, for he presently abandoned it and
+turned his attention to the wooden framework on the other side of the
+rectangular rose-garden. He plunged boldly in among the rose-bushes and
+examined each upright in turn. He spent about half an hour in this meticulous
+investigation, and then, his boots covered with mould, his rough shooting-coat
+glistening with moisture, he walked slowly down the steps and reentered the
+house.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he was wiping the mud off his boots on the great mat in the front hall, Bude
+came out of the lounge hall with a pile of dishes on a tray.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bude,&rdquo; said Robin, &ldquo;can you tell me if the fire in the
+library has been smoking of late?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir,&rdquo; replied the butler, &ldquo;we&rsquo;ve always had
+trouble with that chimdy when the wind&rsquo;s in the southwest.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Has it been smoking lately?&rdquo; The young man reiterated his question
+impatiently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The man looked up in surprise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir, now you come to mention it, it has. As a matter o&rsquo;fact,
+sir, the sweep was ordered for to-day ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir, Mr. Parrish had mentioned it to me ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The question came out like a pistol shot.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yesterday, sir,&rdquo; answered the butler blandly. &ldquo;Just before
+luncheon, it was, sir. Mr. Parrish told me to have that chimdy seen to at once.
+And I telephoned for the sweep immediately after luncheon, sir ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did Mr. Parrish say anything else, Bude?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin eagerly scanned the butler&rsquo;s fat, unimpressive countenance. Bude,
+his tray held out stiffly in front of him, contracted his bushy eyebrows in
+thought.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know as he did, sir ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Think, man, think!&rdquo; Robin urged.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir,&rdquo; said Bude, unmoved, &ldquo;I believe, now I come to
+think of it, that Mr. Parrish did say something about the wind blowing his
+papers about ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is to say, he had been working with the window open?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin Greve&rsquo;s question rang out sharply. It was an affirmation more than
+a question.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir, leastways I suppose so, sir ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which window?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, the one Mr. Parrish always liked to have open in the warm weather,
+sir, ... the one opposite the desk. The other window was never opened, sir,
+because of the dictaphone as stands in front of it. The damp affects the
+mechanism ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you, Bude,&rdquo; said the young man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With his accustomed majesty the butler wheeled to go. In the turn of his head
+as he moved there was a faint suggestion of a shake ... a shake of
+uncomprehending pity.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br />
+&ldquo;... SPEED THE PARTING GUEST!&rdquo;</h2>
+
+<p>
+Dr. Romain was just finishing his breakfast as Robin Greve entered the
+dining-room, a cosy oak-panelled room with a bow window fitted with cushioned
+window-seats. Horace Trevert stood with his back to the fire. There was no sign
+of either Lady Margaret or of Mary. Silence seemed to fall on both the doctor
+and his companion as Robin came in. They wore that rather abashed look which
+people unconsciously assume when they break off a conversation on an unexpected
+entry.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Morning, Horace! Morning, Doctor!&rdquo; said Robin, crossing to the
+sideboard. &ldquo;Any sign of Lady Margaret or Mary yet?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The doctor had risen hastily to his feet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I rather think Dr. Redstone is expecting me,&rdquo; he said rapidly;
+&ldquo;I half promised to go over to Stevenish ... think I&rsquo;ll just run
+over. The walk&rsquo;ll do me good ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked rather wildly about him, then fairly bolted from the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin, the cover of the porridge dish in his hand, turned and stared at him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, whatever&rsquo;s the matter with Romain?&rdquo; he began.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Horace, who had not spoken a word, was himself halfway to the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Horace!&rdquo; called out Robin sharply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy stopped with his back towards the other. But he did not turn round.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin put the cover back on the porridge dish and crossed the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You all seem in the deuce of a hurry this morning ...&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Still the boy made no reply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, Horace, what&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin put his hand on young Trevert&rsquo;s shoulder. Horace shook him roughly
+off.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care to discuss it with you, Robin!&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin deliberately swung the boy round until he faced him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear old thing,&rdquo; he expostulated. &ldquo;What does it all mean?
+<i>What</i> won&rsquo;t you discuss with me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Horace Trevert looked straight at the speaker. His upper lip was pouted and
+trembled a little.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the use of talking?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You know what I
+mean. Or would you like me to be plainer ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin met his gaze unflinchingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I certainly would,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;if it&rsquo;s going to
+enlighten me as to why you should suddenly choose to behave like a lunatic
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Horace Trevert leant back and thrust his hands into his pockets.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;After what happened here yesterday,&rdquo; he said, speaking very
+clearly and deliberately, &ldquo;I wonder you have the nerve to stay ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear Horace,&rdquo; said Robin quite impassively, &ldquo;would you
+mind being a little more explicit? What precisely are you accusing me of? What
+have I done?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Done?&rdquo; exclaimed the young man heatedly. &ldquo;Done? Good God!
+Don&rsquo;t you realize that you have dragged my sister into this wretched
+business? Don&rsquo;t you understand that her name will be bandied about before
+a lot of rotten yokels at the inquest?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin Greve&rsquo;s eyes glittered dangerously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I confess,&rdquo; he said, with elaborate politeness, &ldquo;I scarcely
+understand what it has to do with me that Hartley Parrish should apparently
+commit suicide within a few days of becoming engaged to your sister ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ha!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Horace Trevert snorted indignantly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t understand, don&rsquo;t you? We don&rsquo;t understand
+either. But, I must say, we thought <i>you</i> did!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With that he turned to go. But Robin caught him by the arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Listen to me, Horace,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not going to
+quarrel with you in this house of death. But you&rsquo;re going to tell here
+and now what you meant by that remark. Do you understand? I&rsquo;m going to
+know!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Horace Trevert shook himself free.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Certainly you shall know,&rdquo; he answered with <i>hauteur</i>,
+&ldquo;but I must say I should have thought that, as a lawyer and so on, you
+would have guessed my meaning without my having to explain. What I mean is
+that, now that Hartley Parrish is dead, there is only one man who knows what
+drove him to his death. And that&rsquo;s yourself! Do you want it plainer than
+that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin took a step back and looked at his friend. But he did not speak.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And now,&rdquo; the boy continued, &ldquo;perhaps you will realize that
+your presence here is disagreeable to Mary ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did Mary ask you to tell me this?&rdquo; Robin broke in.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His voice had lost its hardness. It was almost wistful. The change of tone was
+so marked that it struck Horace. He hesitated an instant.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he blurted out. &ldquo;She doesn&rsquo;t want to see you
+again. I don&rsquo;t want to be offensive, Robin..&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please don&rsquo;t apologize,&rdquo; said Greve. &ldquo;I quite
+understand that this is your sister&rsquo;s house now and, of course, I shall
+leave at once. I&rsquo;ll ask Jay to pack my things if you could order the car
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy moved towards the door. Before he reached it Robin called him back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Horace,&rdquo; he said pleasantly, &ldquo;before you go I want you to
+answer me a question. Think before you speak, because it&rsquo;s very
+important. When you got into the library yesterday evening through the window,
+you smashed the glass, didn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Horace Trevert nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied, looking hard at Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To get into the room, of course!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was the window bolted?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy stopped and thought.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said slowly, &ldquo;now I come to think of it, I
+don&rsquo;t believe it was. No, of course, it wasn&rsquo;t. I just put my arm
+through the broken pane and shoved the window up. But why do you ask?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, nothing,&rdquo; answered Robin nonchalantly. &ldquo;I just was
+curious to know, that&rsquo;s all!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Horace stood and looked at him for an instant. Then he went out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A quarter of an hour later, Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s Rolls-Royce glided through
+the straggling main street of Stevenish. A chapel bell tinkled unmusically, and
+on the pavements, gleaming with wet, went a procession of neatly dressed
+townsfolk bound, prayer-book in hand, for their respective places of worship. A
+newsboy, sorting out the Sunday newspapers which had just come down by train
+from London, was the only figure visible on the little station platform. Robin
+bought a selection.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s all about Mr. Parrish,&rdquo; said the boy,
+&ldquo;&rsquo;im as they found dead up at &rsquo;Arkings las&rsquo; night. And
+the noospapers &rsquo;asn&rsquo;t &rsquo;arf been sendin&rsquo; down to-day ...
+reporters and photographers ... you oughter seen the crowd as come by the
+mornin&rsquo; train ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder what they&rsquo;ll get out of Manderton,&rdquo; commented Robin
+rather grimly to himself as his train puffed leisurely, after the habit of
+Sunday trains, into the quiet little station.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the solitude of his first-class smoker he unfolded the newspapers. None had
+more than the brief fact that Hartley Parrish had been found dead with a pistol
+in his hand, but they made up for the briefness of their reports by long
+accounts of the dead man&rsquo;s &ldquo;meteoric career.&rdquo; And, Robin
+noted with relief, hitherto Mary Trevert&rsquo;s name was out of the picture.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He dropped the papers on to the seat, and, as the train steamed serenely
+through the Sunday calm of the country towards London&rsquo;s outer suburbs, he
+reviewed in his mind such facts as he had gleaned regarding the circumstances
+of his late host&rsquo;s death.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He would, he told himself, accept for the time being as <i>facts</i> what, he
+admitted to himself, so far only seemed to be such. Hartley Parrish, then, had
+been seated in his library at his desk with the door locked. The fire was
+smoking, and therefore he had opened the window. According to Horace Trevert,
+the window had not been bolted when he had entered the library, for, after
+smashing the pane in the assumption that the bolt was shot, he had had no
+difficulty in pushing up the window. Hartley Parrish had opened the window
+himself, for on the nail of the middle finger of his left hand Robin had seen,
+with the aid of the magnifying-glass, a tiny fragment of white paint.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Who had closed it? He had no answer ready to <i>that</i> question.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Now, as to the circumstances of the shooting. The suicide theory invited one to
+believe that Hartley Parrish had got up from his desk, pushing back his chair,
+had gone round it until he stood between the desk and the window, and had there
+shot himself through the heart. Why should he have done this?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin had no answer ready to this question either. He passed on again. Bude had
+heard loud voices a very few minutes before Mary had heard the shot. That
+morning&rsquo;s experiments had shown that Bude could have heard these sounds
+only by way of the open window of the library and the open doors of the garden
+and the library corridor. Additional proof, if Bude had heard aright, that the
+library window was open.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leaning back in his seat, his finger-tips pressed together, Robin Greve
+resolutely faced the situation to which his deductions were leading him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The voice heard at the open window,&rdquo; he told himself, &ldquo;was
+the voice of the man who murdered Parrish and who closed the window, that is,
+of course, if the murder theory proves more conclusive than that of
+suicide.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This brought him back to his investigations in the rosery. The abrasure he had
+discovered on the timber upright was the mark of a bullet and a mark freshly
+made at that. Moreover, it had almost certainly been fired from the library
+window&mdash;from the window which Parrish had opened; the angle at which it
+had struck and marked the tree showed that almost conclusively.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet there had been but one shot! If only he had been able to find that bullet
+in the rosery! Robin thought ruefully of his long hunt among the sopping
+rose-bushes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yes, there had been only one shot. Mary Trevert had stated it definitely.
+Besides, the bullet that had killed Hartley Parrish had been fired from his own
+revolver and had been found in the body. Robin Greve felt the murder theory
+collapsing about him. But the suicide theory did not stand up, either. What
+possible, probable motive had Hartley Parrish for taking his own life?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He wasn&rsquo;t the man to do it!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The wheels of the train took up the rhythm of the phrase and dinned it into his
+ears.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He wasn&rsquo;t the man to do it!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The riddle seemed more baffling than ever.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin thrust one hand into his right-hand pocket to get his pipe, his other
+hand into his left-hand pocket to find his pouch. His left hand came into
+contact with a little ball of paper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He drew it out. It was the little ball of slatey-blue paper he had found on the
+floor of the library beside Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s dead body.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br />
+MR. MANDERTON IS NONPLUSSED</h2>
+
+<p>
+Horace Trevert walked abruptly into Mary&rsquo;s Chinese boudoir. Lady Margaret
+and the girl were standing by the fire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Horace, dropping into a chair, &ldquo;he&rsquo;s
+gone!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who?&rdquo; said Lady Margaret.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Robin,&rdquo; answered the boy, &ldquo;and I must say he took it very
+well ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t mean to tell me, Horace,&rdquo; said his mother,
+&ldquo;that you have actually sent Robin Greve away ...?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert put her hand on her mother&rsquo;s arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wished it, Mother. I asked Horace to send him away ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, my dear,&rdquo; protested Lady Margaret.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary interrupted her impatiently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Robin Greve was impossible here. I had to ask him to go. I suppose he
+can come back if ... if they want him for the inquest ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lady Margaret was looking at her daughter in a puzzled way. She was a woman of
+the world and had brought her daughter up to be a woman of the world. She knew
+that Mary was not impulsive by nature. She knew that there was a wealth of good
+sense behind those steady eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In response to a look from his mother, Horace got up and left the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mary, dear,&rdquo; said the older woman, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t you think
+you are making a mistake?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl turned away, one slim shoe tapping restlessly against the brass rail
+of the fireplace.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; her mother went on, &ldquo;remember I have known Robin
+Greve all his life. His father, the Admiral, was a very old friend of mine. He
+was the very personification of honour. Robin is very fond of you ... no, he
+has told me nothing, but I <i>know</i>. Don&rsquo;t you think it is rather hard
+on an old friend to turn him away just when you most want him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a heightened colour in the girl&rsquo;s face as she turned and looked
+her mother in the face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Robin has not behaved like a friend, Mother,&rdquo; she answered.
+&ldquo;He knows more than he pretends about ... about this. And he lets me find
+out things from the servants when he ought to have told me himself. If he is
+suspected of having said something to Hartley which made him do this dreadful
+thing, he has only himself to thank. I <i>did</i> try to shield
+him&mdash;before I knew. But I&rsquo;m not going to do so any more. If he stays
+I shall have the police suspecting me all the time. And I owe something to
+Hartley ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her mother sighed a soft little sigh. She said nothing. She was a very wise
+woman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Robin left me to go to the library ... I am sure of that ...&rdquo; Mary
+went on breathlessly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo; her mother asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl hesitated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then she said slowly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You and I have always been good pals, Mother, so I may as well tell you.
+Robin had just asked me to marry him. So I told him I was engaged to Hartley.
+He went on in the most awful way, and said that I was selling myself and that I
+would not be the first girl that Hartley had kept ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She broke off and raised her hands to her face. Then she put her elbows on the
+mantel-shelf and burst into tears.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, it was hateful,&rdquo; she sobbed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her mother put her arm round her soothingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, my dear,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;Robin was always fond of you, and
+I dare say it was a shock to him. When men feel like that about a girl they
+generally say things they don&rsquo;t mean ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert straightened herself up and dropped her hands to her side. She
+faced her mother, the tear-drops glistening on her long lashes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He meant it, every word of it. And he was perfectly right. I <i>was</i>
+selling myself, and you know I was, Mother. Do you think we can go on for ever
+like this, living on credit and dodging tradesmen? I meant to marry Hartley and
+stick to him. But I never thought ... I never guessed ... that Robin ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know, my dear,&rdquo; her mother interposed, &ldquo;I know. Perhaps it
+doesn&rsquo;t sound a very proper thing to say in the circumstances, but now
+that poor Hartley is gone, there is no reason whatsoever why you and Robin
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Treverts were a hot-tempered race. Lady Margaret&rsquo;s unfinished
+sentence seemed to infuriate the girl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you think I&rsquo;d marry Robin Greve as long as I thought he knew
+the mystery of Hartley&rsquo;s death!&rdquo; she cried passionately. &ldquo;I
+was willing to give up my self-respect once to save us from ruin, but I
+won&rsquo;t do it again. I&rsquo;m not surprised to find you thinking I am
+ready to marry Robin and live happy ever after on poor Hartley&rsquo;s money.
+But I&rsquo;ve not sunk so low as that! If you ever mention this to me again,
+Mother, I promise you I&rsquo;ll go away and never come back!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear child,&rdquo; temporized Lady Margaret, eyebrows raised in
+protest at this outburst, &ldquo;of course, it shall be as you wish. I only
+thought ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Mary Trevert was not listening. She leant on the mantel-shelf, her dark
+head in her hands, and she murmured:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The tragedy of it! My God, the tragedy of it!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lady Margaret twisted the rings on her long white fingers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The tragedy of it, my dear,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;is that you have
+sent away the man you love at a time when you will never need him so badly
+again ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a discreet tapping at the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come in!&rdquo; said Lady Margaret.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude appeared.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Manderton, the detective, my lady, was wishing to know whether he
+might see Miss Trevert ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Ask him to come up here,&rdquo; commanded Lady Margaret.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He is without&mdash;in the corridor, my lady!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He stepped back and in a moment Mr. Manderton stepped into the room, big,
+burly, and determined.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He made a little stiff bow to the two ladies and halted irresolute near the
+door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You wished to see my daughter, Mr. Manderton,&rdquo; said Lady Margaret.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The detective bowed again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you, too, my lady,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Allow me!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He closed the door, then crossed to the fireplace.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;After I had seen you and Miss Trevert last night, my lady,&rdquo; he
+began, &ldquo;I had a talk with Mr. Jeekes, Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s principal
+secretary, who came down by car from London as soon as he heard the news. My
+lady, I think this is a fairly simple case!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He paused and scanned the carpet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Jeekes tells me, my lady,&rdquo; he went on presently, &ldquo;that
+Mr. Parrish had been suffering from neurasthenia and a weak heart brought on by
+too much smoking. It appears that he had consulted, within the last two months,
+two leading specialists of Harley Street about his health. One of these
+gentlemen, Sir Winterton Maire, ordered him to knock off all work and all
+smoking for at least three months. He will give evidence to this effect at the
+inquest. Mr. Parrish disregarded these orders as he was wishful to put through
+his scheme for Hornaway&rsquo;s before taking a rest. Mr. Jeekes can prove
+that. In these circumstances, my lady....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lady Margaret, in her black crêpe de chine dress, setting off the silvery
+whiteness of her hair, was a calm, unemotional figure as she sat in her lacquer
+chair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; she asked again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the detective, &ldquo;the verdict will be one of
+&lsquo;Suicide whilst of unsound mind,&rsquo; and in my opinion the medical
+evidence will be sufficient to bring that in. There will not be occasion, I
+fancy, my lady, to probe any farther into the motives of Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s
+action....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And are you personally satisfied&rdquo;&mdash;Mary&rsquo;s voice broke
+in clear and unimpassioned&mdash;&ldquo;are you personally satisfied, Mr.
+Manderton, that Mr. Parrish shot himself?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The detective cast an appealing glance at the tips of his well-burnished boots.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Miss, I think I may say I am....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what about the evidence of Bude, who said he heard voices in the
+library....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton gave his shoulders the merest suspicion of a shrug, raised his
+hands, and dropped them to his sides.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had hoped, my lady,&rdquo; he said, throwing a glance at Lady
+Margaret, &ldquo;and you, Miss, that I had made it clear that in the
+circumstances we need not pursue that matter any further....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lady Margaret rose. Her dominating personality seemed to fill the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We are extremely obliged to you, Mr. Manderton,&rdquo; she said,
+&ldquo;for the able and discreet way in which you have handled this case. I
+sometimes meet the Chief Commissioner at dinner. I shall write to Sir Maurice
+and tell him my opinion.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton reddened a little.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your ladyship is too good,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lady Margaret bowed to signify that the interview was at an end. But Mary
+Trevert left her side and walked to the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you come downstairs with me, Mr. Manderton,&rdquo; she said.
+&ldquo;I should like to speak to you alone for a minute!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She led the way downstairs through the hall and out into the drive. A pale sun
+shone down from a grey and rainy sky, and the damp breeze blowing from the
+sodden trees played among the ringlets of her dark hair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We will walk down the drive,&rdquo; she said to the detective, who,
+rather astonished, had followed her. &ldquo;We can talk freely out of
+doors.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They took a dozen steps in silence. Then she said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who was it speaking to Mr. Parrish in the library?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Undoubtedly Mr. Greve,&rdquo; replied the man without hesitation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why undoubtedly?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It could have been no one else. We know that he left you hot to get at
+Mr. Parrish and have words with him. Bude heard them talking with voices raised
+aloud....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But if the door were locked?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Parrish may have opened it and locked it again, Mr. Greve getting
+out by the window. But there are no traces of that ... one would look to find
+marks on the paint on the inside. Besides, a little test we made this morning
+suggests that Mr. Greve spoke to Mr. Parrish through the window....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was the window open?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Miss, it probably was. The fire had been smoking in the library.
+Mr. Parrish had complained to Bude about it. Besides, we have found Mr.
+Parrish&rsquo;s finger-prints on the inside of the window-frame. Outside we
+found other finger-prints ... Sir Horace&rsquo;s. Sir Horace was good enough to
+allow his to be taken.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl looked at the detective quickly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Were there any other finger-prints except Horace&rsquo;s on the
+outside?&rdquo; she asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, Miss,&rdquo; he answered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They had reached the lodge-gates at the beginning of the drive and turned to
+retrace their steps to the house.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then we shall never know exactly why Mr. Parrish did this thing?&rdquo;
+hazarded Mary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton darted her a surreptitious glance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We shall see about that,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was menace in his voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert stopped. She put her hand on the detective&rsquo;s arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Manderton,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;if you are satisfied, then,
+believe me, I am!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The detective bowed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Trevert,&rdquo; he said,&mdash;and he spoke perfectly respectfully
+though his words were blunt,&mdash;&ldquo;I can well believe that!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl looked up quickly. She scanned his face rather apprehensively.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; she asked, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t
+understand....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean,&rdquo; was the detective&rsquo;s answer, given in his quiet,
+level voice, &ldquo;that when you attempted to mislead Inspector Humphries you
+did nobody any good!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl bent her head without replying, and in silence they regained the
+house. At the house door they parted, Mary going indoors while the detective
+remained standing on the drive. Very deliberately he produced a short briar
+pipe, cut a stub of dark plug tobacco from a flat piece he carried in his
+pocket, crammed the tobacco into his pipe, and lit it. Reflectively he blew a
+thin spiral of smoke into the still air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>He</i> told me about that fat butler&rsquo;s evidence,&rdquo; he said
+to himself; &ldquo;<i>he</i> put me wise about that window being open;
+<i>he</i> gave me the office about the paint on the finger-nails of Mr.
+H.P.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He ticked off each point on his fingers with the stem of his pipe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo; said Mr. Manderton aloud, addressing a laurel-bush.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br />
+JEEKES</h2>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Albert Edward Jeekes, Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s principal private secretary,
+lunched with Lady Margaret, Mary and Horace. Dr. Romain seemed not to have got
+over his embarrassment of the morning, for he did not put in an appearance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Jeekes was an old young man who supported bravely the weight of his
+Christian names, a reminder of his mother having occupied some small post in
+the household of Queen Victoria the Good. He might have been any age between 35
+and 50 with his thin sandy hair, his myopic gaze, and his habitual expression
+of worried perplexity.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was a shorthand-writer and typist of incredible dexterity and speed which,
+combined with an unquenchable energy, had recommended him to Hartley Parrish.
+Accordingly, in consideration of a salary which he would have been the first to
+describe as &ldquo;princely,&rdquo; he had during the past four years devoted
+some fifteen hours a day to the service of Mr. Hartley Parrish.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was unmarried. When not on duty, either at St. James&rsquo;s Square,
+Harkings, or Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s palatial offices in Broad Street, he was
+to be found at one of those immense and gloomy clubs of indiscriminate
+membership which are dotted about the parish of St. James&rsquo;s, S.W., and to
+which Mr. Jeekes was in the habit of referring in Early-Victorian accents of
+respect.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When I heard the news at the club, Miss Trevert,&rdquo; said Jeekes,
+&ldquo;you could have knocked me down with a feather. Mr. Parrish, as all of us
+knew, worked himself a great deal too hard, sometimes not knocking off for his
+tea, even, and wore his nerves all to pieces. But I never dreamed it would come
+to this. Ah! he&rsquo;s a great loss, and what we shall do without him I
+don&rsquo;t know. There was a piece in one of the papers about him
+to-day&mdash;perhaps you saw it?&mdash;it called him &lsquo;one of the captains
+of industry of modern England.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You were always a great help to him, Mr. Jeekes,&rdquo; said Mary, who
+was touched by the little man&rsquo;s hero-worship; &ldquo;I am sure you
+realized that he appreciated you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; replied Mr. Jeekes, rubbing the palms of his hands
+together, &ldquo;he did a great deal for <i>me</i>. Took me out of a City
+office where I was getting two pound five a week. That&rsquo;s what he did. It
+was a shipping firm. I tell you this because it has a bearing, Miss Trevert, on
+what is to follow. Why did he pick me? I&rsquo;ll tell you.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was passing through the front office with one of our principals when
+he asked him, just casually, what Union Pacific stood at. The boss didn&rsquo;t
+know.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;A hundred and eighty-seven London parity,&rsquo; says I. He
+turned round and looked at me. &lsquo;How do you know that?&rsquo; says he,
+rather surprised, this being in a shipping office, you understand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;I take an interest in the markets,&rsquo; I replied. &lsquo;Do
+you?&rsquo; he says. &lsquo;Then you might do for me,&rsquo; and tells me to
+come and see him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I went. He made me an offer. When I heard the figure ... my word!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Jeekes paused. Then added sadly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I had meant to work for him to my dying day!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They were in the billiard-room seated on the selfsame settee, Mary reflected,
+on which she and Robin had sat&mdash;how long ago it seemed, though only
+yesterday! Mary had carried the secretary off after luncheon in order to unfold
+to him a plan which she had been turning over in her mind ever since her
+conversation with the detective.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what are you going to do now, Mr. Jeekes?&rdquo; she asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little man pursed up his lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have to get something else, I
+expect. I&rsquo;m not expecting to find anything so good as I had with Mr.
+Parrish. And things are pretty crowded in the City, Miss Trevert, what with all
+the boys back from the war, God bless &rsquo;em, and glad we are to see
+&rsquo;em, I&rsquo;m sure. I hope you&rsquo;ll realize, Miss Trevert, that
+anything I can do to help to put Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s affairs
+straight....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was just about to say,&rdquo; Mary broke in, &ldquo;that I hope you
+will not contemplate any change, Mr. Jeekes. You know more about Mr.
+Parrish&rsquo;s affairs than anybody else, and I shall be very glad if you will
+stay on and help me. You know I have been left sole executrix....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Trevert,&rdquo;&mdash;the little man stammered in his
+embarrassment,&mdash;&ldquo;this is handsome of you. I surely thought you would
+have wished to make your own arrangements, appoint your own
+secretaries....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Jeekes broke off and looked at her, blinking hard.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; said Mary. &ldquo;Everything shall be as it was. I am
+sure that Mr. Bardy will approve. Besides, Mr. Jeekes, I want your assistance
+in something else....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Anything in my power....&rdquo; began Jeekes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Listen,&rdquo; said Mary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was all her old self-composed self now, a charming figure in her plain blue
+serge suit with a white silken shirt and black tie&mdash;the best approach to
+mourning her wardrobe could afford. Already the short winter afternoon was
+drawing in. Mysterious shadows lurked in the corners of the long and narrow
+room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Listen,&rdquo; said Mary, leaning forward. &ldquo;I want to know why Mr.
+Parrish killed himself. I mean to know. And I want you, Mr. Jeekes, to help me
+to find out.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Something stirred ever so faintly in the remote recesses of the billiard-room.
+A loose board or something creaked softly and was silent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What was that?&rdquo; the girl called out sharply. &ldquo;Who&rsquo;s
+there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Jeekes got up and walked over to the door. It was ajar. He closed it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just a board creaking,&rdquo; he said as he resumed his seat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want your aid in finding out the motive for this terrible
+deed,&rdquo;&mdash;Mary Trevert was speaking again,&mdash;&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t
+understand.... I don&rsquo;t see clear....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Trevert,&rdquo; said Mr. Jeekes, clearing his throat fussily,
+&ldquo;I fear we must look for the motive in the state of poor Mr.
+Parrish&rsquo;s nerves. An uncommonly high-strung man he always was, and he
+smoked those long black strong cigars of his from morning till night. Sir
+Winterton Maire told him flatly&mdash;Mr. Parrish, I recollect, repeated his
+very words to me after Sir Winterton had examined him&mdash;that, if he did not
+take a complete rest and give up smoking, he would not be answerable for the
+consequences. Therefore, Miss Trevert....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Jeekes,&rdquo; answered the girl, &ldquo;I knew Mr. Parrish pretty
+well. A woman, you know, gets to the heart of a man&rsquo;s character very
+often quicker than his daily associates in business. And I know that Mr.
+Parrish was the last man in the world to have done a thing like that. He was so
+... so undaunted. He made nothing of difficulties. He relied wholly on himself.
+That was the secret of his success. For him to have killed himself like this
+makes me feel convinced that there was some hidden reason, far stronger, far
+more terrible, than any question of nerves....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leaning forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, Mary Trevert raised
+her dark eyes to the little secretary&rsquo;s face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Many men have a secret in their lives,&rdquo; she said in a low voice.
+&ldquo;Do you know of anything in Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s life which an enemy might
+have made use of to drive him to his death?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her manner was so intense that Mr. Jeekes quite lost his self-composure. He
+clutched at his <i>pince-nez</i> and readjusted them upon his nose to cover his
+embarrassment. The secretary was not used to gazing at beautiful women whose
+expressive features showed as clearly as this the play of the emotions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Trevert,&rdquo; he said presently, &ldquo;I know of no such secret.
+But then what do I&mdash;what does any one&mdash;know of Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s
+former life?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We might make enquiries in South Africa?&rdquo; ventured the girl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I doubt if we should learn anything much through that,&rdquo; said the
+secretary. &ldquo;Of course, Mr. Parrish had great responsibilities and
+responsibility means worry....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A silence fell on them both. From somewhere in the dark shadows above the fire
+glowing red through the falling twilight a clock chimed once. There was a faint
+rustling from the neighborhood of the door. Mr. Jeekes started violently. A
+coal dropped noisily into the fireplace.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There was something else,&rdquo; said Mary, ignoring the interruption,
+and paused. She did not look up when she spoke again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is often a woman in cases like this,&rdquo; she began reluctantly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Jeekes looked extremely uncomfortable.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Trevert,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I beg you will not press me on that
+score....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo; asked the girl bluntly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because ... because&rdquo;&mdash;Mr. Jeekes stumbled sadly over his
+words&mdash;&ldquo;because, dear me, there are some things which really I
+couldn&rsquo;t possibly discuss ... if you&rsquo;ll excuse me....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, but you can discuss everything, Mr. Jeekes,&rdquo; replied Mary
+Trevert composedly. &ldquo;I am not a child, you know. I am perfectly well
+aware that there&rsquo;s a woman somewhere in the life of every man, very often
+two or three. I haven&rsquo;t got any illusions on the subject, I assure you. I
+never supposed for a moment that I was the first woman in Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s
+life....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This candour seemed to administer a knock-out blow to the little
+secretary&rsquo;s Victorian mind. He was speechless. He took off his
+<i>pince-nez</i>, blindly polished them with his pocket-handkerchief and
+replaced them upon his nose. His fingers trembled violently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have no wish to appear vulgarly curious,&rdquo; the girl went
+on,&mdash;Mr. Jeekes made a quick gesture of dissent,&mdash;&ldquo;but I am
+anxious to know whether Mr. Parrish was being blackmailed ... or anything like
+that....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no, Miss Trevert, I do assure you,&rdquo; the little man
+expostulated in hasty denial, &ldquo;nothing like that, I am convinced. At
+least, that is to say ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He rose to his feet, clutching the little <i>attaché</i> case which he
+invariably carried with him as a kind of emblem of office.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And now, if you&rsquo;ll excuse me, Miss Trevert,&rdquo; he muttered,
+&ldquo;I should really be going. I am due at Mr. Bardy&rsquo;s office at five
+o&rsquo;clock. He is coming up from the country specially to meet me. There is
+so much to discuss with regard to this terrible affair.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He glanced at his watch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;With the roads as greasy as they are,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;it will
+take me all my time in the car to ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He cast a panic-stricken glance around him. But Mary Trevert held him fast.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t finish what you were saying about Mr. Parrish, Mr.
+Jeekes,&rdquo; she said impassively. The secretary made no sign. But he looked
+a trifle sullen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think you realize, Mr. Jeekes,&rdquo; she said,
+&ldquo;that other people besides myself are keenly interested in the motives
+for Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s suicide. The police profess to be willing to accept the
+testimony of the specialists as satisfactory medical evidence about his state
+of mind. But I distrust that man, Manderton. He is not satisfied, Mr. Jeekes.
+He won&rsquo;t rest until he knows the truth.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The secretary cast her a frightened glance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But Mr. Manderton told me himself, Miss Trevert,&rdquo; he affirmed,
+&ldquo;that the verdict would be, &lsquo;Suicide while temporarily
+insane,&rsquo; on Sir Winterton Maire&rsquo;s evidence alone ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert tapped the ground impatiently with her foot.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Manderton will get at the truth, I tell you,&rdquo; she said.
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s that kind of man. Do you want me to find out from them? At
+the inquest, perhaps?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The secretary put his <i>attaché</i> case down on the lounge again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, that would be most improper, Miss Trevert,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;But your question embarrasses me. It embarrasses me very much ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What are you keeping back from me, Mr. Jeekes?&rdquo; the girl demanded
+imperiously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The secretary mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. Then, as though with
+an effort, he spoke.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is a lady, a French lady, who draws an income from Mr. Parrish
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl remained impassive, but her eyes grew rather hard.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;These payments are still going on?&rdquo; she asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Jeekes hesitated. Then he nodded,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well? Was she blackmailing ... him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; Mr. Jeekes averred hastily. &ldquo;But there was some
+unpleasantness some months ago ... er ... a county court action, to be precise,
+about some bills she owed. Mr. Parrish was very angry about it and settled to
+prevent it coming into court. But there was some talk about it ... in legal
+circles ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He threw a rather scared glance at the girl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please explain yourself, Mr. Jeekes,&rdquo; she said coldly. &ldquo;I
+don&rsquo;t understand ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Her lawyer was Le Hagen&mdash;it&rsquo;s a shady firm with a big
+criminal practice. They sometimes brief Mr. Greve ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert clasped and unclasped her hands quickly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I quite understand, Mr. Jeekes,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You
+needn&rsquo;t say any more ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She turned away in a manner that implied dismissal. It was as though she had
+forgotten the secretary&rsquo;s existence. He picked up his <i>attaché</i> case
+and walked slowly to the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A sharp exclamation broke from his lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Trevert,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;the door ... I shut it a little
+while back ... look, it&rsquo;s ajar!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl who stood at the fire switched on the electric light by the
+mantelpiece.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is ... is ... the door defective? Doesn&rsquo;t it shut properly?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little secretary forced out the questions in an agitated voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl walked across the room and shut the door. It closed perfectly, a piece
+of solid, well-fitting oak.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What does it mean?&rdquo; said Mr. Jeekes in a whisper. &ldquo;You
+understand, I should not wish what I told you just now about Mr. Parrish to be
+overheard ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They opened the door again. The dusky corridor was empty.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br />
+A SHEET OF BLUE PAPER</h2>
+
+<p>
+The sight of that crumpled ball of slatey-blue paper brought back to
+Robin&rsquo;s mind with astonishing vividness every detail of the scene in the
+library. Once more he looked into Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s staring, unseeing
+eyes, saw the firelight gleam again on the heavy gold signet ring on the dead
+man&rsquo;s hand, the tag of the dead man&rsquo;s bootlace as it trailed from
+one sprawling foot across the carpet. Once more he felt the dark cloud of the
+mystery envelop him as a mist and with a little sigh he smoothed out the
+crumpled paper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was an ordinary quarto sheet of stoutish paper, with a glazed surface, of an
+unusual shade of blue, darker than what the stationers call
+&ldquo;azure,&rdquo; yet lighter than legal blue. At the top right-hand corner
+was typewritten a date: &ldquo;Nov. 25.&rdquo; Otherwise the sheet was blank.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The curious thing about it was that a number of rectangular slits had been cut
+in the paper. Robin counted them. There were seven. They were of varying sizes,
+the largest a little over an inch, the smallest not more than a quarter of an
+inch, in length. In depth they measured about an eighth of an inch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin stared at the paper uncomprehendingly. He remembered perfectly where he
+had found it on the floor of the library at Harkings, between the dead body and
+the waste-paper basket. The basket, he recalled, stood out in the open just
+clear of the desk on the left-hand side. From the position in which it was
+lying the ball of paper might have been aimed for the waste-paper basket and,
+missing it, have fallen on the carpet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin turned the sheet over. The back was blank. Then he held the paper up to
+the light. Yes, there was a water-mark. Now it was easily discernible.
+&ldquo;EGMONT FF. QU.&rdquo; he made out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The train was slowing down. Robin glanced out of the window and saw that they
+were crossing the river in the mirky gloom of a London winter Sunday. He
+balanced the sheet of paper in his hands for a moment. Then he folded it
+carefully into four and stowed it away in his cigarette-case. The next moment
+the train thumped its way into Charing Cross.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A taxi deposited him at the Middle Temple Gate. He walked the short distance to
+the set of chambers he occupied. On his front door a piece of paper was pinned.
+By the rambling calligraphy and the phonetic English he recognized the hand of
+his &ldquo;laundress.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+Dere sir [it ran], mr rite call he want to see u pertikler i tole im as you was
+in country &amp; give im ur adress hope i dun rite mrs bragg
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin had scarcely got his key in the door of his &ldquo;oak&rdquo; when there
+was a step on the stair. A nice-looking young man with close-cropped fair hair
+appeared round the turn of the staircase.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hullo, Robin,&rdquo; he exclaimed impetuously, &ldquo;I <i>am</i> glad
+to have caught you like this. Your woman gave me your address, so I rang up
+Harkings at once and they told me you had just gone back to town. So I came
+straight here. You remember me, don&rsquo;t you? Bruce Wright ... But perhaps
+I&rsquo;m butting in. If you&rsquo;d rather see me some other time....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear boy,&rdquo; said Robin, motioning him into the flat, &ldquo;of
+course I remember you. Only I didn&rsquo;t recognize you just for the minute.
+Shove your hat down here in the hall. And as for butting in,&rdquo;&mdash;he
+threw open the door of the living-room,&mdash;&ldquo;why! I think there is no
+other man in England I would so gladly see at this very moment as
+yourself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The living-room was a bright and cheery place, tastefully furnished in old oak
+with gay chintz curtains. It looked out on an old-world paved court in the
+centre of which stood a solitary soot-laden plane-tree.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s this rot about Parrish having committed suicide?&rdquo;
+demanded the boy abruptly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin gave him in the briefest terms an outline of the tragedy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Poor old H.P., eh?&rdquo; mused young Wright; &ldquo;who&rsquo;d have
+thought it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But the idea of suicide is preposterous,&rdquo; he broke out suddenly.
+&ldquo;I knew Parrish probably better than anybody. He would never have done a
+thing like that. It must have been an accident....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That possibility is ruled out by the medical evidence,&rdquo; he said,
+and stopped short.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce Wright, who had been pacing up and down the room, halted in front of the
+barrister.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I tell you that Parrish was not the man to commit suicide. Nothing would
+have even forced him to take his own life. You know, I was working with him as
+his personal secretary every day for more than two years, and I am sure!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He resumed his pacing up and down the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Has it ever occurred to you, Robin,&rdquo; he said presently,
+&ldquo;that practically nothing is known of H.P.&rsquo;s antecedents? For
+instance, do you know where he was born?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I understand he was a Canadian,&rdquo; replied Robin with a shrewd
+glance at the flushed face of the boy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s lived in Canada,&rdquo; said Wright, &ldquo;but originally he
+was a Cockney, from the London slums. And I believe I am the only person who
+knows that....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin pushed an armchair at his companion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sit down and tell me about it,&rdquo; he commanded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy dropped into the chair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was after I had been only a few months with him,&rdquo; he began,
+&ldquo;shortly after I was discharged from the army with that lung wound of
+mine. We were driving back in the car from some munition works near Baling, and
+the chauffeur took a wrong turning near Wormwood Scrubs and got into a maze of
+dirty streets round there....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know,&rdquo; commented Robin, &ldquo;Notting Dale, they call
+it....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;H.P. wasn&rsquo;t noticing much,&rdquo; Wright went on, &ldquo;as he was
+dictating letters to me,&mdash;we used to do a lot of work in the Rolls-Royce
+in those rush days,&mdash;but, directly he noticed that the chauffeur was
+uncertain of the road, he shoved his head out of the window and put him right
+at once. I suppose I seemed surprised at his knowing his way about those parts,
+for he laughed at me and said: &lsquo;I was born and brought up down here,
+Bruce, in a little greengrocer&rsquo;s shop just off the Latimer Road.&rsquo; I
+said nothing because I didn&rsquo;t want to interrupt his train of thought. He
+had never talked to me or Jeekes or any of us like that before.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;By Gad,&rsquo; he went on, &lsquo;how the smell of the place
+brings back those days to me&mdash;the smell of decayed fruit, of stale fish,
+of dirt! Why, it seems like yesterday that Victor Marbran and I used to drive
+round uncle&rsquo;s cart with vegetables and coal. What a life to escape from,
+Bruce, my boy! Gad, you can count yourself lucky!&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was like a man talking to himself. I asked him how he had broken away
+from it all. At that he laughed, a bitter, hard sort of laugh. &lsquo;By having
+the guts to break away from it, boy,&rsquo; he said. &lsquo;It was I who made
+Victor Marbran come away with me. We worked our passages out to the Cape and
+made our way up-country to Matabeleland. That was in the early days of Rhodes
+and Barney Barnato&mdash;long before I went to Canada. I made Victor&rsquo;s
+fortune for him and mine as well. But I made more than Victor and he never
+forgave me. He&rsquo;d do me a bad turn if he could ...&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then he broke off short and went on with his dictating ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did he ever come back to this phase of his life?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Only when we got out of the car that morning. He said to me:
+&lsquo;Forget what I told you to-day, young fellow. Never rake up a man&rsquo;s
+past!&rsquo; And he never mentioned the subject again. Of course, I
+didn&rsquo;t either ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Stretched full length in his chair, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, Robin
+remained lost in thought.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The conversation came back to me to-day,&rdquo; said the boy,
+&ldquo;when I read of Parrish&rsquo;s death. And I wondered ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whether the secret of his death may not be found somewhere in his
+adventurous past. You see he said that Victor Marbran was an enemy. Then there
+was something else. I never told you&mdash;when you took all that trouble to
+get me another job after Parrish had sacked me&mdash;the exact reason for my
+dismissal. You never asked me either. That was decent of you, Robin ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I liked you, Bruce,&rdquo; said Robin shortly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;ll tell you now,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;When I joined
+H.P.&rsquo;s staff after I got out of the Army, I was put under old Jeekes, of
+course, to learn the work. One of the first injunctions he gave me was with
+regard to Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s letters. I suppose you know more or less how
+secretaries of a big business man like Hartley Parrish work. They open all
+letters, lay the important ones before the big man for him to deal with
+personally, make a digest of the others or deal with them direct ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; the boy resumed, &ldquo;the first thing old Jeekes told me
+was that letters arriving in a blue envelope and marked &lsquo;Personal&rsquo;
+were never to be opened ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In a blue envelope?&rdquo; echoed Robin quickly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, a particular kind of blue&mdash;a sort of slatey-blue&mdash;Jeekes
+showed me one as a guide. Well, these letters were to be handed to Mr. Parrish
+unopened.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin had stood up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s odd,&rdquo; he said, diving in his pocket.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, hold on a bit,&rdquo; protested the boy, &ldquo;this is really
+rather important what I am telling you. I&rsquo;ll never finish if you keep on
+interrupting.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sorry, Bruce,&rdquo; said Robin, and sat down again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But he began to play restlessly with his cigarette case which he had drawn from
+his pocket.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, of course,&rdquo; Bruce resumed, &ldquo;I wasn&rsquo;t much of a
+private secretary really, and one day I forgot all about this injunction. Some
+days old H.P. got as many as three hundred letters. I was alone at Harkings
+with him, I remember, Jeekes was up at Sheffield and the other secretaries were
+away ill or something, and in the rush of dealing with this enormous mail I
+slit one of these blue envelopes open with the rest. I discovered what I had
+done only after I had got all the letters sorted out, this one with the rest.
+So I went straight to old H.P. and told him. By Jove!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What happened?&rdquo; said Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He got into the most paralytic rage,&rdquo; said Bruce. &ldquo;I have
+never seen a man in such an absolute frenzy of passion. He went right off the
+hooks, just like that! He fairly put the wind up me. For a minute I thought he
+was going to kill me. He snatched the letter out of my hand, called me every
+name under the sun, and finally shouted: &lsquo;You&rsquo;re fired, d&rsquo;ye
+hear? I won&rsquo;t employ men who disobey my orders! Get out of this before I
+do you a mischief! I went straight off. And I never saw him again ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin Greve looked very serious. But his face displayed no emotion as he asked:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what was in the letter for him to make such a fuss about?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy shrugged his shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was the extraordinary part of it. The letter was perfectly
+harmless. It was an ordinary business letter from a firm in Holland ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In Holland?&rdquo; cried Greve. &ldquo;Did you say in Holland? Tell me
+the name! No, wait, see if I can remember. &lsquo;Van&rsquo;
+something&mdash;&lsquo;Speck&rsquo; or &lsquo;Spike&rsquo; ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I remember the name perfectly,&rdquo; answered Bruce, rather puzzled by
+the other&rsquo;s sudden outburst; &ldquo;it was Van der Spyck and Co. of
+Rotterdam. We had a good deal of correspondence with them ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin Greve had opened his cigarette-case and drawn from it a creased square of
+blue paper folded twice across. Unfolding it, he held up the sheet he had found
+in the library at Harkings.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is that the paper those letters were written on?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce took the sheet from him. He held it up to the light.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, yes,&rdquo; came the prompt answer. &ldquo;I&rsquo;d know it in a
+minute. Look, it&rsquo;s the same water-mark. &lsquo;Egmont.&rsquo; Where did
+you get hold of it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bruce,&rdquo; said Robin gravely, without answering the question,
+&ldquo;we&rsquo;re getting into deep water, boy!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br />
+SHADOWS</h2>
+
+<p>
+Robert Greve stood for an instant in silence by the window of his rooms. His
+fingers hammered out a tattoo on the pane. His eyes were fixed on the windows
+of the chambers across the court. But they did not take in the pleasant
+prospect of the tall, ivy-framed casements in their mellow setting of warm red
+brick. He was trying to fix a mental photograph of a letter&mdash;typewritten
+on paper of dark slatey blue&mdash;which he had seen on Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s
+desk in the library at Harkings on the previous afternoon.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Prompted by Bruce Wright, he could now recall the heading clearly. &ldquo;ELIAS
+VAN DER SPYCK &amp; Co., GENERAL IMPORTERS, ROTTERDAM,&rdquo; stood printed
+before his eyes as plainly as though he still held the typewritten sheet in
+front of him. But the mind plays curious tricks. Robin&rsquo;s brain had
+registered the name; yet it recorded no impression of the contents of the
+letter. Beyond the fact that it dealt in plain commercial fashion with some
+shipments or other, he could recall no particular whatever of it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But where did you get hold of this sheet of paper?&rdquo; Bruce
+Wright&rsquo;s voice broke in impatiently behind him. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m most
+frightfully interested to know ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Found it on the floor beside Parrish&rsquo;s body,&rdquo; answered Robin
+briefly. &ldquo;There was a letter, too, on the same paper ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Gad!&rdquo; exclaimed the boy eagerly, &ldquo;have you got that
+too?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was only your story that made me think of it. I had the letter. But I
+left it where I found it&mdash;on Parrish&rsquo;s desk in the library
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you read it ... you know what was in it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was a perfectly straightforward business letter ... something about
+steel shipments ... I don&rsquo;t remember any more ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A straightforward business letter,&rdquo; commented the boy. &ldquo;Like
+the letter I read, eh?...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me, Bruce,&rdquo; said Robin, after a moment&rsquo;s silence,
+&ldquo;during the time you were with Hartley Parrish, I suppose these blue
+letters came pretty often?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Young Wright wrinkled his brow in thought.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s rather difficult to say. You see, there were three of us
+besides old Jeekes, and, of course, these letters might have come without my
+knowledge anything about it. But during the seven months I worked with H.P. I
+suppose about half a dozen of these letters passed through my hands. They used
+to worry H.P., you know, Robin ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Worry him?&rdquo; exclaimed Robin sharply; &ldquo;how do you
+mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Bruce, &ldquo;Parrish was a very easygoing fellow, you
+know. He worked every one&mdash;himself included&mdash;like the devil, of
+course. But he was hardly ever nervy or grumpy. And so I was a bit surprised to
+find&mdash;after I had been with him for a time&mdash;that every now and then
+he sort of shrivelled up. He used to look ... well, careworn and ... and
+haggard. And at these times he was pretty short with all of us. It was such an
+extraordinary change from his usual cheery, optimistic self that sometimes I
+suspected him of dope or some horror like that ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin shook his head. He had a sudden vision of Hartley Parrish, one of his
+long, black Partagas thrust at an aggressive angle from a corner of his mouth,
+virile, battling, strong.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;not dope ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no, I know,&rdquo; the boy went on quickly. &ldquo;It wasn&rsquo;t
+dope. It was fear ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin swung round from the window.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fear? Fear of what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy cast a frightened glance over his shoulder rather as if he fancied he
+might be overheard.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of those letters,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;I am sure it was that. I
+watched him and ... and I <i>know</i>. Every time he got one of those letters
+in the bluish envelopes, these curious fits of gloom came over him. Robin
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What, Bruce?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think he was being blackmailed!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The barrister nodded thoughtfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you agree?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy awaited his answer eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Something very like that,&rdquo; replied the other.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then suddenly he smashed his fist into the open palm of his other hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But he wouldn&rsquo;t have taken it lying down!&rdquo; he cried.
+&ldquo;Hartley Parrish was a fighter, Bruce. Did you ever know a man who could
+best him? No, no, it won&rsquo;t fit! Besides ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He broke off and thought for an instant.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We must get that letter from Harkings,&rdquo; he said presently.
+&ldquo;Jeekes will have it. We can do nothing until ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His voice died away. Bruce, sunk in one of the big leather armchairs, was
+astonished to see him slip quickly away from the window and ensconce himself
+behind one of the chintz curtains.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here, Bruce,&rdquo; Robin called softly across the room. &ldquo;Just
+come here. But take care not to show yourself. Look out, keep behind the
+curtain and here ... peep out through this chink!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Young Wright peered through a narrow slit between the curtain and the
+window-frame. In the far corner of the courtyard beneath the windows, where a
+short round iron post marked a narrow passage leading to the adjoining court, a
+man was standing. He wore a shabby suit and a blue handkerchief knotted about
+his neck served him as a substitute for the more conventional collar and tie.
+His body was more than half concealed by the side of the house along which the
+passage ran. But his face was clearly distinguishable&mdash;a peaky, thin face,
+the upper part in the shadow of the peak of a discoloured tweed cap.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s been there on and off all the time we&rsquo;ve been
+talking,&rdquo; said Robin. &ldquo;I wasn&rsquo;t sure at first. But now
+I&rsquo;m certain. He&rsquo;s watching these windows! Look!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Briskly the watcher&rsquo;s head was withdrawn to emerge again, slowly and
+cautiously, in a little while.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But who is he? What does he want?&rdquo; asked Bruce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t an idea,&rdquo; retorted Robin Greve. &ldquo;But I could
+guess. Tell me, Bruce,&rdquo; he went on, stepping back from the window and
+motioning the boy to do the same, &ldquo;did you notice anybody following you
+when you came here?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m pretty sure nobody did. You see, I came in from the Strand,
+down Middle Temple Lane. Once service has started at Temple Church
+there&rsquo;s not a mouse stirring in the Inn till the church is out. I think I
+should have noticed if any one had followed me up to your chambers ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin set his chin squarely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then he came after me,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Bruce, you&rsquo;ll have
+to go to Harkings and get that letter!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By all means,&rdquo; answered the boy. &ldquo;But, I say, they
+won&rsquo;t much like me butting in, will they?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll have to say you came down to offer your sympathy, ...
+volunteer your services ... oh, anything. But you <i>must</i> get that letter!
+Do you understand, Bruce? <i>You must get that letter</i>&mdash;if you have to
+steal it!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy gave a long whistle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s rather a tall order, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin nodded. His face was very grave.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said presently, &ldquo;I suppose it is. But there is
+something ... something horrible behind this case, Bruce, something dark and
+... and mysterious. And I mean to get to the bottom of it. With your help. Or
+alone!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce put his hand impulsively on the other&rsquo;s arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You can count on me, you know,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;But don&rsquo;t
+you think ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He broke off shyly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think you&rsquo;d better tell me what you know. And what
+you suspect!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin hesitated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s fair. I suppose I ought. But
+there&rsquo;s not much to tell, Bruce. Just before Hartley Parrish was found
+dead, I asked Miss Trevert to marry me. I was too late. She was already engaged
+to Hartley Parrish. I was horrified ... I know some things about Parrish ... we
+had words and I went off. Five minutes later Miss Trevert went to fetch Parrish
+in to tea and heard a shot behind the locked door of the library. Horace
+Trevert got in through the window and found Parrish dead. Every one down at
+Harkings believes that I went in and threatened Parrish so that he committed
+suicide ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whom do you mean by every one?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin laughed drily. &ldquo;Mary Trevert, her mother, Horace Trevert ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The police, too?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Certainly. The police more than anybody!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Jove!&rdquo; commented the boy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You ask me what I suspect,&rdquo; Robin continued. &ldquo;I admit I have
+no positive proof. But I suspect that Hartley Parrish did not die by his own
+hand!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce Wright looked up with a startled expression on his face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean that he was murdered?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But how? Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Robin told him of the experiment in the library, of the open window and of
+the bullet mark he had discovered in the rosery.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What I want to know,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and what I am determined to
+find out beyond any possible doubt, is whether the bullet found in Hartley
+Parrish&rsquo;s body was fired from <i>his</i> pistol. But before we reach that
+point we have to explain how it happened that only one shot was heard and how a
+bullet which <i>apparently</i> came from Parrish&rsquo;s pistol was found in
+his body ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If Mr. Parrish was murdered, the murderer might have turned the gun
+round in Parrish&rsquo;s hand and forced him to shoot himself ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hardly,&rdquo; said Robin. &ldquo;Remember, Mary Trevert was at the door
+when the shot was fired. Your theory presupposes the employment of force, in
+other words, a struggle. Miss Trevert heard no scuffling. No, I&rsquo;ve
+thought of that.. it won&rsquo;t do ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you any suspicion of who the murderer might be?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin shook his head decidedly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a shadow of an idea,&rdquo; he affirmed positively. &ldquo;But I
+have a notion that we shall find a clue in this letter which, like a blithering
+fool, I left on Parrish&rsquo;s desk. It&rsquo;s the first glimmer of hope
+I&rsquo;ve seen yet ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce Wright squared his shoulders and threw his head back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll get it for you,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good boy,&rdquo; said Robin. &ldquo;But, Bruce,&rdquo; he went on,
+&ldquo;you&rsquo;ll have to go carefully. My name is mud in that house. You
+mustn&rsquo;t say you come from me. And if you ask boldly for the letter, they
+won&rsquo;t give it to you. Jeekes might, if he&rsquo;s there and you approach
+him cautiously. But, for Heaven&rsquo;s sake, don&rsquo;t try any diplomacy on
+Manderton ... that&rsquo;s the Scotland Yard man. He&rsquo;s as wary as a fox
+and sharp as needles.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce Wright buttoned up his coat with an air of finality.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Leave it to me,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I know Harkings like my pocket.
+Besides I&rsquo;ve got a friend there ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who might that be?&rdquo; queried the barrister.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bude,&rdquo; answered the boy and laid a finger on his lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But,&rdquo; he pursued, jerking his head in the direction of the window,
+&ldquo;what are we going to do about him out there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Him?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Oh, I&rsquo;m going to take him out for an
+airing!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin stepped out into the hall. He returned wearing his hat and overcoat. In
+his hand were two yale keys strung on a wisp of pink tape.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Listen, Bruce,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Give me ten minutes&rsquo; start
+to get rid of this jackal. Then clear out. There&rsquo;s a train to Stevenish
+at 3.23. If you get on the Underground at the Temple you ought to be able to
+make it easily. Here are the keys of the chambers. I can put you up here
+to-night if you like. I&rsquo;ll expect you when I see you ... with that
+letter. Savvy?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy stood up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll have that letter to-night,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;But
+in the meantime,&rdquo;&mdash;he waved the blue sheet with its mysterious slots
+at Robin,&mdash;&ldquo;what do you make of this?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin took the sheet of paper from him and replaced it in his cigarette-case.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps, when we have the letter,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;I shall be
+able to answer that question!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he lit a cigarette, gave the boy his hand, and a minute later Bruce
+Wright, watching through the chink of the curtain from the window of Robin
+Greve&rsquo;s chambers, saw a lanky form shuffle across the court and follow
+Robin round the angle of the house.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin strode quickly through the maze of narrow passages and tranquil, echoing
+courts into the Sabbath stillness of the Strand. An occasional halt at a
+shop-window was sufficient to assure him that the watcher of the Temple was
+still on his heels. The man, he was interested to see, played his part very
+unobtrusively, shambling along in nonchalant fashion, mostly hugging the sides
+of the houses, ready to dart out of sight into a doorway or down a side
+turning, should he by any mischance arrive too close on the heels of his
+quarry.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he walked along, Robin turned over in his mind the best means for getting
+rid of his shadow. Should he dive into a Tube station and plunge headlong down
+the steps? He rejected this idea as calculated to let the tracker know that his
+presence was suspected. Then he reviewed in his mind the various establishments
+he knew of in London with double entrances, thinking that he might slip in by
+the one entrance and emerge by the other.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In Pall Mall he came upon Tony Grandell, whom he had last seen playing bridge
+in the company dugout on the Flesquieres Ridge. Then he had been in
+&ldquo;battle order,&rdquo; camouflaged as a private soldier, as officers were
+ordered to go over the top in the latter phases of the war. Now he was
+resplendent in what the invitation cards call &ldquo;Morning Dress&rdquo;
+crowned by what must certainly have been the most relucent top-hat in London.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hullo, hullo, hullo!&rdquo; cried Tony, on catching sight of him;
+&ldquo;stand to your kits and so forth! And how is my merry company commander?
+Robin, dear, come and relieve the medieval gloom of lunch with my aunt at
+Mart&rsquo;s!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He linked his arm affectionately in Robin&rsquo;s.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mart&rsquo;s! Robin&rsquo;s brain snatched at the word. Mart&rsquo;s! most
+respectable of &ldquo;family hotels,&rdquo; wedged in between two quiet streets
+off Piccadilly with an entrance from both. If ever a man wanted to dodge a
+sleuth, especially a grimy tatterdemalion like the one sidling up Pall Mall
+behind them ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tony, old son,&rdquo; said Robin, &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t lunch with you
+even to set the board in a roar at your aunt&rsquo;s luncheon-party. But
+I&rsquo;ll walk up to Mart&rsquo;s with you, for I&rsquo;m going there myself
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They entered Mart&rsquo;s together and parted in the vestibule, where Tony
+gravely informed his &ldquo;dear old scream&rdquo; that he must fly to his
+&ldquo;avuncular luncheon.&rdquo; Robin walked quickly through the hotel and
+left by the other entrance. The street was almost deserted. Of the man with the
+dingy neckerchief there was no sign. Robin hurried into Piccadilly and hopped
+on a &rsquo;bus which put him down at his club facing the Green Park.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had a late lunch there and afterwards took a taxi back to the Temple. The
+daylight was failing as he crossed the courtyard in front of his chambers. In
+the centre the smoke-blackened plane-tree throned it in unchallenged solitude.
+But, as Robin&rsquo;s footsteps echoed across the flags, something more
+substantial than a shadow seemed to melt into the gathering dusk in the corner
+where the narrow passage ran.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin stopped to listen at the entrance to his chambers. As he stood there he
+heard a heavy tread on the stone steps within. He turned to face a solidly
+built swarthy-looking man who emerged from the building.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He favoured Robin with a leisurely, searching stare, then strode heavily across
+the courtyard to the little passage where he disappeared from view.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin looked after him. The man was a stranger: the occupants of the other
+chambers were all known to him. With a thoughtful expression on his face Robin
+entered the house and mounted to his rooms.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br />
+THE INTRUDER</h2>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;D&mdash;&mdash;!&rdquo; exclaimed Bruce Wright.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He stood in the great porch at Harkings, his finger on the electric bell. No
+sound came in response to the pressure, nor any one to open the door. Thus he
+had stood for fully ten minutes listening in vain for any sound within the
+house. All was still as death. He began to think that the bell was out of
+order. He had forgotten Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s insistence on quiet. All bells
+at Harkings rang, discreetly muted, in the servants&rsquo; hall.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He stepped out of the porch on to the drive. The weather had improved and,
+under a freshening wind, the country was drying up. As he reached the hard
+gravel, he heard footsteps, Bude appeared, his collar turned up, his
+swallow-tails floating in the wind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, be off with you!&rdquo; he cried as soon as he caught sight of the
+trim figure in the grey overcoat; &ldquo;how many more of ye have I to tell
+there&rsquo;s nothing for you to get here! Go on, get out before I put the dog
+on you!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He waved an imperious hand at Bruce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hullo, Bude,&rdquo; said the boy, &ldquo;you&rsquo;ve grown very
+inhospitable all of a sudden!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;God bless my soul if it isn&rsquo;t young Mr. Wright!&rdquo; exclaimed
+the butler. &ldquo;And I thought it was another of those dratted reporters.
+It&rsquo;s been ring, ring, ring the whole blessed morning, sir, you can
+believe me, as if they owned the place, wanting to interview me and Mr. Jeekes
+and Miss Trevert and the Lord knows who else. Lot of interfering busybodies,
+<i>I</i> call &rsquo;em! I&rsquo;d shut up all noospapers by law if I had my
+way ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is Mr. Jeekes here, Bude?&rdquo; asked Bruce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s gone off to London in the car, sir ... But won&rsquo;t you
+come in, Mr. Wright? If you wouldn&rsquo;t mind coming in by the side door. I
+have to keep the front door closed to shut them scribbling fellows out. One of
+them had the face to ask me to let him into the library to take a photograph
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He led the way round the side of the house to the glass door in the library
+corridor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is a sad business, Bude!&rdquo; said Bruce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, indeed, it is, sir,&rdquo; he sighed. &ldquo;He had his faults had
+Mr. Parrish, as well <i>you</i> know, Mr. Wright. But he was an open-handed
+gentleman, that I will say, and we&rsquo;ll all miss him at Harkings ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They were now in the corridor. Bude jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was in there they found him,&rdquo; he said in a low voice,
+&ldquo;with a hole plumb over the heart.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His voice sank to a whisper. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s blood on the carpet!&rdquo;
+he added impressively.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should like just to take a peep at the room, Bude,&rdquo; ventured the
+boy, casting a sidelong glance at the butler.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t be done, sir,&rdquo; said Bude, shaking his head;
+&ldquo;orders of Detective-Inspector Manderton. The police is very strict, Mr.
+Wright, sir!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There seems to be no one around just now, Bude,&rdquo; the young man
+wheedled. &ldquo;There can&rsquo;t be any harm in my just going in for a
+second?...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go in you should, Mr. Wright, sir,&rdquo; said the butler genially,
+&ldquo;if I had my way. But the door&rsquo;s locked. And, what&rsquo;s more,
+the police have the key.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is the detective anywhere about?&rdquo; asked Bruce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; answered Bude. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s gone off to town, too!
+And he don&rsquo;t expect to be back before the inquest. That&rsquo;s for
+Toosday!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But isn&rsquo;t there another key anywhere?&rdquo; persisted the boy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; said Bude positively, &ldquo;there isn&rsquo;t but the
+one. And that&rsquo;s in Mr. Manderton&rsquo;s vest pocket!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Young Wright wrinkled his brow in perplexity. He was very young, but he had a
+fine strain of perseverance in him. He was not nearly at the end of his
+resources, he told himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, then,&rdquo; he said suddenly, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going outside to
+have a look through the window. I remember you can see into the library from
+the path round the house!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He darted out, the butler, protesting, lumbering along behind him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Wright,&rdquo; he panted as he ran, &ldquo;you didn&rsquo;t reelly
+ought ... If any one should come ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Bruce Wright was already at the window. The butler found him leaning on the
+sill, peering with an air of frightened curiosity into the empty room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The glazier from Stevenish&rdquo;&mdash;Bude&rsquo;s voice breathed the
+words hoarsely in Wright&rsquo;s ear&mdash;&ldquo;is coming to-morrow morning
+to put the window in. He wouldn&rsquo;t come to-day, him being a chapel-goer
+and religious. It was there we found poor Mr. Parrish&mdash;d&rsquo;you see,
+sir, just between the window and the desk!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Bruce Wright did not heed him. His eyes were fixed on the big writing-desk,
+on the line of black japanned letter-trays set out in orderly array. Outside,
+the short winter afternoon was drawing in fast, and the light was failing.
+Dusky shadows within the library made it difficult to distinguish objects
+clearly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A voice close at hand cried out sharply:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Bude! Mr. Bu-u-ude!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;re calling me!&rdquo; whispered the butler in his ear with a
+tug at his sleeve; &ldquo;come away, sir!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Bruce shook him off. He heard the man&rsquo;s heavy tread on the gravel,
+then a door slam.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+How dark the room was growing, to be sure! Strain his eyes as he might, he
+could not get a clear view of the contents of the letter-trays on the desk. But
+their high backs hid their contents from his eyes. Even when he hoisted himself
+on to the window-sill he could not get a better view.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He dropped back on to the gravel path and listened. The wind soughed sadly in
+the bare tree-tops, somewhere in the distance a dog barked hoarsely,
+insistently; otherwise not a sound was to be heard. He cast a cautious glance
+round the side of the house. The glass door was shut; the lamp in the corridor
+had not been lit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hoisting himself up to the window-sill again, he crooked one knee on the rough
+edge and thrusting one arm through the broken pane of glass, unbolted the
+window. Then, steadying himself with one hand, with the other he very gently
+pushed up the window, threw his legs across the sill, and dropped into the
+library. Very deliberately, he turned and pushed the window softly down behind
+him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Some unconscious prompting, perhaps an unfamiliar surface beneath his feet,
+made him look down. Where his feet rested on the mole-grey carpet a wide dark
+patch stood out from the delicate shade of the rug. For a moment a spasm of
+physical nausea caught him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How beastly!&rdquo; he whispered to himself and took a step towards the
+desk.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s desk was arranged just as he always remembered it to
+have been. All the letter-trays save one were empty. In that was a little pile
+of papers held down by a massive marble paper-weight. Quickly he stepped round
+the desk.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had put out his hand to lift the weight when there was a gentle rattle at
+the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce Wright wheeled instantly round, back to the desk, to face the door,
+which, in the gathering dusk, was now but a squarer patch of darkness among the
+shadows at the far end of the library. He stood absolutely still, rooted to the
+spot, his heart thumping so fast that, in that silent room, he could hear the
+rapid beats.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Some one was unlocking the library door. As realization came to the boy, he
+tiptoed rapidly round the desk, the sound of his feet muffled by the heavy pile
+carpet, and reached the window. There was a click as the lock of the door was
+shot back. Without further hesitation Bruce stepped behind the long curtains
+which fell from the top of the window to the floor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The curtains, of some heavy grey material, were quite opaque. Bruce realized,
+with a sinking heart, that he must depend on his ears to discover the identity
+of this mysterious interloper. He dared not look out from his
+hiding-place&mdash;at least not until he could be sure that the newcomer had
+his back to the window. He remained, rigid and vigilant, straining his ears to
+catch the slightest sound, scarcely daring to breathe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He heard the door open, heard it softly close again. Then ... silence. Not
+another sound. The boy remembered the heavy pile carpet and cursed his luck. He
+would have to risk a peep round the curtains. But not yet! He must wait ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A very slight rustling, a faint prolonged rustling, caught his ear. It came
+nearer, then stopped. There was a little rattling noise from somewhere close at
+hand, a small clinking sound.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then silence fell again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The wind whooshed sadly round the house, the window clattered dismally in its
+frame, the curtains tugged fretfully before the cold breeze which blew in at
+the broken pane. But the silence in the room was absolute.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It began to oppress the boy. It frightened him. He felt an uncontrollable
+desire to look out into the room and establish the identity of the mysterious
+entrant. He glided his hand towards the window-frame in the hope that he might
+find a chink between curtain and wall through which he might risk a peep into
+the room. But the curtain was fastened to the wall.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The room was almost entirely dark now. Only behind him was a patch of grey
+light where the lowering evening sky was framed in the window. He began to draw
+the curtain very slowly towards him, at the same time leaning to the right.
+Very cautiously he applied one eye to the edge of the curtain.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he did so a bright light struck him full in the face. It streamed full from
+a lamp on the desk and almost blinded him. It was a reading-lamp and the bulb
+had been turned up so as to throw a beam on the curtain behind which the boy
+was sheltering.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Behind the desk, straining back in terror, stood a slim, girlish figure. The
+details of her dress were lost in the gathering shadows, but her face stood out
+in the gloom, a pale oval. Bruce could see the dark line made by the lashes on
+her cheek.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the sight of her, he stepped boldly forth from his hiding-place, shielding
+his eyes from the light with his hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s Bruce Wright, Miss Trevert,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;don&rsquo;t you remember me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br />
+A FRESH CLUE</h2>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried the girl, &ldquo;you frightened me! You frightened me!
+What do you want here ... in this horrible room?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was trembling. One slim hand plucked nervously at her dress. Her breath
+came and went quickly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I saw the curtain move. I thought it was the wind at first. But then I
+saw the outline of your fingers. And I imagined it was he ... come back
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Trevert,&rdquo; said the boy abashed, &ldquo;I must have frightened
+you terribly. I had no idea it was you!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why are you hiding here? How did you get in? What do you want in
+this house?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She spoke quickly, nervously. Some papers she held in her hand shook with her
+emotion. Bruce Wright stepped to the desk and turned the bulb of the
+reading-lamp down into its normal position.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must apologize most sincerely for the fright I gave you,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;But, believe me, Miss Trevert, I had no idea that anybody could
+gain access to this room. I climbed in through the window. Bude told me that
+the police had taken away the key ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl made an impatient gesture.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why have you come here?&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;What do you
+want?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy measured her with a narrow glance. He was young, but he was shrewd. He
+saw her frank eyes, her candid, open mien, and he took a rapid decision.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think I have come,&rdquo; he answered slowly, &ldquo;for the same
+purpose as yourself!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And he looked at the papers in her hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I used to be Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s secretary, you know,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl sighed&mdash;a little fluttering sigh&mdash;and looked earnestly at
+him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I remember,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Hartley liked you. He was sorry that
+he sent you away. He often spoke of you to me. But why have you come back? What
+do you mean by saying you have come for the same purpose as myself?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce Wright looked at the array of letter-trays. The marble paper-weight had
+been displaced. The tray in which it had lain was empty. He looked at the sheaf
+of papers in the girl&rsquo;s hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wanted to see,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;whether there was anything
+here ... on his desk ... which would explain the mystery of his death
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl spread out the papers in her hand on the big blotter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She laid the papers out in a row and leant forward, her white arms resting on
+the desk. From the other side of the desk the boy leant eagerly forward and
+scanned the line of papers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the first glimpse his face fell. The girl, eyeing him closely, marked the
+change which came over his features.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There were seven papers of various kinds, both printed and written, and they
+were all on white paper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy shook his head and swept the papers together into a heap.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not there?&rdquo; queried the girl eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No!&rdquo; said Bruce absent-mindedly, glancing round the desk.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What isn&rsquo;t?&rdquo; flashed back the girl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce Wright felt his face redden with vexation. What sort of a confidential
+emissary was he to fall into a simple trap like this?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl smiled rather wanly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now I know what you meant by saying you had come for the same purpose as
+myself,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I suppose we both thought we might find
+something, a letter, perhaps, which would explain why Mr. Parrish did this
+dreadful thing, something to relieve this awful uncertainty about ... about his
+motive. Well, I&rsquo;ve searched the desk ... and there&rsquo;s nothing!
+Nothing but just these prospectuses and receipts which were in the letter-tray
+here. They must have come by the post yesterday morning. And there&rsquo;s
+nothing of any importance in the drawers ... only household receipts and the
+wages book and a few odd things like that! You can see for yourself ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The lower part of the desk consisted of three drawers flanked on either side by
+cupboards. Mary Trevert pulled out the drawers and opened the cupboards. Two of
+the drawers were entirely empty and one of the cupboards contained nothing but
+a stack of cigar boxes. One drawer held various papers appertaining to the
+house. There was no sign of any letter written on the slatey-blue paper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy looked very hard at Mary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You say there was nothing in the letter-tray but these papers
+here?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing but these,&rdquo; replied the girl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t notice any official-looking letter on bluish
+paper?&rdquo; he ventured to ask.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered the girl. &ldquo;I found nothing but these.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy thought for a moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;whether the police or anybody have
+been through the desk?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know at all,&rdquo; said Mary, smoothing back a lock of
+hair from her temple; &ldquo;I daresay Mr. Jeekes had a look round, as he had a
+meeting with Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s lawyer in town this afternoon!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had lost all trace of her fright and was now quite calm and collected.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know for certain whether Mr. Jeekes was in here?&rdquo; asked
+Bruce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes. The first thing he did on arriving last night was to go to the
+library.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose Jeekes is coming back here to-night?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No, she told him. Mr. Jeekes did not expect to return to Harkings until the
+inquest on Tuesday.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce Wright picked up his hat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must apologize again, Miss Trevert,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;for making
+such an unconventional entrance and giving you such a fright. But I felt I
+could not rest until I had investigated matters for myself. I would have
+presented myself in the ordinary way, but, as I told you, Bude told me the
+police had locked up the room and taken away the key ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert smiled forgivingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So they did,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;But Jay&mdash;Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s
+man, you know&mdash;had another key. He brought it to me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She looked at Bruce with a whimsical little smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must have been very uncomfortable behind those curtains,&rdquo; she
+said. &ldquo;I believe you were just as frightened as I was.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She walked round the desk to the window.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was a good hiding-place,&rdquo; she remarked, &ldquo;but not much
+good as an observation post. Why! you could see nothing of the room. The
+curtains are much too thick!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a thing,&rdquo; Bruce agreed rather ruefully. &ldquo;I thought you
+were the detective!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He held out his hand to take his leave with a smile. He was a charming-looking
+boy with a remarkably serene expression which went well with close-cropped
+golden hair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert did not take his hand for an instant. Looking down at the point of
+her small black suede shoe she said shyly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Wright, you are a friend of Mr. Greve, aren&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rather!&rdquo; was the enthusiastic answer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you see him often?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy&rsquo;s eyes narrowed suddenly. Was this a cross-examination?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;every now and then!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert raised her eyes to his.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you do something for me?&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Tell Mr. Greve not
+to trust Manderton. He will know whom I mean. Tell him to be on his guard
+against that man. Say he means mischief. Tell him, above all things, to be
+careful. Make him go away ... go abroad until this thing has blown over
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She spoke with intense earnestness, her dark eyes fixed on Bruce Wright&rsquo;s
+face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But promise me you won&rsquo;t say this comes from me! Do you
+understand? There are reasons, very strong reasons, for this. Will you
+promise?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She took Bruce&rsquo;s outstretched hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I promise,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mustn&rsquo;t go without tea,&rdquo; said the girl.
+&ldquo;Besides,&rdquo;&mdash;she glanced at a little platinum watch on her
+wrist,&mdash;&ldquo;there&rsquo;s not another train until six. There is no need
+for you to start yet. I don&rsquo;t like being left alone. Mother has one of
+her headaches, and Horace and Dr. Romain have gone to Stevenish. Come up to my
+sitting-room!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She led the way out of the library, locking the door behind them, and together
+they went up to the Chinese boudoir where tea was laid on a low table before a
+bright fire. In the dainty room with its bright colours they seemed far removed
+from the tragedy which had darkened Harkings.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They had finished tea when a tap came at the door. Bude appeared. He cast a
+reproachful look at Bruce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jay would be glad to have a word with you, Miss,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl excused herself and left the room. She was absent for about ten
+minutes. When she returned, she had a little furrow of perplexity between her
+brows. She walked over to the open fireplace and stood silent for an instant,
+her foot tapping the hearth-rug.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Wright,&rdquo; she said presently, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to tell
+you something that Jay has just told me. I want your advice ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy looked at her interrogatively. But he did not speak.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think this is rather important,&rdquo; the girl went on, &ldquo;but I
+don&rsquo;t quite understand in what way it is. Jay tells me that Mr. Parrish
+had on his pistol a sort of steel fitting attached to the end ... you know, the
+part you shoot out of. Mr. Parrish used to keep his automatic in a drawer in
+his dressing-room, and Jay has often seen it there with this attachment fitted
+on. Well, when Mr. Parrish was discovered in the library yesterday, this thing
+was no longer on the pistol. And Jay says it&rsquo;s not to be found!...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s rather strange!&rdquo; commented Bruce. &ldquo;But what was
+this steel contraption for, do you know? Was it a patent sight or
+something?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jay doesn&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; answered the girl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Would you mind if I spoke to Jay myself?&rdquo; asked the young man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In reply the girl touched the bell beside the fireplace. Bude answered the
+summons and was despatched to find Jay. He appeared in due course, a tall,
+dark, sleek young man wearing a swallow-tail coat and striped trousers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How are you, Jay?&rdquo; said Bruce affably.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well, thank you, sir,&rdquo; replied the valet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Trevert was telling me about this appliance which you say Mr.
+Parrish had on his automatic. Could you describe it to me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir,&rdquo; answered the man rather haltingly, &ldquo;it was a
+little sort of cup made of steel or gun-metal fitting closely over the barrel
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you don&rsquo;t know what it was for?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was it a sight, do you think?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t say, I&rsquo;m sure, sir!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know what a sight looks like, I suppose. Was there a bead on it or
+anything like it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t say, I&rsquo;m sure, sir. I never gave any particular heed
+to it. I used to see the automatic lying in the drawer of the wardrobe in Mr.
+Parrish&rsquo;s room in a wash-leather case. I noticed this steel appliance,
+sir, because the case wouldn&rsquo;t shut over the pistol with it on and the
+butt used to stick out.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When did you last notice Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s automatic?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would be Thursday or Friday, sir. I went to that drawer to get Mr.
+Parrish an old stock to go riding in as some new ones he had bought were stiff
+and hurt him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And this steel cup was on the pistol then?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes, sir!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you say it was not on the pistol when Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s body was
+found?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you sure of this?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir. I was one of the first in the room, and I saw the pistol in
+Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s hand, and there was no sign of the cup, sir. So I&rsquo;ve
+had a good look among his things and I can&rsquo;t find it anywhere!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce Wright pondered a minute.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Try and think, Jay,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;if you can&rsquo;t remember
+anything more about this steel cup, as you call it. Where did Mr. Parrish buy
+it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t say, I&rsquo;m sure, sir. He had it before ever I took
+service with him!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Jay put his hand to his forehead for an instant.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now I come to think of it,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;there was the name of
+the shop or maker on it, stamped on the steel. &lsquo;Maxim,&rsquo; that was
+the name, now I put my mind back, with a number ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maxim?&rdquo; echoed Bruce Wright. &ldquo;Did you say Maxim?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir! That was the name!&rdquo; replied the valet impassively.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Jove!&rdquo; said the boy half to himself. Then he said aloud to Jay:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you tell the police about this?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Jay looked somewhat uncomfortable.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Jay looked at Mary Trevert.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir, I thought perhaps I&rsquo;d better tell Miss Trevert first.
+Bude thought so, too. That there Manderton has made so much unpleasantness in
+the house with his prying ways that I said to myself, sir ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce Wright looked at Mary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Would you mind if I asked Jay not to say anything about this to anybody
+just for the present?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You hear what Mr. Wright says, Jay,&rdquo; said Mary. &ldquo;I
+don&rsquo;t want you to say anything about this matter just yet. Do you
+understand?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Miss. Will that be all, Miss?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, thank you, Jay!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thanks very much, Jay,&rdquo; said the boy. &ldquo;This may be
+important. Mum&rsquo;s the word, though!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I <i>quite</i> understand, sir,&rdquo; answered the valet and left the
+room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hardly had the door closed on him than the girl turned eagerly to Bruce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It <i>is</i> important?&rdquo; she asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It may be,&rdquo; was the guarded reply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t leave me in the dark like this,&rdquo; the girl pleaded.
+&ldquo;This horrible affair goes on growing and growing, and at every step it
+seems more bewildering ... more ghastly. Tell me where it is leading, Mr.
+Wright! I can&rsquo;t stand the suspense much more!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her voice broke, and she turned her face away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must be brave, Miss Trevert,&rdquo; said the boy, putting his hand
+on her shoulder. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t ask me to tell you more now. Your friends
+are working to get at the truth ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The truth!&rdquo; cried the girl. &ldquo;God knows where the truth will
+lead us!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce Wright hesitated a moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think you have any need to fear the truth!&rdquo; he said
+presently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl took her handkerchief from her face and looked at him with brimming
+eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know more than you let me think you did,&rdquo; she said brokenly.
+&ldquo;But you are a friend of mine, aren&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Bruce, and added boldly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And of his too!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She did not speak again, but gave him her hand. He clasped it and went out
+hurriedly to catch his train back to London.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br />
+THE SILENT SHOT</h2>
+
+<p>
+That faithful servitor of Fleet Street, the Law Courts clock, had just finished
+striking seven. It boomed out the hour, stroke by stroke, solemnly, inexorably,
+like a grim old judge summing up and driving home, point by point, an
+irrefutable charge. The heavy strokes broke in upon the fitful doze into which
+Robin Greve, stretched out in an armchair in his living-room, had dropped.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He roused up with a start. There was the click of a key in the lock of his
+front door. Bruce Wright burst into the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy shut the door quickly and locked it. He was rather pale and seemed
+perturbed. On seeing Robin he jerked his head in the direction of the
+courtyard.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose you know they&rsquo;re still outside?&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin nodded nonchalantly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There are three of them now,&rdquo; the boy went on. &ldquo;Robin, I
+don&rsquo;t like it. Something&rsquo;s going to happen. You&rsquo;ll want to
+mind yourself ... if it&rsquo;s not too late already!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He stepped across to the window and bending down, peered cautiously round the
+curtain.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin Greve laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bah!&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;they can&rsquo;t touch me!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re wrong,&rdquo; Bruce retorted without changing his position.
+&ldquo;They can and they will. Don&rsquo;t think Manderton is a fool, Robin. He
+means mischief ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin raised his eyebrows.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Does he?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Now I wonder who told you that
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Friends of yours at Harkings asked me to warn you ...&rdquo; began Bruce
+awkwardly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My friends are scarcely in the majority there,&rdquo; retorted Robin.
+&ldquo;Whom do you mean exactly?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the boy ignored the question.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Three men watching the house!&rdquo; he exclaimed; &ldquo;don&rsquo;t
+you think that <i>this</i> looks as though Manderton meant business?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He returned to his post of observation at the curtain.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin laughed cynically.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Manderton doesn&rsquo;t worry me any,&rdquo; he said cheerfully.
+&ldquo;The man&rsquo;s the victim of an <i>idée fixe</i>. He believes Parrish
+killed himself just as firmly as he believes that I frightened or bullied
+Parrish into doing it ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be too sure about that, Robin,&rdquo; said the boy, dropping
+the curtain and coming back to Robin&rsquo;s chair. &ldquo;He may want you to
+think that. But how can we tell how much he knows?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin flicked the ash off his cigarette disdainfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;These promoted policemen make me tired,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce Wright shook his head quickly with a little gesture of exasperation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t understand,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s fresh
+evidence ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin Greve looked up with real interest in his eyes. His bantering manner had
+vanished.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got that letter?&rdquo; he asked eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, not that,&rdquo; he said. Then leaning forward he added in a low
+voice:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you ever heard of the Maxim silencer?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe I have, vaguely,&rdquo; replied Robin. &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it
+something to do with a motor engine?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Bruce. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s an extraordinary invention
+which absolutely suppresses the noise of the discharge of a gun.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin shot a quick glance at the speaker.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a marvelous thing, really,&rdquo; the boy continued, warming
+to his theme. &ldquo;A man at Havre had one when I was at the base there,
+during the war. It&rsquo;s a little cup-shaped steel fitting that goes over the
+barrel. You can fire a rifle fitted with one of these silencers in a small room
+and it makes no more noise than a fairly loud sneeze ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin was listening intently now.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Parrish had a Maxim silencer,&rdquo; Bruce went on impressively.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>Parrish</i> had?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was fitted on his automatic pistol, the one he had in his hand when
+they found him ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There was no attachment of any kind on the gun Parrish was holding when
+he was discovered yesterday afternoon,&rdquo; declared Robin positively;
+&ldquo;I can vouch for that. I was there almost immediately after they found
+him. And if there had been anything of the kind Horace Trevert would certainly
+have mentioned it ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know. Jay, who came in soon after you, was surprised to see that the
+silencer was not on the pistol. And he made a point of looking for it
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But how do you know that Parrish had it on the pistol?...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, we don&rsquo;t know for certain. But we do know that it was
+permanently fitted to his automatic. Jay has often seen it. And if Parrish did
+remove it, he didn&rsquo;t leave it lying around any where. Jay has looked all
+through his things without finding it ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When did Jay see it last?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;On Thursday!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But are you sure that this is the same pistol as the one which Jay has
+been in the habit of seeing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jay is absolutely sure. He says that Parrish only had the one automatic
+which he always kept in the same drawer in his dressing-room ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin was silent for a moment. Very deliberately he filled his pipe, lit it,
+and drew until it burned comfortably. Then he said slowly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This means that Hartley Parrish was murdered, Bruce, old man. All
+through I have been puzzling my mind to reconcile the unquestionable
+circumstance that two bullets were fired&mdash;I told you of the bullet mark I
+found on the upright in the rosery&mdash;with the undoubted fact that only one
+report was heard. We can therefore presume, either that Hartley Parrish first
+fired one shot from his pistol with the silencer fitted and then removed the
+silencer and fired another shot without it, thereby killing himself, or that
+the second shot was fired by the person whose interest it was to get rid of the
+silencer. There is no possible or plausible reason why Parrish should have
+fired first one shot with the silencer and then one without. Therefore, I find
+myself irresistibly compelled to the conclusion that the shot heard by Mary
+Trevert was fired by the person who killed Parrish. Do I make myself
+clear?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perfectly,&rdquo; answered Bruce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, then,&rdquo; the barrister proceeded, thoughtfully puffing at his
+pipe, &ldquo;one weak point about my deductions is that they all hang on the
+question as to whether, at the time of the tragedy, Parrish actually had the
+silencer on his pistol or not. That is really the acid test of
+Manderton&rsquo;s suicide theory. You said, I think, that a rifle fired with
+the silencer attachment makes no more noise than the sound of a loud
+sneeze!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right,&rdquo; agreed Bruce; &ldquo;a sort of harsh,
+spluttering noise. Not so loud either, Robin. Ph ... t-t-t! Like that!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Loud enough to be heard through a door, would you say?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I think so!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin thought intently for a moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then Mary is the only one who can put us right on that point. Assuming
+that two shots were fired&mdash;and that bullet mark in the rosery is, I think,
+conclusive on that head&mdash;and knowing that she heard the loud report of the
+one, presumably, if Parrish had the silencer on his automatic, Mary must have
+heard the <i>muffled</i> report of the other. What it comes to is this, Mary
+heard the shot fired that killed Parrish. Did she hear the shot he fired at his
+murderer?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Gad!&rdquo; exclaimed Bruce Wright impressively, &ldquo;I believe
+you&rsquo;ve got it, Robin! Parrish fired at somebody at the window&mdash;a
+silent shot&mdash;and the other fellow fired back the shot that Mary Trevert
+heard, the shot that killed Parrish. Isn&rsquo;t that the way you figure it
+out?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not so fast, young man,&rdquo; remarked Robin. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s first
+find out whether Mary actually heard the muffled shot and, if so, <i>when ...
+before</i> or <i>after</i> the loud report.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He glanced across at the window and then at Bruce,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose this discovery about the silencer is responsible for the
+deputation waiting in the courtyard,&rdquo; he said drily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The police don&rsquo;t know about it yet,&rdquo; replied Bruce;
+&ldquo;at least they didn&rsquo;t when I left.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin shook his head dubiously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If the servants know it, Manderton will worm it out of them.
+Hasn&rsquo;t he cross-examined Jay?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Bruce. &ldquo;But he got nothing out of him about this.
+Manderton seems to have put everybody&rsquo;s back up. He gets nothing out of
+the servants ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If Parrish had had this silencer for some time, you may be sure that
+other people know about it. These silencers must be pretty rare in England. You
+see, an average person like myself didn&rsquo;t know what it was. By the way,
+another point which we haven&rsquo;t yet cleared up is this: supposing we are
+right in believing Parrish to have been murdered, how do you explain the fact
+that the bullet removed from his body fitted his pistol?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a puzzler, I must say!&rdquo; said Bruce.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s only one possible explanation, I think,&rdquo; Robin went
+on, &ldquo;and that is that Parrish was shot by a pistol of exactly the same
+calibre as his own. For the murderer to have killed Parrish with his own weapon
+would have been difficult without a struggle. But Miss Trevert heard no
+struggle. For murderer and his victim to have pistols of the same calibre
+argues a rather remarkable coincidence, I grant you. But then life is full of
+coincidences! We meet them every day in the law. Though, I admit, this is a
+coincidence which requires some explaining ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He fell into a brown study which Bruce interrupted by suddenly remembering that
+he had had no lunch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For answer Robin pointed at the sideboard.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s a cloth in there,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;also the whisky,
+if my laundress has left any, and a siphon and there should be some
+claret&mdash;Mrs. Bragg doesn&rsquo;t care about red wine. Set the table, and
+I&rsquo;ll take a root round in the kitchen and dig up some tinned
+stuff.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They supped off a tinned tongue and some <i>pâté de foie gras</i>. Over their
+meal Bruce told Robin of his adventure in the library at Harkings.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jeekes must have collected that letter,&rdquo; Bruce said. &ldquo;Before
+I came to you, I went to Lincoln&rsquo;s Inn Fields to see if he was still at
+Bardy&rsquo;s&mdash;Parrish&rsquo;s solicitor, you know. But the office was
+closed, and the place in darkness. I went on to the Junior Pantheon,
+that&rsquo;s Jeekes&rsquo;s club, but he wasn&rsquo;t in. He hadn&rsquo;t been
+there all day, the porter told me. So I left a note asking him to ring you up
+here ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The case reeks of blackmail,&rdquo; said Robin thoughtfully, &ldquo;but
+I am wondering how much we shall glean from this precious letter when we do see
+it. I am glad you asked Jeekes to ring me up, though. He should be able to tell
+us something about these mysterious letters on the blue paper that used to put
+Parrish in such a stew ... Hullo, who can that be?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+An electric bell trilled through the flat. It rang once ... twice ... and then
+a third time, a long, insistent peal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;See who&rsquo;s there, will you, Bruce?&rdquo; said Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Suppose it&rsquo;s the police ...&rdquo; began the boy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You can say I&rsquo;m at home and ask them in,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He heard the heavy oaken door swing open, a murmur of voices in the hall. The
+next moment Detective-Inspector Manderton entered the sitting-room.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<br />
+MR. MANDERTON LAYS HIS CARDS ON THE TABLE</h2>
+
+<p>
+The detective&rsquo;s manner had undergone some subtle change which Robin,
+watching him closely as he came into the room, was quick to note. Mr. Manderton
+made an effort to retain his old air of rather patronizing swagger; but he
+seemed less sure of himself than was his wont. In fact, he appeared to be a
+little anxious.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He walked briskly into the sitting-room and looked quickly from Bruce to Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Greve,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you can help me if you will by
+answering a few questions ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With another glance at Bruce Wright he added:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;... in private.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce, obedient to a sign from Robin, said he would ring up in the morning and
+prepared to take his leave. Robin turned to the detective.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There are some of your men, I believe,&rdquo; he said coldly,
+&ldquo;watching this house. Would it be asking too much to request that my
+friend here might be permitted to return home unescorted?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He needn&rsquo;t worry,&rdquo; replied Manderton with a significant
+smile. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s no one outside now!...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They watched Bruce Wright pass into the hall and collect his hat and coat. As
+the front door slammed behind him, the detective added:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I took &rsquo;em off myself soon after seven o&rsquo;clock!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo; asked Robin bluntly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton dropped his heavy form into a chair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m a plain man, Mr. Greve,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and I&rsquo;m
+not above owning to it, I hope, when I&rsquo;m wrong. For some little time now
+it has struck me that our lines of investigation run parallel ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Instead of crossing!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Instead of crossing&mdash;exactly!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a pity you did not grasp that very obvious fact
+earlier,&rdquo; observed Robin pointedly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton crossed one leg over the other and, his finger-tips pressed
+together, looked at Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you help me?&rdquo; he asked simply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you want my help?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Allies, then?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Allies it is!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin pointed to the table.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s dry work talking,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you take
+a drink?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thanks, I don&rsquo;t drink. But I&rsquo;ll have a cigar if I may. Thank
+you!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The detective helped himself to a cheroot from a box on the table and lit up.
+Then, affecting to scan the end of his cigar with great attention, he asked
+abruptly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you know of the woman calling herself Madame de Malpas?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin pursed up his lips rather disdainfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One of the late Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s lady friends,&rdquo; he replied.
+&ldquo;I expect you know that!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know where she lives?&rdquo; pursued the detective, ignoring the
+implied question.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She&rsquo;s dead.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A flicker of interest appeared for an instant in Mr. Manderton&rsquo;s keen
+eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re sure of that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; answered Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who told you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Le Hagen&mdash;the solicitor, you know. He acted for this Malpas woman
+on one or two occasions.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When did she die?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Six or seven months ago ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did Jeekes know about it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jeekes? Do you mean Parrish&rsquo;s secretary?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s funny your asking that. As a matter of fact, it was through
+Jeekes that I heard the lady was dead. I was in Le Hagen&rsquo;s office one day
+when Jeekes came in, and Le Hagen told me Jeekes had come to pay in a cheque
+for the cost of the funeral and the transport of the body to France.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This was six or seven months ago, you say? I take it, then, that any
+allowance that Parrish was in the habit of making to this woman has
+ceased?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I tell you the lady is dead!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then what would you say if I informed you that Mr. Jeekes had declared
+that these payments were still going on ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should say he was lying ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I agree. But why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whom did he tell this to?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Trevert!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Trevert?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin repeated the name in amazement.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t understand,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Why on earth should
+Jeekes blacken his employer&rsquo;s character to Miss Trevert? What conceivable
+motive could he have had? Did she tell you this?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Manderton; &ldquo;I heard him tell her myself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you mean to tell me,&rdquo; protested Robin, growing more and more
+puzzled, &ldquo;that Jeekes told Miss Trevert this offensive and deliberate lie
+in your presence!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; remarked Mr. Manderton slowly, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know
+about his saying this in my presence exactly. But I heard him tell her for all
+that. Walls have ears, you know&mdash;particularly if the door is ajar!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked shrewdly at Robin, then dropped his eyes to the floor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He also told her that Le Hagen and you were in business relations
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin sat up at this.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he said shortly. &ldquo;I see what you&rsquo;re getting at
+now. Our friend has been trying to set Miss Trevert against me, eh? But why? I
+don&rsquo;t even know this man Jeekes except to have nodded
+&lsquo;Good-morning&rsquo; to him a few times. Why on earth should he of all
+men go out of his way to slander me to Miss Trevert, to throw suspicion
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He broke off short and looked at the detective.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton caressed his big black moustache.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he repeated suavely, &ldquo;you were saying &lsquo;to cast
+suspicion&rsquo; ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The eyes of the two men met. Then the detective leaned back in his chair and,
+blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips, said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Greve, you&rsquo;ve been thinking ahead of me on this case. What
+you&rsquo;ve told me so far I&rsquo;ve checked. And you&rsquo;re right. Dead
+right. And since you&rsquo;re, in a manner of speaking, one of the parties
+interested in getting things cleared up, I&rsquo;d like you to tell me just
+simply what idea you&rsquo;ve formed about it ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Gladly,&rdquo; answered the barrister. &ldquo;And to start with let me
+tell you that the case stinks of blackmail ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Steady on,&rdquo; interposed the detective. &ldquo;I thought so, too, at
+first. I&rsquo;ve been into all that. Mr. Parrish made a clean break with the
+last of his lady friends about two months since; and, as far as our
+investigations go, there has been no blackmail in connection with any of his
+women pals. Vine Street knows all about Master Parrish. There were complaints
+about some of his little parties up in town. But I don&rsquo;t believe
+there&rsquo;s a woman in this case ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t say there was,&rdquo; retorted Robin. &ldquo;The
+blackmail is probably being levied from Holland. A threat of violence was
+finally carried into effect on Saturday evening between 5 and 5.15 P.M. by some
+one conversant with the lie of the land at Harkings. This individual, armed
+with an automatic Browning of the same calibre as Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s, shot at
+Parrish through the open window of the library and killed him&mdash;probably in
+self-defence, after Parrish had had a shot at him ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Steady there, whoa!&rdquo; said Mr. Manderton in a jocular way clearly
+expressive of his incredulity; &ldquo;there was only one shot ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There were <i>two</i>,&rdquo; was Robin&rsquo;s dispassionate reply.
+&ldquo;Though maybe only one was heard. Parrish had a Maxim silencer on his gun
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton was now thoroughly alert.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How did you find that out?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jay, Parrish&rsquo;s man, came forward and volunteered this evidence
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He said nothing about it when I questioned him,&rdquo; grumbled the
+detective.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re a terror to the confirmed criminal, they tell me,
+Manderton,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but you obviously don&rsquo;t understand that
+complicated mechanism known as the domestic servant. No servant at Harkings
+will voluntarily tell <i>you</i> anything ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton, who had stood up, shook his big frame impatiently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Explain the rest of your theories,&rdquo; he said harshly.
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s all this about blackmail being levied from Holland?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Robin Greve told him of the letters written on the slatey-blue paper and
+of their effect upon Parrish, and of the letter headed, &ldquo;Elias van der
+Spyck &amp; Co., General Importers, Rotterdam,&rdquo; which had lain on the
+desk in the library when Parrish&rsquo;s dead body had been found.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Manderton nodded gloomily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was there right enough,&rdquo; he remarked. &ldquo;I saw it. A letter
+about steel shipments and the dockers&rsquo; strike, wasn&rsquo;t it? As there
+seemed nothing to it, I left it with the other papers for Jeekes, the secretary
+chap. But what evidence is there that this was blackmail?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This,&rdquo; said Robin, and showed the detective the sheet of blue
+paper with its series of slits. &ldquo;Manderton,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;these
+letters written on this blue paper were in code, I feel sure. Why should not
+this be the key? You see it bears a date&mdash;&lsquo;Nov. 25.&rsquo; May it
+not refer to that letter? I found it by Parrish&rsquo;s body on the carpet in
+the library. I would have given it to you at Harkings, but I shoved it in my
+pocket and forgot all about it until I was in the train coming up to town this
+morning.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton took the sheet of paper, turned it over, and held it up to the
+light. Then, without comment, he put it away in the pocket of his jacket.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If Parrish killed himself,&rdquo; Robin went on earnestly, &ldquo;that
+letter drove him to it. If, on the other hand, he was murdered, may not that
+letter have contained a warning?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should prefer to suspend judgment until we&rsquo;ve seen the letter,
+Mr. Greve,&rdquo; said the detective bluntly. &ldquo;We must get it from
+Jeekes. In the meantime, what makes you think that the murderer (to follow up
+your theory) was conversant with the lay of the land at Harkings?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because,&rdquo; answered Robin, &ldquo;the murderer left no tracks on
+the grass or flower-beds. He stuck to the hard gravel path throughout. That
+path, which runs from the drive through the rosery to the gravel path round the
+house just under the library window, is precious hard to find in the dark,
+especially where it leaves the drive, as at the outset it is a mere thread
+between the rhododendron bushes. And, as I know from experience, unless you are
+acquainted with the turns in the path, it is very easy to get off it in the
+dark, especially in the rosery, and go blundering on to the flower-beds. And
+I&rsquo;ll tell you something else about the murderer. He&mdash;or
+she&mdash;was of small stature&mdash;not much above five foot six in height.
+The upward diagonal course of the bullet through Parrish&rsquo;s heart shows
+that ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton shook his head dubiously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very ingenious,&rdquo; he commented. &ldquo;But you go rather fast, Mr.
+Greve. We must test your theory link by link. There may be an explanation for
+Jeekes&rsquo;s apparently inexplicable lie to the young lady. Let&rsquo;s see
+him and hear what he says. The grounds at Harkings must be searched for this
+second bullet, if second bullet there is, the mark on the tree examined by an
+expert. And since two bullets argue two pistols in this case, let us see what
+result we get from our enquiries as to where Mr. Parrish bought his pistol. He
+may have had two pistols ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If Parrish used a silencer,&rdquo; remarked Robin, quite undisconcerted
+by the other&rsquo;s lack of enthusiasm, &ldquo;and my theory that two shots
+were fired is correct, there must have been two reports, a loud one and a
+muffled one. Miss Trevert heard one report, as we know. Did she hear a
+second?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She said nothing about it,&rdquo; remarked the detective.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She was probably asked nothing about it. But we can get this point
+cleared up at once. There&rsquo;s the telephone. Ring up Harkings and ask her
+now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; said Mr. Manderton and moved to the telephone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There is little delay on the long-distance lines on a Sunday evening, and the
+call to Harkins came through almost at once. Bude answered the telephone at
+Harkings. Manderton asked for Miss Trevert. The butler replied that Miss
+Trevert was no longer at Harkings. She had gone to the Continent for a few
+days.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This plain statement, retailed in the fortissimo voice which Bude reserved for
+use on the telephone, produced a remarkable effect on the detective. He grew
+red in the face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s that?&rdquo; he cried assertively. &ldquo;Gone to the
+Continent? I should have been told about this. Why wasn&rsquo;t I informed?
+What part of the Continent has she gone to?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton&rsquo;s questions, rapped out with a rasping vigour that recalled
+a machine-gun firing, brought Robin to his feet in an instant. He crossed over
+to the desk on which the telephone stood.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Manderton placed one big palm over the transmitter and turned to Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She&rsquo;s gone to the Continent and left no address,&rdquo; he said
+quickly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ask him if Lady Margaret is there,&rdquo; suggested Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton spoke into the telephone again. Lady Margaret had gone to bed,
+Bude answered, and her ladyship was much put out by Miss Trevert gallivanting
+off like that by herself with only a scribbled note left to say that she had
+gone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Had Bude got the note?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No, Mr. Manderton, sir, he had not. But Lady Margaret had shown it to him. It
+had simply stated that Miss Trevert had gone off to the Continent and would be
+back in a few days.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again the detective turned to Robin at his elbow.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;These country bumpkins!&rdquo; he said savagely. &ldquo;I must go to the
+Yard and get Humphries on the &rsquo;phone. He may have telegraphed me about
+it. You stay here and I&rsquo;ll ring you later if there&rsquo;s any news. What
+do you make of it, Mr. Greve?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It beats me,&rdquo; was Robin&rsquo;s rueful comment. &ldquo;And what
+about the inquest? It&rsquo;s for Tuesday, isn&rsquo;t it? Miss Trevert will
+have to give evidence, I take it?...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Mr. Manderton, picking up his hat and speaking in an
+offhand way, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m getting <i>that</i> adjourned for a week!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The inquest adjourned! Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a twinkle in the detective&rsquo;s eye as he replied.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought, maybe, I might get further evidence ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin caught the expression and smiled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And when did you come to this decision, may I ask?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;After our little experiment in the garden this morning,&rdquo; was the
+detective&rsquo;s prompt reply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin looked at him fixedly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, see here,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;apparently it was to the
+deductions you formed from the result of that experiment that I owe the
+attentions of your colleagues who have been hanging round the house all day.
+And yet you now come to me and invite my assistance. Mr. Manderton, I
+don&rsquo;t get it at all!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Greve,&rdquo; replied the detective, &ldquo;Miss Trevert tried to
+shield you. That made me suspicious. You tried to force my investigations into
+an entirely new path. That deepened my suspicions. I believed it to be my duty
+to ascertain your movements after leaving Harkings. But then I heard Jeekes
+make an apparently gratuitously false statement to Miss Trevert with an
+implication against you. That, to some extent, cleared you in my eyes. I say
+&lsquo;to some extent&rsquo; because I will not deny that I thought I might be
+taking a risk in coming to you like this. You see I am frank!...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The smile had left Greve&rsquo;s face and he looked rather grim.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re pretty deep, aren&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; was his brief
+comment.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap20"></a>CHAPTER XX.<br />
+THE CODE KING</h2>
+
+<p>
+Major Euan MacTavish was packing. A heavy and well-worn leather portmanteau,
+much adorned with foreign luggage labels, stood in the centre of the floor.
+From a litter of objects piled up on a side table the Major was transferring to
+it various brown-paper packages which he checked by a list in his hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Major always packed for himself. He packed with the neatness and rapidity
+derived from long experience of travel. As a matter of fact, he could not
+afford a manservant any more than he could allow himself quarters more
+luxurious than the rather grimy bedroom in Bury Street which housed him during
+his transient appearances in town. The remuneration doled out by the Foreign
+Office to the quiet and unobtrusive gentlemen known as King&rsquo;s messengers
+is, in point of fact, out of all proportion to the prestige and glamour
+surrounding the silver greyhound badge, an example of which was tucked away in
+a pocket of the Major&rsquo;s blue serge jacket hanging over the back of a
+chair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s see,&rdquo; said the Major, addressing a large brown-paper
+covered package standing in the corner of the room, &ldquo;you&rsquo;re the
+bird-cage for Lady Sylvia at The Hague. Two pounds of candles for Mrs. Harry
+Deepdale at Berlin; the razor blades for Sir Archibald at Prague; the Teddy
+bear for Marjorie; polo-balls for the Hussars at Constantinople&mdash;there! I
+think that&rsquo;s the lot! Hullo, hullo, who the devil&rsquo;s that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With a groaning of wires a jangling bell tinkled through the hall (the
+Major&rsquo;s bedroom was on the ground floor). Sims, the aged ex-butler, who,
+with his wife, &ldquo;did for&rdquo; his lodgers in more ways than one, was out
+and the single servant-maid had her Sunday off. Euan MacTavish glanced at his
+wrist watch. It showed the hour to be ten minutes past nine. A flowered silk
+smoking-coat over his evening clothes and a briar pipe in his mouth, he went
+out into the hall and opened the front door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was a drenching night. The lamps from a taxi which throbbed dully in the
+street outside the house threw a gleaming band of light on the shining
+pavement. At the door stood a taxi-driver.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s a lady asking for Major MacTavish,&rdquo; he said,
+pointing at the cab. The Major stepped across to the cab and opened the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Euan,&rdquo; said a girl&rsquo;s voice, &ldquo;how lucky I am to
+catch you!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, Mary,&rdquo; exclaimed the Major, &ldquo;what on earth brings you
+round to me on a night like this? I only came up from the country this
+afternoon and I&rsquo;m off for Constantinople in the morning!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Euan,&rdquo; said Mary Trevert, &ldquo;I want to talk to you. Where can
+we talk?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Major raised his eyebrows. He was a little man with grizzled hair and
+finely cut, rather sharp features.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he remarked, &ldquo;there&rsquo;s not a soul in the house,
+and I&rsquo;ve only got a bedroom here. Though we&rsquo;re cousins, Mary, my
+dear, I don&rsquo;t know that you ought to....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re a silly old-fashioned old dear,&rdquo; exclaimed the girl,
+&ldquo;and I&rsquo;m coming in. No, I&rsquo;ll keep the cab. We shall want
+it!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said the Major, helping her to alight. &ldquo;I tell
+you what. We&rsquo;ll go into Harry Prankhurst&rsquo;s sitting-room. He&rsquo;s
+away for the week-end, anyway!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He took Mary Trevert into a room off the hall and switched on the electric
+light. Then for the first time he saw how pale she looked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I know what an awful shock you&rsquo;ve
+had....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve heard about it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I saw it in the Sunday papers. I was going to write to you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Euan,&rdquo; the girl began in a nervous, hasty way, &ldquo;I have to go
+to Holland at once. There is not a moment to lose. I want you to help me get my
+passport viséed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, my dear girl,&rdquo; exclaimed the Major, aghast, &ldquo;you
+can&rsquo;t go to Holland like this alone. Does your mother know about
+it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl shook her head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s no good trying to stop me, Euan,&rdquo; she declared.
+&ldquo;I mean to go, anyway. As a matter of fact, Mother doesn&rsquo;t know. I
+merely left word that I had gone to the Continent for a few days. Nobody knows
+about Holland except you. And if you won&rsquo;t help me I suppose I shall have
+to go to Harry Tadworth at the Foreign Office. I came to you first because
+he&rsquo;s always so stuffy ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Euan MacTavish pushed the girl into a chair and gave her a cigarette. He lit it
+for her and took one himself. His pipe had vanished into his pocket.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, I&rsquo;ll help you,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Now, tell me all
+about it!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Before ... this happened I had promised Hartley Parrish to marry
+him,&rdquo; began the girl. &ldquo;The doctors say his nerves were wrong. I
+don&rsquo;t believe a word of it. He was full of the joy of life. He was very
+fond of me. He was always talking of what we should do when we were married. He
+never would have killed himself without some tremendously powerful motive. Even
+then I can&rsquo;t believe it possible ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She made a little nervous gesture.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;After he ... did it,&rdquo; she went on, &ldquo;I found this letter on
+his desk. It came to him from Holland. I mean to see the people who wrote it
+and discover if they can throw any light on ... on ... the affair ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had taken from her muff a letter, folded in four, written on paper of a
+curious dark slatey-blue colour.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you show me the letter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You promise to say nothing about it to any one?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Without a word the girl gave him the letter. With slow deliberation he unfolded
+it. The letter was typewritten and headed: &ldquo;Elias van der Spyck &amp; Co.
+General Importers, Rotterdam.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This was the letter:
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK &amp; CO.<br />
+GENERAL IMPORTERS<br />
+ROTTERDAM Rotterdam 25th Nov.
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<i>Codes</i><br />
+A.B.C.<br />
+Liebler&rsquo;s
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<i>Personal</i><br />
+Dear Mr. Parrish,
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+Your favor of even date to hand and contents noted. The last delivery of steel
+was to time but we have had warning from the railway authorities that labour
+troubles at the docks are likely to delay future consignments. If you
+don&rsquo;t mind we should prefer to settle the question of future delivery by
+Nov. 27 as we have a board meeting on the 30th inst. While we fully appreciate
+your own difficulties with labour at home, you will understand that this is a
+question which we cannot afford to adjourn <i>sine die</i>.
+</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+Yours faithfully,<br />
+pro ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK &amp; CO.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The signature was illegible.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Euan MacTavish folded the letter again and handed it back to Mary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That doesn&rsquo;t take me any farther,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;What do
+the police think of it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They haven&rsquo;t seen it,&rdquo; was the girl&rsquo;s reply. &ldquo;I
+took it without them knowing. I mean to make my own investigations about this
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, my dear Mary,&rdquo; exclaimed the little Major in a shocked voice,
+&ldquo;you can&rsquo;t do things that way! Don&rsquo;t you see you may be
+hindering the course of justice? The police may attach the greatest importance
+to this letter ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re quite right,&rdquo; retorted the girl, &ldquo;they
+do!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then why have you kept it from them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert dropped her eyes and a little band of crimson flushed into her
+cheeks.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because,&rdquo; she commenced, &ldquo;because ... well, because they are
+trying to implicate a friend of mine ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Major took the girl&rsquo;s hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mary,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve known you all your life.
+I&rsquo;ve knocked about a good bit and know something of the world, I believe.
+Suppose you tell me all about it ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert hesitated. Then she said, her hands nervously toying with her
+muff:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We believe that Robin Greve&mdash;you know whom I mean&mdash;had a
+conversation with Hartley just before he ... he shot himself. That very
+afternoon Robin had asked me to marry him, but I told him about my engagement.
+He said some awful things about Hartley and rushed away. Ten minutes later
+Hartley Parrish committed suicide. And there <i>was</i> some one talking to him
+in the library. Bude, the butler, heard the voices. This afternoon I went down
+to the library alone ... to see if I could discover anything likely to throw
+any light on poor Hartley&rsquo;s death. This was the only letter I could find.
+It was tucked away between two letter-trays. One tray fitted into the other,
+and this letter had slipped between. It seems to have been overlooked both by
+Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s secretary and the police ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I confess,&rdquo; argued the Major, &ldquo;that I don&rsquo;t see
+how this letter, which appears to be a very ordinary business communication,
+implicates anybody at all. Why shouldn&rsquo;t the police see it?...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because,&rdquo; said Mary, &ldquo;directly after discovering it I found
+Bruce Wright, who used to be one of Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s private secretaries,
+hiding behind the curtains in the library. Now, Bruce Wright is a great friend
+of Robin Greve&rsquo;s, and I immediately suspected that Robin had sent him to
+Harkings, particularly as ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As what?...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As he practically admitted to me, that he had come for a letter written
+on slatey-blue official-looking paper.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl held up the letter from Rotterdam.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All this,&rdquo; the girl continued, &ldquo;made me think that this
+letter must have had something to do with Hartley&rsquo;s death ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Surely an additional reason for giving it to the police!...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert set her mouth in an obstinate line.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No!&rdquo; she affirmed uncompromisingly. &ldquo;The police believe
+that, as the result of a scene between Hartley and Robin, Hartley killed
+himself. Until I&rsquo;ve found out for certain whether this letter implicates
+Robin or not, I sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t give it to the police ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, if Greve really had nothing to do with this shocking tragedy, the
+police can very easily clear him. Surely they are the best judges of his guilt
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again a touch of warm colour suffused the girl&rsquo;s cheeks. Euan MacTavish
+remarked it and looked at her wistfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, well,&rdquo; he observed gently, &ldquo;perhaps they&rsquo;re not,
+after all!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl looked up at him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Euan, dear,&rdquo; she said impulsively, &ldquo;I knew you&rsquo;d
+understand. Robin and Hartley may have had a row, but it was nothing worse.
+Robin is incapable of having threatened&mdash;blackmailed&mdash;Hartley, as the
+police seem to imagine. I am greatly upset by it all; I can&rsquo;t see things
+clear at all; but I&rsquo;m determined not to give the police a weapon like
+this to use against Robin until I know whether it is sharp or blunt, until I
+have found out what bearing, if any, this letter had on Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s
+death ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Euan MacTavish leant back in his chair and said nothing. He finished his
+cigarette, pitched the butt into the fender, and turned to Mary. He asked her
+to let him see the letter again. Once more he read it over. Then, handing it
+back to her, he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all so simple-looking that there may well be something behind
+it. But, if you do go to Holland, how are you going to set about your
+enquiries?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s where you can help me, Euan, dear,&rdquo; answered the
+girl. &ldquo;I want to find somebody at Rotterdam who will help me to make some
+confidential enquiries about this firm. Do you know any one? An Englishman
+would be best, of course ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Euan MacTavish was halfway to the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wait there,&rdquo; he commanded, &ldquo;till I telephone the one man in
+the world who can help us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He vanished into the hall where Mary heard him at the instrument.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We are going round to the Albany,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;to see my
+friend, Ernest Dulkinghorn, of the War Office. He can help us if any one can.
+But, Mary, you must promise me one thing before we go ... you must agree to do
+what old Ernest tells you. You needn&rsquo;t be afraid. He is the most
+unconventional of men, capable of even approving this madcap scheme of
+yours!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I agree,&rdquo; said Mary, &ldquo;but how you waste time, Euan! We could
+have been at the Albany by this time!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In a first-floor oak-panelled suite at the Albany, overlooking the covered walk
+that runs from Piccadilly to Burlington Gardens, they found an excessively
+fair, loose-limbed man whose air of rather helpless timidity was heightened by
+a pair of large tortoise-shell spectacles. He appeared excessively embarrassed
+at the sight of MacTavish&rsquo;s extremely good-looking companion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You never told me you were bringing a lady, Euan,&rdquo; he said
+reproachfully, &ldquo;or I should have attempted to have made myself more
+presentable.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked down at his old flannel suit and made an apologetic gesture which
+took in the table littered with books and papers and the sofa on which lay a
+number of heavy tomes with marked slips sticking out between the pages.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am working at a code,&rdquo; he explained.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ernest here,&rdquo; said MacTavish, turning to Mary, &ldquo;is the code
+king. Your pals in the Intelligence tell me, Ernest, that you&rsquo;ve never
+been beaten by a code ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The fair man laughed nervously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;ve been pullin&rsquo; your leg, Euan,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you believe him, Mary,&rdquo; retorted her cousin.
+&ldquo;This is the man who probably did more than any one man to beat the
+Boche. Whenever the brother Hun changed his code, Brother Ernest was called in
+and he produced a key in one, two, three!...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What rot you talk, Euan!&rdquo; said Dulkinghorn. &ldquo;Working out a
+code is a combination of mathematics, perseverance, and inspiration with a good
+slice of luck thrown in! But isn&rsquo;t Miss Trevert going to sit down?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He cleared the sofa with a sweep of his arm which sent the books flying on to
+the floor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ernest,&rdquo; said MacTavish, &ldquo;I want you to give Miss Trevert
+here a letter to some reliable fellow in Rotterdam who can assist her in making
+a few enquiries of a very delicate nature!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What sort of enquiries?&rdquo; asked Dulkinghorn bluntly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;About a firm called Elias van der Spyck,&rdquo; replied Euan.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of Rotterdam?&rdquo; enquired the other sharply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right! Do you know them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve heard the name. They do a big business. But hadn&rsquo;t Miss
+Trevert better tell her story herself?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary told him of the death of Hartley Parrish and of the letter she had found
+upon his desk. She said nothing of the part played by Robin Greve.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hmph!&rdquo; said Dulkinghorn. &ldquo;You think it might be blackmail,
+eh? Well, well, it might be. Have you got this letter about you? Hand it over
+and let&rsquo;s have a look at it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His nervous manner had vanished. His face seemed to take on a much keener
+expression. He took the letter from Mary and read it through. Then he crossed
+the room to a wall cupboard which he unlocked with a key on a chain, produced a
+small tray on which stood a number of small bottles, some paint-brushes and
+pens, and several little open dishes such as are used for developing
+photographs. He bore the tray to the table, cleared a space on a corner by
+knocking a pile of books and papers on the floor, and set it down.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just poke the fire!&rdquo; he said to Euan.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+From a drawer in the table he produced a board on which he pinned down the
+letter with a drawing-pin at each corner. Then he dipped a paint-brush into one
+of the bottles and carefully painted the whole surface of the sheet with some
+invisible fluid.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So!&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;we&rsquo;ll leave that to dry and see if we
+can find out any little secrets, eh? That little tray&rsquo;ll do the trick if
+there&rsquo;s any monkey business to this letter of yours, Miss Trevert.
+That&rsquo;ll do the trick, eh, what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He paced the room as he talked, not waiting for an answer, but running on as
+though he were soliloquizing. Presently he turned and swooped down on the
+board.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; he ejaculated. &ldquo;Now for the acids!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With a little piece of sponge he carefully wiped the surface of the letter and
+painted it again with a substance from another bottle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just hold that to the fire, would you, Euan?&rdquo; he said, and gave
+MacTavish the board. He resumed his pacing, but this time he hummed in the most
+unmelodious voice imaginable:
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+She was bright as a butterfly, as fair as a queen,<br />
+Was pretty little Polly Perkins, of Paddington Green.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s dry!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+MacTavish&rsquo;s voice broke in upon the pacing and the discordant song.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dulkinghorn snapped out the question.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No result!&rdquo; said Euan. He handed him the board.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dulkinghorn cast a glance at it, swiftly removed the letter, held it for an
+instant up to the electric light, fingered the paper for a moment, and handed
+the letter back to Mary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If it&rsquo;s code,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s a conventional
+code and that always beats the expert ... at first. Go to Rotterdam and call on
+my friend, Mr. William Schulz. I&rsquo;ll give you a letter for him and
+he&rsquo;ll place himself entirely at your disposition. Euan will take you
+over. Holland is on your beat, ain&rsquo;t it, Euan? When do you go
+next?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To-morrow,&rdquo; said the King&rsquo;s Messenger. &ldquo;The boat train
+leaves Liverpool Street at ten o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll want a passport,&rdquo; said Dulkinghorn, turning to the
+girl. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got it there? Good. Leave it with me. You shall have
+it back properly viséed by nine o&rsquo;clock to-morrow morning. Where are you
+stayin&rsquo;? Almond&rsquo;s Hotel. Good. I&rsquo;ll send the letter for Mr.
+William Schulz with it!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But,&rdquo; Euan interjected mildly, after making several ineffectual
+efforts to stem the torrent of speech, &ldquo;do you really think that Miss
+Trevert will be well advised to risk this trip to Holland alone? Hadn&rsquo;t
+the police better take the matter in hand?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Police be damned!&rdquo; replied Dulkinghorn heartily. &ldquo;Miss
+Trevert will be better than a dozen heavy-handed, heavy-footed plain-clothes
+men. When you get to Rotterdam, Miss Trevert, you trot along and call on
+William Schulz. He&rsquo;ll see you through.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then, to indicate without any possibility of misunderstanding, that his work
+had been interrupted long enough, Dulkinghorn got up, and, opening the
+sitting-room door, led the way into the hall. As he stood with his hand on the
+latch of the front door, Mary Trevert asked him:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is this Mr. Schulz an Englishman?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll let you into a secret,&rdquo; answered Bulkinghorn; &ldquo;he
+<i>was</i>. But he isn&rsquo;t now! No, no, I can&rsquo;t say anything more.
+You must work it out for yourself. But I will give you a piece of advice. The
+less you say about Mr. William Schulz and about your private affairs generally
+when you are on the other side, the better it will be for you!
+Good-night&mdash;and good luck!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Euan MacTavish escorted Mary to Almond&rsquo;s Hotel.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m very much afraid,&rdquo; he said to her as they walked along,
+&ldquo;that you&rsquo;re butting that pretty head of yours into a wasps&rsquo;
+nest, Mary!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; retorted the girl decisively; &ldquo;I can take care of
+myself!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I consent to let you go off like this,&rdquo; said Euan, &ldquo;it is
+only on one condition ... you must tell Lady Margaret where you are going
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;ll spoil everything,&rdquo; answered Mary, pouting;
+&ldquo;Mother will want to come with me!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, she won&rsquo;t,&rdquo; urged her cousin, &ldquo;not if I tell her.
+She&rsquo;ll worry herself to death, Mary, if she doesn&rsquo;t know what has
+become of you. You&rsquo;d better let me ring her up from the club and tell her
+you&rsquo;re running over to Rotterdam for a few days. Look here, I&rsquo;ll
+tell her you&rsquo;re going with me. She&rsquo;ll be perfectly happy if she
+thinks I&rsquo;m to be with you ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On that Mary surrendered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have it your own way,&rdquo; she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll pick you up here at a quarter-past nine in the
+morning,&rdquo; said Euan as he bade the girl good-night at her hotel,
+&ldquo;then we&rsquo;ll run down to the F.O. and collect my bags and go on to
+the station!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Euan,&rdquo; the girl asked as she gave him her hand, &ldquo;who is this
+man Schulz, do you think?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The King&rsquo;s messenger leant over and whispered:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Secret Service!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Secret Service!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl repeated the words in a hushed voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then Mr. Dulkinghorn ... is he ... that too?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Euan nodded shortly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One of their leadin&rsquo; lights!&rdquo; he answered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, Euan,&rdquo;&mdash;the girl was very serious now,&mdash;&ldquo;what
+has the Secret Service to do with Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s clients in
+Holland?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The King&rsquo;s messenger laid a lean finger along his nose.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;what? That&rsquo;s what is beginning to
+interest me!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap21"></a>CHAPTER XXI.<br />
+A WORD WITH MR. JEEKES</h2>
+
+<p>
+Life is like a kaleidoscope, that ingenious toy which was the delight of the
+Victorian nursery. Like the glass fragments in its slide, different in colour
+and shape, men&rsquo;s lives lie about without seeming connection; then Fate
+gives the instrument a shake, and behold! the fragments slide into position and
+form an intricate mosaic....
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mark how Fate proceeded on the wet and raw Sunday evening when Bruce Wright, at
+the instance of Mr. Manderton, quitted Robin Greve&rsquo;s chambers in the
+Temple, leaving his friend and the detective alone together. To tell the truth,
+Bruce Wright was in no mood for facing the provincial gloom of a wet Sunday
+evening in London, nor did he find alluring the prospect of a suburban
+supper-party at the quiet house where he lived with his widowed mother and
+sisters in South Kensington. So, in an irresolute, unsettled frame of mind, he
+let himself drift down the Strand unable to bring himself to go home or,
+indeed, to form any plan.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He crossed Trafalgar Square, a nocturne in yellow and black&mdash;lights
+reflected yellow in pavements shining dark with wet&mdash;and by and by found
+himself in Pall Mall. Here it was that Fate took a hand. At this moment it
+administered a preliminary jog to the kaleidoscope and brought the fragment
+labelled Bruce Wright into immediate proximity with the piece entitled Albert
+Edward Jeekes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Bruce Wright came along Pall Mall, he saw Mr. Jeekes standing on the steps
+of his club. The little secretary appeared to be lost in thought, his chin
+thrust down on the crutch-handle of the umbrella he clutched to himself. So
+absorbed was he in his meditations that he did not observe Bruce Wright stop
+and regard him. It was not until our young man had touched him on the arm that
+he looked up with a start.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;God bless my soul!&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;if it isn&rsquo;t young
+Wright!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Now the sight of Jeekes had put a great idea into the head of our young friend.
+He had been more chagrined than he had let it appear to Robin Greve at his
+failure to recover the missing letter from the library at Harkings. To obtain
+the letter&mdash;or, at any rate, a copy of it&mdash;from Jeekes and to hand it
+to Robin Greve would, thought Bruce, restore his prestige as an amateur
+detective, at any rate in his own eyes. Moreover, a chat with Jeekes over the
+whole affair seemed a Heaven-sent exit from the <i>impasse</i> of boredom into
+which he had drifted this wet Sunday evening.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How are you, Mr. Jeekes?&rdquo; said Bruce briskly. (&ldquo;Mr.&rdquo;
+Jeekes was the form of address always accorded to the principal secretary in
+the Hartley Parrish establishment and Bruce resumed it instinctively.) &ldquo;I
+was anxious to see you. I called in at the club this afternoon. Did you get my
+message?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little secretary blinked at him through his <i>pince-nez</i>.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There have been so many messages about this shocking affair that really
+I forget ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He sighed heavily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t I come in and have a yarn now?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce spoke cajolingly. But Mr. Jeekes wrinkled his brow fussily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was so much to do; he had had a long day; if Wright would excuse him ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As a matter of fact,&rdquo; explained Bruce with an eye on his man,
+&ldquo;I wanted to see you particularly about a letter ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some other time ... to-morrow ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Written on dark-blue paper ... you know, one of those letters H.P. made
+all the fuss about.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Jeekes took his <i>pince-nez</i> from his nose, gave the glasses a hasty
+rub with his pocket-handkerchief, and replaced them. He slanted a long narrow
+look at the young man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then, &ldquo;What letter do you mean?&rdquo; he asked composedly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A letter which lay on H.P.&rsquo;s desk in the library at Harkings when
+they found the body ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There <i>was</i> a letter there then ...?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t <i>you</i> got it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Jeekes shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come inside for a minute and tell me about this,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He led Bruce into the vast smoking-room of the club. They took seats in a
+distant corner near the blazing fire. The room was practically deserted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Now, Mr. Jeekes&rsquo;s excessive carefulness about money had been a
+long-standing joke amongst his assistants when Bruce Wright had belonged to
+Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s secretarial staff. Thrift had become with him more than
+a habit. It was a positive obsession. It revealed itself in such petty
+meannesses as a perpetual cadging for matches or small change and a careful
+abstention from any offer of hospitality. Never in the whole course of his
+service had Bruce Wright heard of Mr. Jeekes taking anybody out to lunch or
+extending any of the usual hospitalities of life. He was not a little
+surprised, therefore, to hear Jeekes ask him what he would take.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce said he would take some coffee.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have a liqueur? Have a cigar?&rdquo; said Jeekes, turning to Bruce from
+the somnolent waiter who had answered the bell.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a strange eagerness, a sort of over-done cordiality, in the
+invitation which contrasted so strongly with the secretary&rsquo;s habits that
+Robin felt dimly suspicious. He suddenly formed the idea that Mr. Jeekes wanted
+to pump him. He refused the liqueur, but accepted a cigar. Jeekes waited until
+they had been served and the waiter had withdrawn silently into the dim
+vastness of the great room before he spoke.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, then, young Wright,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;what&rsquo;s this about
+a letter? Tell me from the beginning ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce told him of the letter from Elias van der Spyck &amp; Co. which Robin had
+seen upon the desk in the library at Harkings, of his (Bruce&rsquo;s) journey
+down to Harkings that afternoon and of his failure to find the letter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why do you assume that I&rsquo;ve got it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was an air of forced joviality about Mr. Jeekes as he put the question
+which did not in the least, as he undoubtedly intended it should, disguise his
+eagerness. On the contrary, it lent his rather undistinguished features an
+expression of cunning which can only be described as knavish. Bruce Wright,
+who, as will already have been seen, was a young man with all his wits about
+him, did not fail to remark it. The result was that he hastily revised an
+intention half-formed in his mind of taking Jeekes a little way into his
+confidence regarding Robin Greve&rsquo;s doubts and suspicions about Hartley
+Parrish&rsquo;s death.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But he answered the secretary&rsquo;s question readily enough.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because Miss Trevert told me you went to the library immediately you
+arrived at Harkings last night. I consequently assumed that you must have taken
+away the letter seen by Robin Greve ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Jeekes drew in his breath with a sucking sound. It was a little trick of
+his when about to speak.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So you saw Miss Trevert at Harkings, eh?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;We had quite a dramatic meeting,
+too&mdash;it was like a scene from a film!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And, with a little good-humoured exaggeration, he gave Mr. Jeekes a description
+of his encounter with Mary. And lest it should seem that young Wright was
+allowing Mr. Jeekes to pump him, it should be stated that Bruce was well aware
+of one of the secretary&rsquo;s most notable characteristics, a common failing,
+be it remarked, of the small-minded, and that was an overpowering suspicion of
+anything resembling a leading question. In order, therefore, to gain his
+confidence, he willingly satisfied the other&rsquo;s curiosity regarding his
+visit to Harkings hoping thereby to extract some information as to the
+whereabouts of the letter on the slatey-blue paper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There was no letter of this description on the desk, you say, when you
+and Miss Trevert looked?&rdquo; asked Jeekes when Bruce had finished his story.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing but circulars and bills,&rdquo; Bruce replied.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Jeekes leaned forward and drank off his coffee with a swift movement. Then
+he said carelessly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;From what you tell me, Miss Trevert would have been perhaps a minute
+alone in the room without your seeing her?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce agreed with a nod.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Adjusting his <i>pince-nez</i> on his nose the secretary rose to his feet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very glad to have seen you again, Wright,&rdquo; he said, thrusting out
+a limp hand; &ldquo;must run off now&mdash;mass of work to get through
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Bruce risked his leading question.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you haven&rsquo;t got this letter,&rdquo; he observed, &ldquo;what
+has become of it? Obviously the police are not likely to have taken it because
+they know nothing of its significance ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite, quite,&rdquo; answered Mr. Jeekes absently, but without replying
+to the young man&rsquo;s question.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why,&rdquo; asked Bruce boldly, &ldquo;did old H.P. make such a mystery
+about these letters on the slatey-blue paper, Mr. Jeekes?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The secretary wrinkled up his thin lips and sharp nose into a cunning smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When you get to be my age, young Wright,&rdquo; he made answer,
+&ldquo;you will understand that every man has a private side to his life. And,
+if you have learnt your job properly, you will also know that a private
+secretary&rsquo;s first duty is to mind his own business. About this letter
+now&mdash;it&rsquo;s the first I&rsquo;ve heard of it. Take my advice and
+don&rsquo;t bother your head about it. <i>If</i> it exists ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But it <i>does</i> exist,&rdquo; broke in Bruce quickly. &ldquo;Mr.
+Greve saw it and read it himself ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Jeekes laughed drily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you forget, young Wright,&rdquo; he said, jerking his chin
+towards the youngster in a confidential sort of way, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t you
+forget that Mr. Greve is anxious to find a plausible motive for Mr.
+Parrish&rsquo;s suicide. People are talking, you understand! That&rsquo;s all
+I&rsquo;ve got to say! Just you think it over ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bruce Wright bristled up hotly at this.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see you have any reason to try and impugn Greve&rsquo;s
+motive for wishing to get at the bottom of this mysterious affair ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Jeekes affected to be engrossed in the manicuring of his nails. Very
+intently he rubbed the nails of one hand against the palm of the other.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No mystery!&rdquo; he said decisively with a shake of the head:
+&ldquo;no mystery whatsoever about it, young Wright, except what the amateur
+detectives will try and make it out to be. Or has Mr. Greve discovered a
+mystery already?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The question came out artfully. But in the quick glance which accompanied it,
+there was an intent watchfulness which startled Bruce accustomed as he was to
+the mild and unemotional ways of the little secretary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not that I know of,&rdquo; said Bruce. &ldquo;Greve is only puzzled like
+all of us that H.P. should have done a thing like this!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Jeekes was perfectly impassive again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The nerves, young Wright! The nerves!&rdquo; he said impressively.
+&ldquo;Harley Street, not Mr. Greve, will supply the motive to this sad affair,
+believe me!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With that he accompanied the young man to the door of the club and from the
+vestibule watched him sally forth into the rain of Pall Mall.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Mr. Jeekes turned to the hall porter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please get me Stevenish one-three-seven,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;it&rsquo;s a trunk call. Don&rsquo;t let them put you off with &lsquo;No
+reply.&rsquo; It&rsquo;s Harkings, and they are expecting me to ring them. I
+shall be in the writing room.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When, twenty minutes later, Mr. Jeekes emerged from the trunk call telephone
+box in the club vestibule, his mouth was drooping at the corners and his hands
+trembled curiously. He stood for an instant in thought tapping his foot on the
+marble floor of the deserted hall dimly lit by a single electric bulb burning
+over the hall porter&rsquo;s box. Then he went back to the writing-room and
+returned with a yellow telegram form.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Send a boy down to Charing Cross with that at once, please,&rdquo; he
+said to the night porter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Fate which had brought Bruce Wright face to face with Mr. Jeekes gave the
+kaleidoscope another jerk that night. As Bruce Wright entered the Tube Station
+at Dover Street to go home to South Kensington, it occurred to him that he
+would ring up Robin Greve at his chambers in the Temple and give him an outline
+of his (Bruce&rsquo;s) talk with Jeekes. Bruce went to the public callbox in
+the station, but the rhythmic &ldquo;Zoom-er! Zoom-er! Zoom-er!&rdquo; which
+announces that a number is engaged was all the satisfaction he got. The
+prospect of waiting about the draughty station exit did not appeal to him, so
+he decided to go home and telephone Robin, as originally arranged, in the
+morning.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Just about the time that he made this resolve, Robin in his rooms in the Temple
+was hanging up the receiver of his telephone with a dazed expression in his
+eyes. Mr. Manderton had rung him up with a piece of intelligence which fairly
+bewildered him. It bewildered Mr. Manderton also, as the detective was frank
+enough to acknowledge.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert had gone to Rotterdam for a few days in company with her cousin,
+Major Euan MacTavish. Mr. Manderton had received this astonishing information
+by telephone from Harkings a few minutes before.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It bothers me properly, Mr. Greve, sir,&rdquo; the detective had added.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s only one thing for it, Manderton,&rdquo; Robin had said;
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have to go after her ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The very thing I was about to suggest myself, Mr. Greve. You&rsquo;re
+unofficial-like and can be more helpful than if we detailed one of our own
+people from the Yard. And with the investigation in its present stage I
+don&rsquo;t reely feel justified in going off on a wild-goose chase myself.
+There are several important enquiries going forward now, notably as to where
+Mr. Parrish bought his pistol. But we certainly ought to find out what takes
+Miss Trevert careering off to Rotterdam in this way ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It seems almost incredible,&rdquo; Robin had said, &ldquo;but it looks
+to me as though Miss Trevert must have found out something about the letter
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Or found it herself ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Jove! She was in the library when Bruce Wright was there. This
+settles it, Manderton. I must go!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said the detective, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to entrust you
+with that slotted sheet of paper again. For I have an idea, Mr. Greve, that you
+may get a glimpse of that letter before I do. I&rsquo;ll send a messenger round
+with it at once.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then a difficulty arose. Manderton had not got the girl&rsquo;s address. They
+had no address at Harkings. Nor did he know what train Miss Trevert had taken.
+She might have gone by the 9 P.M. that night. Had Mr. Greve got a passport?
+Yes, Robin had a passport, but it was not viséed for Holland. That meant he
+could not leave until the following evening. Then Robin had a &ldquo;brain
+wave.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s an air service to Rotterdam!&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t leave till noon. A pal of mine went across by it only
+last week. That will leave me time to get my passport stamped at the Dutch
+Consulate, to catch the air mail, and be in Rotterdam by tea-time! And,
+Manderton, I shall go to the Grand Hotel. That&rsquo;s where my friend stopped.
+Wire me there if there&rsquo;s any news ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Air travel is so comfortably regulated at the present day that Robin Greve,
+looking back at his trip by air from Croydon Aerodrome to the big
+landing-ground outside Rotterdam, acknowledged that he had more excitement in
+his efforts to stir into action a lethargic Dutch passport official in London,
+so as to enable him to catch the air mail, than in the smooth and uneventful
+voyage across the Channel. He reached Rotterdam on a dull and muggy afternoon
+and lost no time in depositing his bag at the Grand Hotel. An enquiry at the
+office there satisfied him that Mary Trevert had not registered her name in the
+hotel book. Then he set out in a taxi upon a dreary round of the principal
+hotels.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But fate, which loves to make a sport of lovers, played him a scurvy trick. In
+the course of his search it brought Robin to that very hotel towards which, at
+the selfsame moment, Mary Trevert was driving from the station. By the time she
+arrived, Robin was gone and, with despair in his heart, had started on a tour
+of the second-class hotels, checking them by the Baedeker he had bought in the
+Strand that morning. It was eight o&rsquo;clock by the time he had finished. He
+had drawn a blank.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The sight of a huge, plate-glass-fronted café reminded him that in the
+day&rsquo;s rush he had omitted to lunch. So he paid off his taxi and dined off
+succulent Dutch beefsteak, pounded as soft as velvet and swimming with butter
+and served in a bed of deliciously browned &lsquo;earth apples,&rsquo; as the
+Holländers call potatoes. The café was stiflingly hot; there was a large and
+noisy orchestra in the front part and a vast billiard-saloon in the
+back&mdash;a place of shaded lights, clicking balls, and guttural exclamations.
+The heat of the place, the noise and the cries combined with the effect of his
+long journey in the fresh air to make him very drowsy. When he had finished
+dinner he was content to postpone his investigations until the morrow and go to
+bed. Emerging from the café he found to his relief that his hotel was but a few
+houses away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he sat at breakfast the next morning, enjoying the admirable Dutch coffee,
+he reviewed the situation very calmly but very thoroughly. He told himself that
+he had no indication as to Mary Trevert&rsquo;s business in Rotterdam save the
+supposition that she had found the van der Spyck letter and had come to
+Rotterdam to investigate the matter for herself. He realized that the
+hypothesis was thin, for, in the first place, Mary could have no inkling as to
+the hidden significance of the document, and, in the second place, she was
+undoubtedly under the impression that Hartley Parrish was driven to suicide by
+his (Robin&rsquo;s) threats.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But, in the absence of any other apparent explanation of the girl&rsquo;s
+extraordinary decision to come to Rotterdam, Robin decided he would accept the
+theory that she had come about the van der Spyck letter. How like Mary, after
+all, he mused, self-willed, fearless, independent, to rush off to Holland on
+her own on a quest like this! Where would her investigations lead her? To the
+offices of Elias van der Spyck &amp; Co., to be sure! Robin threw his napkin
+down on the table, thrust back his chair, and went off to the hotel porter to
+locate the address of the firm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The telephone directory showed that the offices were situated in the
+Oranien-Straat, about ten minutes&rsquo; walk from the hotel, in the business
+quarter of the city round the Bourse. Robin glanced at the clock. It was twenty
+minutes to ten. The principals, he reflected, were not likely to be at the
+office before ten o&rsquo;clock. It was a fine morning and he decided to walk.
+The hotel porter gave him a few simple directions: the gentleman could not miss
+the way, he said; so Robin started off, hope high in his breast of getting a
+step nearer to the elucidation of the mystery of the library at Harkings.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A brisk walk of about ten minutes through the roaring streets of the city
+brought him to a big open square from which, he had been instructed, the
+Oranien-Straat turned off. He was just passing a large and important-looking
+post-office&mdash;he remarked it because he looked up at a big clock in the
+window to see the time&mdash;when a man came hastily through the swing-door and
+stopped irresolutely on the pavement in front, glancing to right and left as a
+man does who is looking for a cab.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the sight of him Robin could scarcely suppress an expression of amazement.
+It was Mr. Jeekes.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap22"></a>CHAPTER XXII.<br />
+THE MAN WITH THE YELLOW FACE</h2>
+
+<p>
+In a narrow, drowsy side street at Rotterdam, bisected by a somnolent canal,
+stood flush with the red-brick sidewalk a small clean house. Wire blinds
+affixed to the windows of its ground and first floors gave it a curious
+blinking air as though its eyes were only half open. To the neat green front
+door was affixed a large brass plate inscribed with the single name:
+&ldquo;Schulz.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A large woman, in a pink print dress with a white cloth bound about her head,
+was vigorously polishing the plate as, on the morning following her departure
+from London, Mary Trevert, Dulkinghorn&rsquo;s letter of introduction in her
+pocket, arrived in front of the residence of Mr. William Schulz. Euan MacTavish
+had, on the previous evening, seen her to her hotel and had then&mdash;very
+reluctantly, as it seemed to Mary&mdash;departed to continue his journey to The
+Hague, his taxi piled high with white-and-green Foreign Office bags, heavily
+sealed with scarlet wax.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert approached the woman, her letter of introduction, which
+Dulkinghorn, being an unusual person, had fastened down, in her hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Schulz?&rdquo; she said interrogatively.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>Nicht da</i>,&rdquo; replied the woman without looking up from her
+rubbing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Has he gone out?&rdquo; asked Mary in English.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>Verstehe nicht</i>!&rdquo; mumbled the woman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But she put down her cleaning-rag and, breathing heavily, mustered the girl
+with a leisurely stare.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary repeated the question in German whereupon the woman brightened up
+considerably.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The <i>Herr</i> was not at home. The <i>Herr</i> had gone out. On business,
+<i>jawohl</i>. To the bank, perhaps. But the <i>Herr</i> would be back in time
+for <i>Mittagessen</i> at noon. There was beer soup followed by
+<i>Rindfleisch</i> ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary hesitated an instant. She was wondering whether she should leave her
+letter of introduction. She decided she would leave it. So she wrote on her
+card: &ldquo;Anxious to see you as soon as possible&rdquo; and the name of her
+hotel, and gave it, with the letter, to the woman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please see that Herr Schulz gets that directly he comes in,&rdquo; she
+said. &ldquo;It is important!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>Gut, gut</i>!&rdquo; said the woman, wiping her hands on her apron.
+She took the card and letter, and Mary, thanking her, set off to go back to her
+hotel.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+About twenty yards from Mr. Schulz&rsquo;s house a narrow alley ran off. As
+Mary turned to regain the little footbridge across the canal to return to the
+noisy street which would take her back to the hotel, she caught sight of a man
+disappearing down this alley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She only had a glimpse of him, but it was sufficient to startle her
+considerably. He was a small man wearing a tweed cap and a tweed travelling
+ulster of a vivid brown. It was not these details, however, which took her
+aback. It was the fact that in the glimpse she had had of the man&rsquo;s face
+she had seemed to recognize the features of Mr. Albert Edward Jeekes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What an extraordinary thing!&rdquo; Mary said to herself. &ldquo;It
+<i>can&rsquo;t</i> be Mr. Jeekes. But if it is not, it is some one strikingly
+like him!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To get another view of the stranger she hurried to the corner of the alley. It
+was a mere thread of a lane, not above six yards wide, running between the
+houses a distance of some sixty yards to the next street. But the alley was
+empty. The stranger had disappeared.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary went a little way down the lane. A wooden fence ran down it on either
+side, with doors at intervals apparently giving on the back yards of the houses
+in the street. There was no sign of Mr. Jeekes&rsquo;s double, so she retraced
+her steps and returned to her hotel without further incident.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had not been back more than half an hour when a waiter came in to the
+lounge where she was sitting.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Trevert?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Zey ask for you at ze
+delephone!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He took her to a cabin under the main staircase.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is Miss Trevert speaking!&rdquo; said Mary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am speaking for Mr. Schulz,&rdquo; a man&rsquo;s voice
+answered&mdash;rather a nasal voice with a shade of foreign
+inflexion&mdash;&ldquo;he has had your letter. He is very sorry he has been
+detained in the country, but would be very glad if you would lunch with him
+to-day at his country-house.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall be very pleased,&rdquo; the girl replied. &ldquo;Is it
+far?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Only just outside Rotterdam,&rdquo; the voice responded. &ldquo;Mr.
+Schulz will send the car to the hotel to pick you up at 11.45. The driver will
+ask for you. Is that all right?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said Mary. &ldquo;Please thank Mr. Schulz and tell him
+I will expect the car at a quarter to twelve!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Punctually at the appointed hour an open touring-car drove up to the hotel.
+Mary was waiting at the entrance. The driver was a young Dutchman in a blue
+serge suit. He jumped out and came up to Mary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mees Trevert?&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary nodded, whereupon he helped her into the car, then got back into the
+driving-seat and they drove away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A run of about twenty minutes through trim suburbs brought them out on a long
+straight road, paved with bricks and lined with poplars. The day was fine with
+a little bright sunshine from time to time and a high wind which kept the sails
+of the windmills dotting the landscape turning briskly. They followed the road
+for a bit, then branched off down a side turning which led to a black gate. It
+bore the name &ldquo;Villa Bergendal&rdquo; in white letters. The gate opened
+into a short drive fringed by thick laurel bushes which presently brought them
+in view of an ugly square red-brick house.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The car drew up at a creeper-hung porch paved in red tiles. The chauffeur
+helped Mary to alight and, pushing open a glass door, ushered the girl into a
+square, comfortably furnished hall. Some handsome Oriental rugs were spread
+about: trophies of native weapons hung on the walls, and there were some fine
+specimens of old Dutch chests and blue Delft ware.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The chauffeur led the way across the hall to a door at the far end. As Mary
+followed him, something bright lying on one of the chests caught her eye. It
+was a vivid brown travelling ulster and on it lay a brown tweed cap.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert was no fool. She was, on the contrary, a remarkably quick-witted
+young person. The sight of that rather &ldquo;loud&rdquo; overcoat instantly
+recalled the stranger so strikingly resembling Mr. Jeekes who had disappeared
+down the lane as she was coming away from Mr. Schulz&rsquo;s house. Mr. Jeekes
+<i>was</i> in Rotterdam then, and had, of course, been sent by her mother to
+look after her. What a fool she had been to allow Euan MacTavish to persuade
+her to tell her mother of her plans!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary suddenly felt very angry. How dare Mr. Jeekes spy on her like this! She
+was quite capable, she told herself, of handling her own affairs, and she
+intended to tell the secretary so very plainly. And if, as she was beginning to
+believe, Mr. Schulz were acting hand in glove with Mr. Jeekes, she would let
+him know equally plainly that she had no intention of troubling him, but would
+make her own investigations independently. With a heightened colour she
+followed the chauffeur and passed through the door he held open for her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She found herself in a small, pleasant room with a bright note of colour in the
+royal blue carpet and window-curtains. A log-fire burned cheerfully in the
+fireplace before which a large red-leather Chesterfield was drawn up. On the
+walls hung some good old Dutch prints, and there were a couple of bookcases
+containing books which, by their bindings at least, seemed old and valuable.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the farther end of the room was another door across which a curtain of royal
+blue was drawn. Mary had scarcely entered the room when this door opened and a
+man appeared.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was carefully dressed in a well-cut suit of some dark material and wore a
+handsome pearl pin in his black tie. He was a dark, sallow type of man, his
+skin yellowed as though from long residence in the tropics. A small black
+moustache, carefully trained outwards from the lips, disclosed, as he smiled a
+greeting at his visitor, a line of broken yellow teeth. His hair, which was
+grizzled at the temples, was black and oily and brushed right back off the
+forehead. With his coarse black hair, his sallow skin, and his small beady
+eyes, rather like a snake&rsquo;s, there was something decidedly un-English
+about him. As Mary Trevert looked at him, somewhat taken aback by his sudden
+appearance, she became conscious of a vague feeling of mistrust welling up
+within her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The man closed the door behind him and advanced into the room, his hand
+extended. Mary took it. It was dank and cold to the touch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A thousand apologies, my dear Miss Trevert,&rdquo; he said in a soft,
+silky voice, a trifle nasal, with a touch of Continental inflexion, &ldquo;for
+asking you to come out here to see me. The fact is I had an important business
+conference here this morning and I have a second one this afternoon. It was
+materially impossible for me to come into Rotterdam ... But I am forgetting my
+manners. Let me introduce myself. I am Mr. Schulz ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert looked at him thoughtfully. Was this the friend of Ernest
+Dulkinghorn, the man of confidence to whom he had recommended her? A feeling of
+great uneasiness came over her. She listened. The house was absolutely still.
+From the utter silence enveloping it&mdash;for aught she knew&mdash;she and her
+unsavoury-looking companion might be the only persons in it. And then she
+realized that, on the faith of a telephone call, she had blindly come out to a
+house, the very address of which was utterly unknown to her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She fought down a sudden sensation of panic that made her want to scream, to
+bolt from the room into the fresh air, anywhere away from those snake eyes,
+that soft voice, that clammy hand. She collected her thoughts, remembered that
+Jeekes must be somewhere in the house, as his outdoor things were in the hall.
+The recollection reminded her of her determination to tolerate no interference
+from Jeekes or her mother.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So she merely answered: &ldquo;It was no trouble to come,&rdquo; and waited for
+the man to speak again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He pulled forward the Chesterfield and made her sit down beside him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had the letter of introduction,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and I want you
+to know that my services are entirely at your disposal. Now, what can I do for
+you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked at the girl intently&mdash;rather anxiously, she thought.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was explained in the letter,&rdquo; she answered, meeting his gaze
+unflinchingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes, of course, I know. I meant in what way do you propose to make
+use of my ... my local knowledge?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will tell you that, Mr. Schulz,&rdquo; Mary Trevert said in a measured
+voice, &ldquo;when you tell me what you think of the mission which has brought
+me here ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The snake&rsquo;s eyes narrowed a little.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For a young lady to have come out alone to Holland on a mission of this
+description speaks volumes for your pluck and self-reliance, Miss Trevert
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I asked you what you thought of my mission to Holland, Mr.
+Schulz,&rdquo; Mary interposed coldly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was beginning to dawn on her that Mr. Schulz did not seem to know anything
+about the object of her visit, but, on the contrary, was seeking to elicit this
+from her by a process of adroit cross-examination. She was rather puzzled,
+therefore, but also somewhat relieved when he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can give my opinion better after you have shown me the letter
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What letter?&rdquo; said the girl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The letter from Elias van der Spyck and Company, to be sure,&rdquo;
+retorted the other quickly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary dipped her hand into her black fox muff. Then she hesitated. She could not
+rid herself of the suspicion that this man with the sallow face and the yellow
+fangs was not to be trusted. She withdrew her hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is a very delicate matter, Mr. Schulz,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Our
+appointment was made by telephone, and I think therefore I should ask you to
+show me Mr. Dulkinghorn&rsquo;s letter of introduction before I go any further,
+so that I may feel quite sure in my mind that I am dealing with one in whom I
+know Mr. Dulkinghorn to have every confidence ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Schulz&rsquo;s yellow face went a shade yellower. His mouth twisted itself
+into a wry smile, his thin lips fleshing his discoloured teeth. He stood up
+rather stiffly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are a guest in my house, Miss Trevert,&rdquo; he said with offended
+dignity, &ldquo;I scarcely expected you to impugn my good faith. Surely my word
+is sufficient ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He turned his back on her and took a couple of paces into the room in apparent
+vexation. Then he returned and stood at the back of the Chesterfield behind
+her. His feet made no sound on the thick carpet, but some vague instinct made
+Mary Trevert turn her head. She saw him standing there, twisting his hands
+nervously behind his back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Surely my word is sufficient ...&rdquo; he repeated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In business,&rdquo; said Mary boldly, &ldquo;one cannot be too
+careful.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Besides,&rdquo; Mr. Schulz urged, &ldquo;this was a private letter which
+Mr. ... Mr. Dulkinghorn certainly did not expect you to see. That makes it
+awkward ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think in the circumstances,&rdquo; said Mary, &ldquo;I must insist,
+Mr. Schulz!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was now feeling horribly frightened. She strained her ears in vain for a
+sound. The whole house seemed wrapped in a grave-like quiet. The smile had
+never left Mr. Schulz&rsquo;s face. But it was a cruel, wolfish grin without a
+ray of kindliness in it. The girl felt her heart turn cold within her every
+time her eyes fell on the mask-like face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Schulz shrugged shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Since you insist ...&rdquo; he remarked. &ldquo;But I think it is
+scarcely fair on our friend Dulkinghorn. The letter is in the safe in my office
+next door. If you come along I will get it out and show it to you ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He spoke unconcernedly, but stiffly, as though to emphasize the slight put upon
+his dignity. One hand thrust jauntily in his jacket pocket, he stepped across
+the carpet to the door with the blue curtain. He opened it, then stood back for
+the girl to pass in before him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;After you!&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had placed himself so close to the doorway that the black fox about her neck
+brushed his face as she passed. Suddenly a warm, sickly whiff of some
+sweet-smelling odour came to her. She stopped on the instant, irresolute,
+alarmed. Then a dank hand was clapped on her face, covering nostrils and mouth
+with a soft cloth reeking with a horrible cloying drug. An arm with muscles
+like steel was passed round her waist and held her in a vice-like grip against
+which she struggled in vain. She felt her senses slipping, slipping ...
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap23"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.<br />
+TWO&rsquo;S COMPANY ...</h2>
+
+<p>
+On the pavement opposite the post-office stood one of those high pillars which
+are commonly used in Continental cities for the display of theatre and concert
+advertisements. Robin instantly stepped behind it. It was not that he wished to
+avoid being seen by Jeekes as much as that he had not decided in his mind what
+course he had best pursue. From behind the cover of the pillar he mustered his
+man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little secretary looked strange and unfamiliar in a sporting sort of
+travelling ulster of a tawny brown hue and a cap of the same stuff. But there
+was no mistaking the watery eyes, the sharp nose, the features. He had
+obviously not seen Robin. His whole attention was rivetted on the street. He
+kept peering nervously to right and left as though expecting some one.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Suddenly he stepped forward quickly to the kerb. Then Robin saw an open car
+detach itself from the press of traffic in the square and, driven very fast,
+approach the post-office. It was a large car with a grey body; a sallow man
+wearing a black felt hat sat at the wheel. The car drew up at the kerb and
+halted within a few feet of the advertisement pillar. Robin backed hastily
+round it to escape observation. He had resolved to do nothing until he had
+ascertained who Jeekes&rsquo;s friend was and what business the secretary had
+with him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; Robin heard the man in the car say in
+English; &ldquo;I telephoned the girl and she&rsquo;s coming. What a piece of
+luck, eh?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin heard the click of the car door as it swung open.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;... better get along out there at once,&rdquo; he heard the man in the
+car say, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sending Jan in the car for her at ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Robin stepped out unexpectedly from behind his pillar and cannoned into
+Mr. Jeekes, who was just entering the car.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good-morning,&rdquo; said Robin with easy assurance; &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+delighted to hear that you&rsquo;ve found Miss Trevert, Jeekes, for, to tell
+the truth, I was feeling somewhat uneasy about her ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The secretary&rsquo;s face was a study. The surprise of seeing Robin, who had
+dropped, it seemed to him, out of the clouds into the city of Rotterdam,
+deprived him of speech for an instant. He blinked his eyes, looked this way and
+that, and finally, with a sort of blind gesture, readjusted his
+<i>pince-nez</i> and glared at the intruder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then, without a word, he got into the car. But Robin, with a firm hand, stayed
+the door which Jeekes would have closed behind him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Excuse me,&rdquo; Robin remarked decidedly, &ldquo;but I&rsquo;m coming
+with you if your friend&rdquo;&mdash;at this he looked at the man in the
+driving-seat&mdash;&ldquo;has no objection ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Jeekes cast a frightened glance at the sallow man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The latter said impatiently:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;re wasting time, Jeekes. Who is this gentleman?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is Mr. Greve,&rdquo; said the little secretary hurriedly, &ldquo;a
+friend of Mr. Parrish and Miss Trevert. He was staying in the house at the time
+of the tragedy. He has, I understand, taken a prominent part in the
+investigations as to the motive of our poor friend&rsquo;s sad end ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Jeekes looked to Robin as he said this as though for confirmation. The man
+at the driving-wheel turned and gave the little secretary a quick glance. Then
+he mustered Robin with a slow, insolent stare. He had a yellow face and small
+black eyes quick and full of intelligence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he bowed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My name is Victor,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The sad news about Mr. Parrish
+was a great shock to me. I met him several times in London. Were you anxious to
+see Miss ... er ... Trevert? She has come to Rotterdam (so my friend Jeekes
+tells me) to look into certain important business transactions which the late
+Mr. Parrish had in hand at the time of his death. Did I understand you to say
+that you were uneasy about this lady? Is there any mystery about her
+journey?...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For the moment Robin felt somewhat abashed. The question was rather a poser.
+Was there, in effect, any mystery about Mary&rsquo;s trip to Rotterdam
+accompanied by her cousin? She had acquainted her people at Harkings with her
+plans. What if, after all, everything was open and above-board, and she had
+merely come to Rotterdam on business? It seemed difficult to believe. Surely in
+such a case the solicitor, Bardy, would have been the more suitable emissary
+...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll forgive us, I&rsquo;m sure,&rdquo; the yellow-faced man
+remarked suavely, &ldquo;but we&rsquo;re in a great hurry. Would you mind
+closing that door?...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin closed the door. But he got into the car first. As he had stood on the
+pavement in doubt, the recollection of Jeekes&rsquo;s inexplicable lie about
+the payments made by Parrish for the French lady in the Mayfair flat came back
+to him and deepened the suspicion in his mind. It would in any case, he told
+himself, do no harm to find out who this rather unsavoury-looking Rotterdam
+friend of Jeekes&rsquo;s was ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Robin jumped into the car and sat down on the back seat next to the
+secretary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It happens,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that I am particularly anxious to see
+Miss Trevert. As I gather you are going to meet her, I feel sure you
+won&rsquo;t mind my accompanying you ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The yellow-faced man turned with an easy smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sorry,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but we are having a meeting with Miss
+Trevert on private business and I&rsquo;m afraid we cannot take you along.
+Jeekes here, however, could take a message to Miss Trevert and if she
+<i>wanted</i> to see you ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He broke off significantly and smiled slily at the secretary. Robin felt
+himself flush. So Jeekes had been telling tales out of school to Mr. Victor,
+had he? The young man squared his jaw. That settled it. He would stay.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I promise not to butt in on your private business,&rdquo; he replied,
+&ldquo;but I simply must see Miss Trevert before I go back to London. So, if
+you don&rsquo;t mind, I think I&rsquo;ll come along ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The yellow-faced man glanced at his wrist watch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t prevent you!&rdquo; he exclaimed. Then he rapped out
+something in Dutch to Jeekes. The secretary leaned forward to catch the remark.
+The yellow-faced man threw in the clutch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Goed!&rdquo; (good), answered Jeekes in the same language, and resumed
+his seat as the car glided smoothly away from the kerb into the traffic of the
+busy square. Robin settled himself back in the seat with an inaudible sigh of
+satisfaction. He did not like the look of Jeekes&rsquo;s companion, he told
+himself, and Mr. Victor, whoever he was, had certainly manifested no great
+desire for Robin&rsquo;s company. But he was going to see Mary. That was all
+that counted for the moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They threaded their way through the streets in silence. It passed through
+Robin&rsquo;s mind to start a discussion with Jeekes about the death of Hartley
+Parrish. But in the circumstances he conceived it might easily assume a
+controversial character, and he did not want to take any risk of jeopardizing
+his chance of meeting Mary again. And no other subject of conversation occurred
+to him. He did not know Jeekes at all well, knew him in fact only as a week-end
+guest knows the private secretary of his host, a shadowy personality,
+indispensable and part of the household, but scarcely more than a name ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The car had put on speed as they left the more crowded streets and emerged into
+the suburbs. Now they were running over a broad straight main road lined with
+poplars. Robin wondered whither they were bound. He was about to put the
+question to the secretary when the man Victor turned his head and said over his
+shoulder:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>Nu</i>!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the same moment the speed of the car sensibly diminished.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Jeekes put his arm across the young man at his side.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That door,&rdquo; he said, touching his sleeve, &ldquo;doesn&rsquo;t
+seem to be properly shut. Would you mind ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin pushed the door with his hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It seems all right,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Permit me ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The secretary stretched across and pulled back the latch, releasing the door.
+It swung out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now close it,&rdquo; said Mr. Jeekes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The door was flapping to and fro with the swaying of the car over the rough
+road and Robin had to half rise in order to comply with the request. He was
+leaning forward, steadying himself with one hand grasping the back of the
+driving-seat, when he received a tremendous shove in the back. At the same
+moment the car seemed to leap forward: he made a desperate effort to regain his
+balance, failed, and was whirled out head foremost on to the side of the road.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Fortunately for himself he fell soft. The road ran here through a little wood
+of young oak and beech which came right down to the edge of the
+<i>chaussée</i>. The ground was deep in withered leaves which, with the rain
+and the water draining from the road&rsquo;s high camber, were soft and soggy.
+Robin went full length into this muss with a thud that shook every bone in his
+body. His left leg, catching in a bare gorse-bush, acted as a brake and stopped
+him from rolling farther. He sat up, his mouth full of mud and his hair full of
+wet leaves, and felt himself carefully over. He contemplated rather ruefully a
+long rent in the left leg of his trousers just across the knee.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jeekes!&rdquo; he murmured; &ldquo;he pushed me out! The dirty
+dog!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he remembered that, with the men in the car gone, he had lost trace again
+of Mary Trevert. His forcible ejection from the car was evidence enough of
+their determination to deal with Mary without interference from outside. It
+looked ominous. Robin sprang to his feet and rushed to the middle of the road.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The <i>chaussée</i> was absolutely empty. About a hundred yards from where he
+stood in the direction in which the car had been travelling the road made a
+sharp bend to the right, thus curtailing his view. Robin did not hesitate. Not
+waiting to retrieve his hat or even to wipe the mud from his face, he started
+off at a brisk run along the road in the direction in which the car had
+disappeared. He had not gone far before he found that his heavy overcoat was
+seriously impeding him. He stripped it off and, folding it, hid it beneath a
+bush just inside the plantation. Then he ran on again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Fresh disappointment awaited him when he rounded the bend in the road. A few
+hundred yards on the road turned again. There was no sign of the car. A cart
+piled high with manure was approaching, the driver, wearing wooden shoes and
+cracking at intervals a huge whip, trudging at the side.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin stopped him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Motor-car? Automobile?&rdquo; he asked pointing in the direction from
+which the cart had come. The driver stared at him with a look of owlish
+stupidity.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Automobile?&rdquo; repeated Robin. &ldquo;Tuff-Tuff?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Very slowly a grin suffused the carter&rsquo;s grimy face. He showed a row of
+broken black teeth. A tiny stream of saliva escaped from the corner of his
+mouth and trickled over the reddish stubble on his chin. Then he continued his
+way, turning his head every now and then to display his idiot&rsquo;s grin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Damnation!&rdquo; exclaimed Robin, starting to run again. &ldquo;Not a
+soul to ask in this accursed desert except the village idiot! Oh! that Jeekes!
+I&rsquo;ll wring his blinking neck when I get hold of him!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was furious with himself for the abject way in which he had been fooled. The
+man Victor had given Jeekes his orders in Dutch and had purposely picked a soft
+spot on the roadside and slowed down the car in order that the unwelcome
+intruder might be ejected as safely as possible. And to think that Robin had
+blandly allowed Jeekes to open the door and throw him out on the road!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was round the second bend now. The sun was shining with a quite respectable
+warmth and the steamy air made him desperately hot. The perspiration rolled off
+his face. But he never slackened his gait. Robin knew these Continental roads
+and their habit of running straight. He reckoned confidently on presently
+coming upon a long stretch where he might discern the car.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was not deceived. After the second bend the <i>chaussée</i>, just as he
+anticipated, straightened out and ran clear away between an ever-narrowing
+double line of poplars to become a bluish blob on the horizon. But of the car
+nothing was to be seen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For the second time Robin pulled up. He took serious counsel with himself. He
+estimated that he could see for about three miles along the road. Less than
+three minutes had elapsed since his misadventure, and therefore he was
+confident that the car should yet be in sight, unless it had left the road, for
+it could not have warmed up to a speed exceeding sixty miles an hour in the
+time. There was no sign of the car on the road, consequently it must have left
+it. Robin had passed no side roads between the scene of the accident and the
+second bend; therefore, he argued, he had the car before him still. He would go
+on.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When he started off for the third time, it was at a brisk walking pace. As he
+went he kept a sharp lookout to right and left of the road for any trace of the
+car. It never occurred to him that to follow on foot a swift car bound for an
+unknown destination was the maddest kind of wild-goose chase. He was profoundly
+uneasy about Mary, but at the same time immeasurably angered by the trick
+played upon him&mdash;angered not so much against Jeekes as against the
+sallow-faced man whom he recognized as its inceptor. He had no thought for
+anything else.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The flat Dutch landscape stretched away on either side of the road. A windmill
+or two, the inevitable irrigation canals with their little sluices, and an
+occasional tree alone broke the monotony of the scene. But away to the right
+Robin noticed a clump of trees which, he surmised, might conceivably enclose a
+house.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he walked, he scrutinized the roadway for any track of a car. But on the
+hard brick <i>pavé</i> wheels left no mark. The first side road he came to was
+likewise paved in brick. In grave perplexity Robin came to a halt.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then his eye fell upon a puddle. It lay on the edge of the footpath bordering
+the <i>chaussée</i> about five yards beyond the turning. The soft mud which
+skirted it showed the punched-out pattern of a studded tyre! The car had not
+taken this side road, at any rate. It had probably pulled over on to the
+footpath to pass the manure cart which Robin had met. He pushed on again
+valiantly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Another hundred yards brought him to a second side road. There was no
+<i>pavé</i> here, but a soft sandy surface. And it bore, clearly imprinted in
+the mud, the fresh tracks of a car as it had turned off the road.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Breaking into a run Robin followed the track down the turning. It led him to a
+black gate beyond which was a twisting gravel drive fringed with high laurels.
+And the gravel showed the same tyre marks as the road.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He vaulted the gate lightly and ran up the drive. He was revolving in his head
+what his next move should be. Should he walk boldly into the house and confront
+Jeekes and his rascally looking companion or should he first spy out the ground
+and try to ascertain whether Mary had arrived? He decided on the latter course.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Accordingly, when an unexpected turn of the drive brought him in view of a
+white porch, he left the avenue and took cover behind the laurel bushes.
+Walking softly on the wet grass and keeping well down behind the laurels, he
+went forward parallel with the drive. It ran into a clean courtyard with a
+coachhouse or garage on one side and a small green door, seemingly a side
+entrance into the house, on the other.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was no one in the courtyard and the house seemed perfectly quiet. From
+his post of observation behind the laurels, Robin observed that a tall window
+beside the green door commanded the view across the courtyard. He therefore
+retraced his steps by the way he had come. When he was past the corner of the
+house, he returned to the drive and keeping close to the bushes walked quietly
+into the courtyard. There, hugging the wall, he crept round past the closed
+doors of the garage until he found himself beside the tall window adjoining the
+green door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The window was open a few inches at the top. From within the sound of voices
+reached him. Jeekes was speaking. Robin recognized his rather grating voice at
+once.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;... no more violence,&rdquo; he was saying; &ldquo;first Greve and now
+the girl. I don&rsquo;t like your methods, Victor ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Very cautiously Robin dropped on one knee and shuffled forward in this position
+until his eyes were on a level with the window-sill. He found himself looking
+into a narrow room, well lighted by a second window at the farther end. It was
+apparently an office, for there was a high desk running down the centre and a
+large safe occupied a prominent place against the wall.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Jeekes and the man Victor stood chatting at the desk. The yellow-faced man was
+grinning sardonically.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Parrish don&rsquo;t like your methods, I&rsquo;ll be bound,&rdquo; he
+retorted. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you worry about the little lady, Jeekes! Bless
+your heart, I won&rsquo;t hurt her unless ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The loud throbbing of a car at the front of the house made Robin duck his head
+hastily. The car, he guessed, might be round at the garage any moment and it
+would not do for him to be discovered. He got clear of the window, rose to his
+feet, and tiptoed round the house by the way he had come. Then he crossed the
+drive and regained the shelter of the laurels. Crawling along until he came
+level with the porch, he peeped through.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert was just entering the house.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap24"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.<br />
+THE METAMORPHOSIS OF MR. SCHULZ</h2>
+
+<p>
+As the girl collapsed, the yellow-faced man, with an adroit movement, whisked
+the handkerchief off her face and crammed it into his pocket. Then, while he
+supported her with one arm, with the other he thrust at the door to close it.
+Without paying further attention to it, he turned and, bending down, lifted the
+girl without an effort off her feet and carried her across the room to the
+Chesterfield, upon which he laid her at full length. Then he seized her muff,
+which dangled from her neck by a thin platinum chain.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Suddenly he heard the door behind him creak. In a flash he remembered that he
+had not heard the click of the lock as he had thrust the door to. He was
+springing erect when a firm hand gripped him by the back of the collar and
+pulled him away from the couch. He staggered back, striving to regain his
+balance, but then a savage shove flung him head foremost into the fireplace. He
+fell with a crash among the fire-irons. But he was on his feet again in an
+instant.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He saw a tall, athletic-looking young man standing at the couch. He had a
+remarkably square jaw; his eyes were shining and he breathed heavily. He wore a
+blue serge suit which was heavily besmeared with white plaster and the trousers
+were rent across one knee. Straight at his throat sprang the yellow-faced man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Something struck him halfway. The young man had waited composedly for his
+coming, but as his assailant advanced, had shot out his left hand. There was a
+sharp crack and the yellow-faced man, reeling, dropped face downwards on the
+carpet without a sound. In his fall his foot caught a small table on which a
+vase of chrysanthemums stood, and the whole thing went over with a loud crash.
+He made a spasmodic effort to rise, hoisted himself on to his knees, swayed
+again, and then collapsed full length on the floor, where he lay motionless.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The sound of the fall seemed to awaken the girl. She stirred uneasily once or
+twice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What ... what is it?&rdquo; she muttered, and was still again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bending down, the young man gathered her up in his arms and bore her out
+through the door with the blue curtain, through a plainly furnished sort of
+office with high desks and stools, and out by a side door into a paved yard.
+There an open car was standing. The fresh air seemed to revive the girl
+further. As the young man laid her on the seat, she struggled up into a sitting
+position and passed her hand across her forehead.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is the matter with me?&rdquo; she said in a dazed voice; &ldquo;I
+feel so ill!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then, catching sight of the young man as he peered into her face, she
+exclaimed:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Robin!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank God, you&rsquo;re all right, Mary,&rdquo; said Robin.
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve not got a moment to lose. We must get away from here
+quick!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was at the bonnet cranking up the car. But the engine, chilled by the cold
+air, refused to start. As he was straining at the handle, a man dashed suddenly
+into the yard by the office door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was Jeekes. The little secretary was a changed man. He still wore his
+<i>pince-nez</i>. But his mild air had utterly forsaken him. His face was
+livid, the eyes bulged horribly from his head, and his whole body was trembling
+with emotion. In his hand he held an automatic pistol. He came so fast that he
+was at the car and had covered Robin with his weapon before the other had seen
+him come.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Jeekes left Robin no time to act. He called out in a voice that rang like a
+pistol shot:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hands up, Mr. Smartie! Quick, d&rsquo;you hear? Put &rsquo;em up, damn
+you!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Slowly, defiantly the young man raised his arms above his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Jeekes stood close to the driver&rsquo;s seat, having prudently put the car
+between himself and Robin. As he stood there, his automatic levelled at the
+young man, a remarkable thing happened. A black, soft surface suddenly fell
+over his face and was pulled back with a brisk tug. Mary Trevert, standing up
+in the back seat of the car, had flung her fur over the secretary&rsquo;s head
+from behind and caught him in a noose. Before Mr. Jeekes could disentangle
+himself, Robin was at his throat and had borne him to the ground. The pistol
+was knocked skilfully from his hand and fell clattering on the flags. Robin
+pounced down on it. Then for the first time he smiled, a sunny smile that lit
+up his blue eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bravo, Mary!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;That <i>was</i> an idea! Now, then,
+Jeekes,&rdquo; he ordered, &ldquo;crank up that car. And be quick about it! We
+want to be off!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little secretary was a lamentable sight. He was bleeding from a cut on the
+forehead, his clothes were covered with dust, and his glasses had been broken
+in his fall. Peering helplessly about him, he walked to the bonnet of the car
+and sullenly grasped the handle. The smile had left Robin&rsquo;s face, and
+Mary noticed that he looked several times anxiously at the office door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then suddenly the engine bit. Handing the pistol to the girl, Robin warned
+her to keep the secretary covered and, leaping into the driving-seat, turned
+the car into the avenue which curved round the house.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Jeekes made no further show of fight. He remained standing in the centre of
+the courtyard, a ludicrous, rather pathetic, figure. As the tyres of the car
+gritted on the gravel of the drive, the office door was flung open and the
+yellow-faced man ran out, brandishing a big revolver.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; he shouted and levelled his weapon. The car seemed to leap
+forward and took the sharp turn on two wheels just as the man fired. The bullet
+struck the wall of the house and sent up a shower of plaster. Before he could
+fire again the car was round the house and out of sight. But as the car whizzed
+round the turn an instant before the yellow-faced man fired, the girl heard a
+sharp cry from Jeekes:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t, Victor ...!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The rest of the sentence was lost in the roar of the engine as the car raced
+away down the drive.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They left the avenue in a splutter of wet gravel. The gate still stood open.
+They wheeled furiously into the side road and regained the <i>chaussée</i>. As
+yet there was no sign of pursuit. The car rocked dangerously over the broken
+<i>pavé</i>, so Robin, after a glance behind, steadied her down to an easier
+pace. Mary, who looked very pale and ill, was lying back on the back seat with
+her eyes closed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They ran easily into Rotterdam as, with a terrific jangle of tunes played
+jerkily on the chimes, the clocks were striking two. Robin slowed down as they
+approached the centre of the city.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where are you staying, Mary?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had to repeat the question several times before she gave him the address.
+Then he found himself in a quandary. He was in a strange town and did not know
+a word of the language so as to be able to ask the way. However, he solved the
+difficulty without great trouble. He beckoned to a newspaper boy on the square
+outside the Bourse and, holding up a two-gulden piece, indicated by signs that
+he desired him as a guide. The boy comprehended readily enough and, springing
+on the footboard of the car, brought them safely to the hotel.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin left Mary and the car in charge of the boy and went to the office and
+asked to see the manager. He had decided upon the story he must tell.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Trevert,&rdquo; he said, when the manager, a blond and suave Swiss,
+had presented himself, &ldquo;has been to the dentist and has been rather upset
+by the gas. Would you get one of the maids to help her up to her room and in
+the meantime telephone for a doctor. If there is an English doctor in
+Rotterdam, I should prefer to have him!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The manager clicked in sympathy. He despatched a lady typist and a chambermaid
+to help Mary out of the car.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For a doctor,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it ees fortunate. We &rsquo;ave an
+English doctor staying in ze hotel now&mdash;a sheep&rsquo;s doctor. He is in
+ze lounge. Eef you come, <i>hein?</i>&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The &ldquo;sheep&rsquo;s doctor&rdquo; proved to be a doctor off one of the big
+liners, a clean-shaven, red-faced, hearty sort of person who readily
+volunteered his services. As Robin was about to follow him into the lift, the
+manager stopped him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Zere was a shentleman call to see Mees Trevert,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;two or three time &rsquo;e been &rsquo;ere ... a Sherman shentleman.
+&rsquo;E leave &rsquo;er a note ... will you take it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Greatly puzzled, Robin Greve balanced in his hands the letter which the manager
+produced from a pigeon-hole. Then he tore open the envelope.
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+D<small>EAR</small> M<small>ISS</small> T<small>REVERT</small> [he read], I was
+extremely sorry to miss you this morning. Directly I received your message I
+called at your hotel, but, though I have been back twice, I have not found you
+in. Circumstances have arisen which make it imperative that I should see you as
+soon as possible. This is <i>most urgent</i>. I will come back at four
+o&rsquo;clock, as I cannot get away before. Do not leave the hotel <i>on any
+pretext</i> until you have seen me and Dulkinghorn&rsquo;s letter as
+identification. You are in <i>grave danger</i>.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The note was signed &ldquo;W. Schulz.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;H&rsquo;m,&rdquo; was Robin&rsquo;s comment; &ldquo;he writes like an
+Englishman, anyway.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He ascertained the number of Mary Trevert&rsquo;s room and went up to her floor
+in the lift. He waited in the corridor outside the room for the doctor to
+emerge, and lit a cigarette to while away the time. It was not until he had
+nearly finished his second cigarette that the doctor appeared.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The doctor hesitated on seeing Robin. Then he stepped close up to him. Robin
+noticed that his red face was more flushed than usual and his eyes were
+troubled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s this cock-and-bull story about gas you&rsquo;ve put up to
+the manager?&rdquo; he said bluntly in a low voice. &ldquo;The girl&rsquo;s
+been doped with chloroform, as well you know. You&rsquo;ll be good enough to
+come downstairs to the manager with me ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin took out his note-case and produced a card.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s my name,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll see that
+I&rsquo;m a barrister ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; said the doctor in a non-committal voice after he had read
+the card.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not surprised to hear you say that Miss Trevert has been
+doped,&rdquo; Robin remarked. &ldquo;I found her here in a house on the
+outskirts of Rotterdam in the hands of two men, one of whom is believed to be
+implicated in a mysterious case of suspected murder in England. Through the
+part he played this morning, he has probably run his head into the noose. But
+he&rsquo;ll have it out again if we delay an instant. I told the manager that
+yarn about the dentist to avoid enquiries and waste of time. I have here a note
+from some man I don&rsquo;t know, addressed to Miss Trevert, warning her of a
+grave danger threatening her. It corroborates to some extent what I have told
+you. Here ... read it for yourself!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He handed the doctor the note signed &ldquo;W. Schulz.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The doctor read it through carefully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What I would propose to you,&rdquo; said Robin, &ldquo;is that we two
+should go off at once to this Herr Schulz and find out exactly what he knows.
+Then we can decide what action there is to be taken ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He paused for the doctor&rsquo;s reply. The latter searched Robin&rsquo;s face
+with a glance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m your man,&rdquo; he said shortly. &ldquo;And, by the way, my
+name&rsquo;s Collingwood ... Robert Collingwood.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s a car downstairs,&rdquo; said Robin, &ldquo;and a guide to
+show us the way. Shall we go?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Five minutes later, under the newsboy&rsquo;s expert guidance, the car drew up
+in front of the small clean house with the neat green door bearing the name of
+&ldquo;Schulz.&rdquo; Leaving the boy to mind the car, they rang the bell. The
+door was opened by the fat woman in the pink print dress.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin gave the woman his card. On it he had written &ldquo;About Miss
+Trevert.&rdquo; Speaking in German the woman bade them rather roughly to bide
+where they were, and departed after closing the front door in their faces. She
+did not keep them waiting long, however, for in about a minute she returned.
+Herr Schulz would receive the gentlemen, she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Within, the house was spotlessly clean with that characteristic German house
+odour which always seems to be a compound of cleaning material and hot grease.
+Up a narrow staircase, furnished in plain oil-cloth with brass stair-rods, they
+went to a landing on the first floor. Here the woman motioned them back and,
+bending her head in a listening attitude, knocked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>Herein</i>!&rdquo; cried a guttural German voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The room into which they entered would have been entitled to a place in any
+museum for showing the mode of life of the twentieth-century Germans. With its
+stuffy red rep curtains, its big green majolica stove, its heavy mahogany
+furniture, its oleographs of Bismarck, Roon, and Moltke, it might have been
+lifted bodily from a bourgeois house in the Fatherland.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A man was sitting at a mahogany roll-top desk as they entered. The air in the
+room was thick with the fumes of the cheap Dutch cigar he was smoking. He was a
+sturdily built fellow with blond hair shaven so close to the skull that at a
+distance he seemed to be bald.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the sound of their entrance, he rose and faced them. When he stood erect the
+sturdiness of his build became accentuated, and they saw he was a man of medium
+height, but so muscular that he looked much shorter. A pair of large
+tortoise-shell spectacles straddled a big beak-like nose, and he wore a
+heavyish blond moustache with its points trained upwards and outwards rather
+after the fashion made famous in the Fatherland by William Hohenzollern. In his
+ill-cut suit of cheap-looking blue serge, which he wore with a pea-green tie,
+Robin thought he looked altogether a typical specimen of the German of the
+non-commissioned officer class.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You ask for me?&rdquo; he said in deep guttural accents, looking at
+Robin; &ldquo;I am Herr Schulz!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The German&rsquo;s manner was cold and formal and Robin felt a little dashed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My name is Greve,&rdquo; he began rather hurriedly. &ldquo;I understand
+you received a visit to-day from a young English lady, a Miss Trevert
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The German let his eyes travel slowly from Robin to the doctor and back again.
+He did not offer them a chair and all three remained standing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ye-es, and what if I did?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin felt his temper rising.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You wrote a note to Miss Trevert at her hotel warning her that she was
+in danger. I want to know why you warned her. What led you to suppose that she
+was threatened?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Herr Schulz made a little gesture of the hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wass I not right to warn her?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed, you were,&rdquo; Robin asserted with conviction. &ldquo;She was
+spirited away and drugged.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The German started. A frowning pucker appeared just above the bridge of his big
+spectacles and he raised his head quickly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Drugged?&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said Robin. &ldquo;This gentleman with me is a doctor
+... Dr. Robert Collingwood, of the Red Lion Line. He has examined Miss Trevert
+and can corroborate my statement.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Gad!&rdquo; exclaimed Herr Schulz&mdash;and this time his English was
+faultless and fluent&mdash;&ldquo;Shut that door behind you, Mr. Greve, and
+shoot the bolt&mdash;that&rsquo;s it just below the knob! Sit down, sit down,
+and while I mix you a drink, you shall tell me about this!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap25"></a>CHAPTER XXV.<br />
+THE READING OF THE RIDDLE</h2>
+
+<p>
+In uttering those words Herr Schulz seemed suddenly to become loose-limbed and
+easy. His plethoric rigidity of manner vanished, and, though he spoke with a
+brisk air of authority, there was a jovial ring in his voice which instantly
+inspired confidence. With the change the illusion supported by his appalling
+clothes was broken and he looked like a man dressed up for charades.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you&mdash;English?&rdquo; asked Robin in astonishment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Only in this room,&rdquo; was the dry reply, &ldquo;and don&rsquo;t you
+or our friend, the doctor, here forget it. You&rsquo;ll both take whisky? Three
+fingers will do you good, Mr. Greve, for I see you&rsquo;ve had a roughish time
+this morning. Say when!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He spurted a siphon into three glasses.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Before we go any farther,&rdquo; he went on, &ldquo;perhaps I had better
+identify myself&mdash;to save any further misunderstandings, don&rsquo;t you
+know? Do either of you gentlemen happen to know a party called Dulkinghorn? You
+may have heard of him, Mr. Greve, for I can see you have been in the army
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not Ernest Dulkinghorn, of the War Office?&rdquo; asked Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The identical party!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never met him,&rdquo; said Robin. &ldquo;But I was at the War Office
+for a bit before I was demobilized and I heard fellows speak of him.
+Counter-espionage, isn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right,&rdquo; nodded Herr Schulz. &ldquo;You can read his
+letter to me introducing Miss Trevert.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He handed a sheet of paper to Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+D<small>EAR</small> S<small>CHULZ</small> [it ran], Victor Marbran&rsquo;s push
+appear to be connected with Hartley Parrish, who has just met his death under
+suspicious circumstances. You will have read about it in the English papers.
+Miss Trevert was engaged to H.P. and has a letter from Elias van der Spyck and
+Company which she found on Parrish&rsquo;s desk after his death. I should say
+that the Marbran-Parrish connection would repay investigation.
+</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+Yours<br />
+E. D<small>ULKINGHORN</small>
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+P.S. The letter is, of course, in conventional code.
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+P.P.S. Don&rsquo;t frighten the life out of the Trevert girl, you unsympathetic
+brute!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin read the letter through to the end.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then Mary Trevert has this letter from Rotterdam which we have been
+hunting for!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;Have you seen it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Herr Schulz shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Trevert called here this morning,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;when I was
+out. She gave her letter to Frau Wirth, my housekeeper, with her card and
+address. Frau Wirth was cleaning the plate on the front door and, a moment
+after Miss Trevert had gone, a fellow appeared and said he was a friend of Miss
+Trevert who had made a mistake and left the wrong letter. My housekeeper is
+well trained and wouldn&rsquo;t give the letter up. But she made the fatal
+mistake of telling the fellow exactly what he wanted to know, and that was who
+the letter was addressed to. &lsquo;The letter is addressed to Herr
+Schulz,&rsquo; said this excellent woman, &lsquo;and if there&rsquo;s any
+mistake he will find it out when he opens it.&rsquo; And with that she told him
+to clear out. Which, having got all he wanted, he was glad enough to do!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What was this chap like?&rdquo; asked Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The big man shrugged his shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can teach my servants discretion,&rdquo; he replied whimsically,
+&ldquo;but I can&rsquo;t teach &rsquo;em to use their eyes. Frau Wirth could
+remember nothing about this fellow except that he wasn&rsquo;t tall and wore a
+brown overcoat ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jeekes!&rdquo; cried Robin, slapping his thigh. &ldquo;He must have been
+actually coming away from your place when I met him ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And who,&rdquo; asked the big man, reflectively contemplating the amber
+fluid in his glass, &ldquo;who is Jeekes?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In reply Robin told him the story of Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s death, his growing
+certainty that the millionaire had been murdered, the mysterious letters on
+slatey-blue paper, and Jeekes&rsquo;s endeavor to burke the investigations by
+throwing on Robin the suspicion of having driven Parrish to suicide by threats.
+He told of his chance meeting with Jeekes in Rotterdam that morning, his
+adventure at the Villa Bergendal, his finding and rescue of Mary Trevert, and
+their escape.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Herr Schulz listened attentively and without interruption until Robin had
+reached the end of his story.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s one thing you haven&rsquo;t explained,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;and that&rsquo;s how Miss Trevert came to walk into the hands of these
+precious ruffians ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There, perhaps, I can help you,&rdquo; said the doctor from behind one
+of Herr Schulz&rsquo;s rank cigars; &ldquo;I have it from Miss Trevert herself.
+Some one impersonating you Mr.&mdash;er, ahem,&mdash;Schulz&mdash;telephoned
+her this morning, after she had left her letter of introduction here, asking
+her to come out to lunch at your country-house. She suspected nothing and went
+off in the car they sent for her ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By George!&rdquo; said the big man thoughtfully; &ldquo;I suspected some
+game of this kind when I heard of the attempt to get at that letter of
+introduction. If I only could have got hold of Marbran this morning ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Marbran!&rdquo; said Robin thoughtfully. &ldquo;When I read
+Dulkinghorn&rsquo;s letter just now I thought I had heard that name before. Of
+course&mdash;Victor Marbran! That was it! I remember now! He knew Hartley
+Parrish in the old days. Parrish once said that Marbran would do him an injury
+if he could. Who is Marbran, sir?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All unconsciously he paid the tribute of &lsquo;sir&rsquo; to Herr
+Schulz&rsquo;s undoubted habit of command.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Victor Marbran,&rdquo; replied the big man, &ldquo;is Elias van der
+Spyck &amp; Co., a firm which made millions in the war by trading with the
+enemy. In every neutral country there were, of course, firms which specialized
+in importing contraband for the use of the Germans, but van der Spyck &amp; Co.
+brought the evasion of the blockade to a fine art. They covered up their
+tracks, however, with such consummate art that we could never bring anything
+home to them. In fact, it was only after the armistice that we began to learn
+something of the immense scope of their operations. There was a master brain
+behind them. But it was never discovered. It strikes me, however, that we are
+on the right track at last ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Jove ...!&rdquo; exclaimed Robin impressively. &ldquo;Hartley
+Parrish!...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The big man raised a hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>Attentions!</i>&rdquo; he interposed suavely. &ldquo;The chain is not
+yet complete. I wonder what this van der Spyck letter of Miss Trevert&rsquo;s
+contained that made Victor Marbran and the secretary chap so desperately
+anxious to get hold of it. For you understand, don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; he said
+briskly, turning to Robin, &ldquo;that they were after that and that alone. And
+they risked penal servitude in this country to get it ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To save their necks in another,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have the letter here,&rdquo; mildly remarked the doctor from his
+corner of the room. &ldquo;Miss Trevert gave it to me!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He produced a white envelope and drew from it a folded square of slatey-blue
+paper. In great excitement Robin sprang forward.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re a downy bird, Doctor, I must say,&rdquo; he remarked,
+&ldquo;fancy keeping it up your sleeve all this time!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He eagerly took the letter, spread it out on the table, and read it through
+whilst Herr Schulz looked over his shoulder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Code, eh?&rdquo; commented the big man, shaking his head humorously.
+&ldquo;If it beats Dulkinghorn, it beats me!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+From his note-case Robin now drew a folded square of paper identical in colour
+with the letter spread out before them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I found this on the carpet beside Parrish&rsquo;s body,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;Look, it&rsquo;s exactly the same paper ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Behind the tortoise-shell spectacles the big man&rsquo;s eyes narrowed down to
+pin-points as he caught sight of the sheet which Robin unfolded and its series
+of slits.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Aha!&rdquo; he cried&mdash;and his voice rang out clear through the
+room&mdash;&ldquo;the grill, eh? Well, well, to think of that!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He took the slotted sheet of paper from Robin&rsquo;s hands and laid it over
+the letter so that it exactly covered it, edge to edge and corner to corner. In
+this way the greater part of the typewriting in the letter was covered over,
+and only the words appearing in the slots could be read. And thus it was that
+Robin Greve, Herr Schulz, and Dr. Collingwood, leaning shoulder to shoulder,
+read the message that came to Hartley Parrish in the library at Harkings....
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK &amp; CO.
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+GENERAL IMPORTERS
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+ROTTERDAM Rotterdam 25th Nov.
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<i>Codes</i><br />
+A.B.C.<br />
+Liebler&rsquo;s
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<i>Personal</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+Dear Mr. Parrish,
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+Your favour of even date to hand and contents noted. <i>The last</i> delivery
+of steel was to time but we have had <i>warning</i> from the railway
+authorities that labour troubles at the docks are likely to delay future
+consignments. <i>If you don&rsquo;t</i> mind we should prefer to <i>settle</i>
+the question of future delivery <i>by Nov. 27</i> as we have a board meeting on
+the 30th inst. While we fully appreciate your own difficulties with labour at
+home, <i>you</i> will understand that this is a question which we cannot afford
+to adjourn <i>sine</i> <i>die.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+Yours faithfully,<br />
+pro ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK &amp; CO.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;The last ... warning,&rsquo;&rdquo; Robin read out,
+&ldquo;&lsquo;if you don&rsquo;t ... settle ... by Nov. 27 ... you ... die
+...!&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked up. &ldquo;Last Saturday,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;was the 27th, the
+day that Parrish died ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The grill,&rdquo; remarked the big man authoritatively, &ldquo;is one of
+the oldest dodges known to the Secret Service. It renders a conventional code
+absolutely undecipherable as long as it is skilfully worded, as it is in this
+case. You send your conventional code by one route, your key by another. I make
+no doubt that this was the way in which van der Spyck &amp; Co. transacted
+their business with Hartley Parrish. They simply posted their conventional code
+letters through the post in the ordinary way, confident that there was nothing
+in them to catch the eye of the Censor&rsquo;s Department. The key might be
+sent in half a dozen different ways, by hand, concealed in a newspaper, in a
+parcel ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So this,&rdquo; said Robin, pointing at the letter, &ldquo;was what
+caused Hartley Parrish to make his will. It would lead one to suppose that it
+was what induced him to commit suicide were not the presumption so strong that
+he was murdered. But who killed him? Was it Jeekes or Marbran?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Herr Schulz pitched his cigar-stump into an ash-tray.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is the question which I am going to ask you
+gentlemen to help me answer. You will realize that legally we have not a leg to
+stand on. We are in a foreign country where, without first getting a warrant
+from London, we can take no steps whatever to run these fellows in. To get the
+Dutch police to move against these gentry in the matter of the assault upon
+Miss Trevert would waste valuable time. And we have to move
+quickly&mdash;before these two lads can get away. I therefore propose that we
+start this instant for the Villa Bergendal and try, if we are not too late, to
+force Marbran or Jeekes or both of them to a confession. That done, we can hold
+them if possible until we can get the Dutch police to apprehend them at the
+instance of Miss Trevert. Then we can communicate with the English police.
+It&rsquo;s all quite illegal, of course! You have a car, I think, Mr. Greve!
+You will come with us, Dr. Collingwood? Good! Then let us start at once!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin intervened with a proposal that they should call <i>en route</i> at his
+hotel to see if there were any telegrams for him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Manderton knows I am in Rotterdam,&rdquo; he explained, &ldquo;and he
+promised to wire me the latest developments in the enquiry he is
+conducting.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Trevert should be fully recovered by this,&rdquo; put in the
+doctor; &ldquo;apart from a little sickness she is really none the worse for
+her disagreeable experience. If there was anything you wanted to ask her
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is,&rdquo; said Robin promptly. &ldquo;Her reply to one
+question,&rdquo; he explained, turning to Herr Schulz, &ldquo;will give us the
+certainty that Parrish was murdered and did not commit suicide. It will not
+delay us more than five minutes to stop at her hotel in passing, We will then
+call in at my place. We should be at the Villa within half an hour from now
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; said Herr Schulz as they prepared to go, &ldquo;I know
+my Mr. Victor Marbran. You should all be armed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin produced the pistol he had taken from Jeekes. Herr Schulz slipped a
+Browning pistol into the breast-pocket of his jacket and, producing a
+long-barrelled service revolver, gave it to the doctor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There are three of them, I gather, counting the chauffeur,&rdquo;
+commented the big man, pulling on his overcoat, &ldquo;so we shall be equally
+matched.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Darkness had fallen upon Rotterdam and the lights from the houses made yellow
+streaks in the water of the canal as the car, piloted by Robin, drove the party
+to Mary Trevert&rsquo;s hotel.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They found the girl, pale and anxious, in the lounge.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, now,&rdquo; cried the doctor breezily, &ldquo;and how are you
+feeling? Did you take my advice and have some tea?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What has happened?&rdquo; asked the girl; &ldquo;I have been so anxious
+about you ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her words were addressed to the doctor, but she looked at Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mary,&rdquo; said Robin, &ldquo;we are very near the truth now. But
+there is one thing you can tell us. It is very important. When you heard the
+shot in the library at Harkings, did you notice any other sound&mdash;before or
+after?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl paused to think.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There was a sort of sharp cry and a thud ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know. But was there anything else? Do try and remember. It&rsquo;s so
+important!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl was silent for a moment. Then she said slowly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, there was, now I come to think of it. Just as I tried the
+door&mdash;it was locked, you know&mdash;there was a sort of hiss, harsh and
+rather loud, from the room ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A sort of hiss, eh? Something like a sneeze?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Only louder and ... and ... harsher!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, answer me carefully! Was this before or after the shot?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, before! Just as I was rattling the doorhandle. The shot broke in
+upon it....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin turned to Herr Schulz, who stood with a grave face by his side.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The silencer, you see, sir!&rdquo; he said. Then to Mary he added:
+&ldquo;Mary, we are going off now. But we will be back within the hour
+and....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Robin,&rdquo; the girl broke in, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t leave me alone!
+I don&rsquo;t feel safe in this place after this morning. I&rsquo;d much rather
+come with you....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mary, it&rsquo;s quite impossible....&rdquo; Robin began.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the girl had turned to a table and taken from it her hat and fur.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care!&rdquo; she exclaimed wilfully; &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+coming anyhow. I refuse to be left behind!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She smiled at Herr Schulz as she spoke, and that gentleman&rsquo;s rather grim
+face relaxed as he looked at her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not sure I wouldn&rsquo;t say the same!&rdquo; he remarked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The upshot of it was that, despite Robin&rsquo;s objections, Mary Trevert
+accompanied the party. She sat on the back seat, rather flushed and excited,
+between Herr Schulz and the doctor, while Robin took the wheel again. A few
+minutes&rsquo; drive took them to the big hotel where Robin had booked a room.
+They all waited in the car whilst he went to the office.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was back in a minute, an open telegram in his hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe I&rsquo;ve got in my pocket,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;the
+actual weapon with which Hartley Parrish was killed!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And he read from the telegram:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mastertons gunsmiths sold last July pair of Browning automatics
+identical with that found on Parrish to Jeekes who paid with Parrish&rsquo;s
+cheque.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The message was signed &ldquo;Manderton.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At that moment a man wearing a black bowler hat and a heavy frieze overcoat
+came hurrying out of the hotel.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Greve!&rdquo; he cried as Robin, who was back in the driving-seat,
+was releasing the brake. &ldquo;Did you have the wire from the Yard saying I
+was coming?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Probably I beat the telegraph, though. I
+came by air!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he tipped his hat respectfully at Herr Schulz.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is Detective-Inspector Manderton, of Scotland Yard, sir,&rdquo;
+said Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The big man beamed a smile of friendly recognition.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Manderton and I are old friends,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;How are you,
+Manderton? I didn&rsquo;t expect you to recognize me in these duds ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;d know you anywhere, sir,&rdquo; said the detective with
+unwonted cordiality.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you got your warrant, Manderton?&rdquo; asked Herr Schulz.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Aye, I have, sir,&rdquo; replied the detective. &ldquo;And I&rsquo;ve a
+colleague from the Dutch police who&rsquo;s going along with me to effect the
+arrest ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jeekes, eh?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s the party, sir, charged with wilful murder.... This is
+Commissary Boomjes, of the Rotterdam Criminal Investigation Department!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A tall man with a short black beard had approached the car. It was decided that
+the whole party should proceed to the Villa Bergendal immediately. Manderton
+sat next to Robin and the Dutch police officer perched himself on the
+footboard.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And where did you pick <i>him</i> up, I&rsquo;d like to know?&rdquo;
+whispered Manderton in Robin&rsquo;s ear with a backward jerk of the head, as
+they glided through the brightly lit streets.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;D&rsquo;you mean the doctor?&rdquo; asked Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, your other friend!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Trevert had a letter to him. Something in the Secret Service,
+isn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton snorted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Something in the Secret Service,&rsquo;&rdquo; he repeated
+disdainfully. &ldquo;Well, I should say he was. If you want to know, Mr. Greve,
+he&rsquo;s the head!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap26"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.<br />
+THE FIGURE IN THE DOORWAY</h2>
+
+<p>
+The rain was coming down in torrents and the night was black as pitch when,
+leaving the lights of Rotterdam behind, the car swung out on to the main road
+leading to the Villa Bergendal. Thanks to a powerful headlight, Robin was able
+to get a good turn of speed out of her as soon as they were clear of the city.
+As they slowed down at the gate in the side road Herr Schulz tapped him on the
+shoulder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Better leave the car here and put the lights out,&rdquo; he counselled.
+&ldquo;And Miss Trevert should stay if the doctor here would remain to look
+after her ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You think there&rsquo;ll be a scrap?&rdquo; whispered the doctor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;With a man like Marbran,&rdquo; returned the Chief, &ldquo;you never
+know what may happen ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Zere will be no faight,&rdquo; commented the Dutch police officer in
+lugubrious accents, &ldquo;my vriends, ve are too laite ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the Chief insisted that Mary should stay behind and the doctor agreed to
+act as her escort. Then in single file the party proceeded up the drive, Robin
+in front, then the Dutchman, after him the Chief, and Mr. Manderton in the
+rear.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They walked on the grass edging the avenue. On the wet turf their feet made no
+sound. When they came in view of the house, they saw it was in darkness. No
+light shone in any window, and the only sound to be heard was the melancholy
+patter of the rain drops on the laurel bushes. When they saw the porch looking
+black before them, they left the grass and stepped gently across the drive, the
+gravel crunching softly beneath their feet. Robin led the way boldly under the
+porch and laid a hand on the doorknob. The door opened easily and the next
+moment the four men were in the hall.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Robin moved to the wall to find the electric light switch, a torch was
+silently thrust into his hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Better have this, sir,&rdquo; whispered Manderton. &ldquo;I have my
+finger on the switch now, but we&rsquo;d best wait to put the light up until we
+know where they are. Where do we go first?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Into the sitting-room,&rdquo; Robin returned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Switching the torch on and off only as he required it, he crept silently over
+the heavy carpet to the door of the room in which that morning he had come upon
+Mary. Manderton remained at the switch in the hall whilst the other two men
+followed Robin through the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The room was in darkness. It struck chill; for the fire had gone out. The beam
+of the torch flitting from wall to wall showed the room to be empty.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe there&rsquo;s a soul in the house,&rdquo;
+whispered the Chief to Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ve are too laite; I have said it!&rdquo; muttered the Dutchman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is another room leading out of this,&rdquo; replied Robin, turning
+the torch on to the blue curtain covering the door leading into the office.
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have a look in there and then try upstairs. Manderton will
+give us warning if anybody comes down ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So saying he drew the curtain aside and pushed open the door. Instantly a gush
+of cold air blew the curtain back in his face. Before he could disentangle
+himself the door slammed to with a crash that shook the house.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s done it!&rdquo; muttered the Chief.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The three men stood and listened. They heard the dripping of the rain, the
+soughing of the wind, but no sound of human kind came to their ears.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The place is empty,&rdquo; whispered the Chief. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ve
+cleared ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is too laite; I have said it.&rdquo; The Dutchman spoke in a hoarse
+bass.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll go in here, anyway,&rdquo; answered Robin, lifting up the
+curtain again. &ldquo;They may have heard us and be hiding ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He opened the door, steadying it with his foot. The curtain flapped wildly
+round them as they crossed the threshold. The broad white beam of the electric
+torch swung from window to desk, from desk to safe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The door over there is open,&rdquo; exclaimed the Chief;
+&ldquo;that&rsquo;s the way they&rsquo;ve gone.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Suddenly he clutched Robin&rsquo;s arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Steady,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;look there ... in the doorway ...
+there&rsquo;s somebody moving ... quick, the torch!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The light flashed across the room, blazed for an instant on a window-pane, then
+picked out a man&rsquo;s form swaying in the doorway. He had his back to the
+room and was rocking gently to and fro with the wind which they felt cold on
+their faces.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s only a coat and trousers hanging in the door ...&rdquo; began
+Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then, with a suddenness which pained the eyes, the room was flooded with light.
+The Dutch detective stepped from the electric light switch and moved to the
+open door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Too laite!&rdquo; he cried, shaking his head; &ldquo;have I not tell
+you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Suspended by a strip of coloured stuff, the body of Mr. Jeekes dangled from the
+cross-beam of the door. The corpse oscillated in the breeze, silhouetted
+against an oblong of black sky, turning this way and that, loose, unnatural,
+horrible, and, as the body, twisting gently, faced the room, it gave a glimpse
+of startling eyes, swollen, empurpled features, protruding tongue.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Without the least trace of emotion the black-bearded detective picked up a
+rush-bottom chair and gathering up the corpse by its collar hoisted it up
+without an effort so that the feet rested on the chair. Then, producing a
+clasp-knife, he mounted the chair and, with a vigorous slash, cut the coloured
+strip which had been fastened to a staple projecting from the brickwork above
+the door on the outside of the house.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He caught the body in his arms and laid it face upwards on the matting which
+covered the floor. He busied himself for an instant at the neck, then rose with
+a twisted strip of coloured material in his hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;His braces,&rdquo; he remarked, &ldquo;very common. The stool what he
+has stood upon and knocked avay, she lies outsaide! My vriends, ve are too
+laite!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The doctor, fetched in haste by Manderton, examined the body. The man had been
+dead, he said, for several hours. Mary remained in the hall with Manderton
+while Robin and the Dutch detective went over the house. There was no trace
+either of Marbran or of the chauffeur. In the two bedrooms which showed signs
+of occupation the beds had been made up, but the ward-robes were empty.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Marbran&rsquo;s made a bolt for it,&rdquo; said Robin, coming into the
+office where he had left the Chief, &ldquo;and taken everything with him
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I gathered as much,&rdquo; answered that astute gentleman, pointing at
+the fireplace. A pile of charred paper filled the grate. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s
+nothing here, and I think we can wipe Mr. Victor Marbran off the slate. I doubt
+if we shall see him again. At any rate we can leave him to the tender mercies
+of our black-bearded friend here. As for us, I don&rsquo;t really see that
+there is anything more to detain us here ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But,&rdquo; remarked Robin, looking at the still figure on the floor,
+the face now mercifully covered by the doctor&rsquo;s white handkerchief,
+&ldquo;surely this is a confession of guilt. Has he left nothing behind in
+writing? No account of the crime?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a thing,&rdquo; responded the Chief, &ldquo;and I&rsquo;ve been
+through every drawer. Even the safe is open ... and empty!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But how does it happen then,&rdquo; asked Robin, &ldquo;that Marbran has
+legged it while Jeekes here ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Marbran left him in the lurch,&rdquo; the Chief broke in decisively.
+&ldquo;I think that&rsquo;s clear. While you were upstairs with our Dutch
+friend, I went through the dead man&rsquo;s pockets. He had no money, Greve,
+except a few coppers and a little Dutch change. He had not even got a return
+ticket to London. Which makes me think that Master Jeekes had left old England
+for good.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Another thing that puzzles me,&rdquo; remarked Robin, &ldquo;is how
+Jeekes knew that Miss Trevert had a letter to you, sir? Or, for a matter of
+that, how he knew that she had gone to Rotterdam at all?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s not hard to answer,&rdquo; said Mr. Manderton, who had just
+entered the room. &ldquo;On Sunday night Jeekes rang up Harkings from his club
+and asked to speak to Miss Trevert. Bude told him she had gone away. Jeekes
+then asked to speak to Sir Horace Trevert, who told him that his sister had
+gone to Rotterdam. Jeekes takes the first available train in the morning,
+recognizes Miss Trevert on the way across, and tags her to her hotel in
+Rotterdam. The next morning he follows her again, shadows her to Sir ... to
+this gentleman&rsquo;s rooms, and there, as we know, contrived by a trick to
+see to whom she had a letter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why did he not attempt to get the letter away from her as soon as
+she arrived? Miss Trevert never suspected Jeekes. She might have shown him the
+letter if he&rsquo;d asked her for it ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The detective shook his head sagely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jeekes was pretty &rsquo;cute,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Before letting the
+girl know he was in Rotterdam, he wanted to find out what she wanted here and
+whom she knew. Remember, he had no means of knowing if the girl suspected him
+or not ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So he devised this trick of impersonating Mr. Schulz on the telephone,
+eh?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bah!&rdquo; broke in the Chief; &ldquo;I bet that was Marbran&rsquo;s
+idea. Look at Jeekes&rsquo;s face and tell me if you see in it any feature
+indicating the bold, ingenious will to try a bluff like that. I never knew this
+fellow here. But I know Marbran, a resolute, undaunted type. You can take it
+from me, Marbran directed&mdash;Jeekes merely carried out instructions. What do
+you say, Manderton?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the detective had retired into his shell again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you will come to Harkings with me the day after to-morrow, sir, I
+shall hope to show you exactly how Mr. Parrish met his death ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no, Manderton,&rdquo; responded the Chief; &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t
+leave here for a bit. There are bigger murderers than Jeekes at liberty in
+Holland to-day ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The detective slapped his thigh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;d have laid a shade of odds,&rdquo; he cried merrily,
+&ldquo;that you were watching the gentleman at Amerongen, sir ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tut, tut, Manderton,&rdquo; said the Chief, raising his hand to silence
+the other; &ldquo;you run on too fast, my friend! I wish,&rdquo; he went on,
+changing the subject, &ldquo;I could be with you at Harkings to-morrow to
+witness your reconstruction of the crime, Manderton. You&rsquo;ll go, I
+suppose, Greve?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I certainly shall,&rdquo; answered the barrister, &ldquo;I have had some
+experience of criminals, but I must say I never saw one less endowed with
+criminal characteristics than little Jeekes. A strange character!...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Chief laughed sardonically.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Anyway,&rdquo; he remarked, &ldquo;he had a damn good notion of the end
+that befitted him ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+It was a still, starry night. The Flushing boat stood out of harbour on a calm
+sea. The high arc lamps threw a blue gleam over the deserted moles and glinted
+in the oily swell lapping the quays. From the fast-receding quayside the
+rasping of a winch echoed noisily across the silent water. On the upper deck of
+the mail-boat Robin Greve and Mary Trevert stood side by side at the rail. They
+had the deck to themselves. Above their heads on the bridge the captain stood
+immobile, a square black figure, the helmsman at his elbow. Otherwise, between
+the stars and the sea, the man and the girl were alone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Thus they had stood ever since the mail-boat had cast off from the quay. Robin
+had made some banal attempt at conversation, urging (but without much
+sincerity) that, after her experiences of the day, the girl should go to her
+cabin and rest. But Mary Trevert had merely shaken her head impatiently,
+without speaking.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently he put his arm through hers. He felt against his wrist the warm
+softness of her travelling-coat, and it seemed to him that, though the girl
+made no sign, some slight answering pressure met his touch. So they leaned upon
+the rail for a space watching the water fall hissing from the vessel&rsquo;s
+side as the steamer, jarring and quivering, met the long steady roll from the
+open sea.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Mary Trevert spoke.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Robin,&rdquo; she said gently, &ldquo;I owe you an apology ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin Greve looked at her quickly. But Mary had her eyes fixed seaward in
+contemplation of a distant light that flared and died with persistent
+regularity.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve only myself to blame.
+When you told me you were going to marry Hartley Parrish, I should have known
+that you had your reasons and that those reasons were good. I should have held
+my tongue ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This time the girl stole a glance at him. But now he was gazing away to the
+horizon where the light came and went.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All this misunderstanding between us,&rdquo; he went on, &ldquo;came
+about because of what I said in the billiard-room that afternoon ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl shook her head resolutely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;it was my fault. I&rsquo;m a proud
+devil, Robin, and what you said about Hartley and ... and ... other women,
+Robin, hurt and ... and made me angry. No, no, don&rsquo;t apologize again. You
+and I are old enough friends, my dear, to tell one another the truth. You made
+me angry because what you said was true. I <i>was</i> selling myself, selling
+myself with my eyes open, too, and you&rsquo;ve got a perfect right never to
+speak to me again ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She did not finish the sentence but broke off. Her voice died away quaveringly.
+Robin took her hand in his.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t cry! It&rsquo;s over and done
+with now ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary shook herself with an angry gesture.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the good of telling me not to cry?&rdquo; she protested
+tearfully; &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve disgraced myself in my own eyes as well as in
+yours. If you can&rsquo;t forget what I was ready to do, I never shall
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Very gently the young man turned the girl towards him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not such a prig as all that,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;We all
+make mistakes. You know I understand the position you were in. Parrish is dead.
+I shall forget the rest ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Slowly the girl withdrew her hands from his grasp.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said wearily, &ldquo;you will find it easy to
+forget!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She drew her fur closer about her neck and turned her back on the sea.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must go down,&rdquo; she said. And waited for the man to stand aside.
+He did not move and their eyes met. Suddenly, like a child, she buried her face
+in her arm flung out across his chest. She began to sob bitterly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That afternoon ... in the billiard-room ...&rdquo; she sobbed,
+&ldquo;you will forget ... that ... too ... I suppose ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin took her face in his hands, a hot, tear-stained face, and detached it
+from the sheltering arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I shall have to try to forget it. But I
+know I shan&rsquo;t succeed. To the end of my life I shall remember the kiss
+you gave me. But we are farther apart than ever now!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a great sadness in his voice. It arrested the girl&rsquo;s attention
+as he dropped his hands and turned back to the rail.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo; she said in a low voice, without looking up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because,&rdquo; replied the young man steadily, &ldquo;you&rsquo;re rich
+now, Mary ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl looked up quickly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will men ever understand women?&rdquo; she cried, a new note in her
+voice. She stepped forward and, putting her two hands on the young man&rsquo;s
+shoulders, swung him round to face her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m as poor as ever I was,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;for Hartley
+Parrish&rsquo;s money is not for me ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mary!&rdquo; exclaimed the young man joyfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Robin Greve,&rdquo; cried the girl, &ldquo;do you mean to tell me
+you&rsquo;d stand there thinking I&rsquo;d accept money made like that
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But now she was in his arms. With a little fluttering sigh she yielded to his
+kiss.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, the man on the bridge!...&rdquo; she murmured with her woman&rsquo;s
+instinct for the conventions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come behind the boat, then!&rdquo; commanded Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And in the shadow of a weather-stained davit he kissed her again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So you&rsquo;ll wait for me, after all, Mary?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; retorted the girl firmly. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll read the Riot
+Act to Mother and you must marry me at once!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The wind blew cold from the North Sea. It rattled in the rigging, flapped the
+ensign standing out stiffly at the stern, and whirled the black smoke from the
+steamer&rsquo;s funnels out into a dark aerial wake as far as the eye could
+reach. With a gentle rhythmic motion the vessel rose and fell, while the stars
+began to pale and faint grey shadows appeared in the eastern sky. Still the man
+and the girl stood by the swaying lifeboat and talked the things that lovers
+say. Step by step they went over their thoughts for one another in each
+successive phase of the dark tragedy through which they had passed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And that van der Spyck letter,&rdquo; asked Robin; &ldquo;how did you
+get hold of it? I&rsquo;ve been wanting to ask you that ever since this
+afternoon ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I found it in the library,&rdquo; replied the girl, &ldquo;on the desk.
+It had got tucked away between two letter-trays&mdash;one fits into the other,
+you know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wondered how Jeekes had come to miss it,&rdquo; said Robin. &ldquo;But
+when was this?&rdquo; he added.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;On Sunday afternoon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what were you doing in the library?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl became a little embarrassed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I knew Mr. Manderton was suspicious of you. I heard him telephoning
+instructions to London to have you watched. So I thought I&rsquo;d go to the
+library to see if I could find anything which would show what they had against
+you exactly. And I found this letter. Then I noticed some one hiding behind the
+curtains, and, as I had the letter in my hand, I hid it in my dress. When I
+discovered that Bruce Wright was after it too, I pretended I had found nothing
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, darling, why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wanted to make sure for myself why you had sent Bruce Wright, for I
+guessed he had come from you, to look for this letter. So I thought I&rsquo;d
+go to Rotterdam to investigate ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin laughed affectionately.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Surely it would have been simpler to have given the letter to the police
+...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary gave him a look of indignant surprise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But it might have incriminated you!&rdquo; she exclaimed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At that Robin kissed her again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will men <i>ever</i> understand women?&rdquo; he asked, looking into her
+tranquil grey eyes.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap27"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.<br />
+AN INTERRUPTION FROM BEYOND</h2>
+
+<p>
+Sudden frost had laid an icy finger on the gardens of Harkings. The smooth
+green lawns were all dappled with white and wore a pinched and chilly look save
+under the big and solemn firs where the ground, warmed by its canopy of
+branches and coverlet of cones, had thawed in dark patches. The gravel walks
+were firm and dry; and in the rosery the bare skeleton of the pergolas stood
+out in clear-cut silhouette against a white and woolly sky.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Overnight the frost had come. It had taken even the birds by surprise. They
+hopped forlornly about the paths as though wondering where they would get their
+breakfast. Robin Greve, idly watching them from the library window, found
+himself contrasting the cheerful winter landscape with the depressing
+conditions of the previous day. In wind and rain the master of Harkings had
+been laid to rest in the quiet little churchyard of Stevenish. The ceremony had
+been arranged in haste, as soon as the coroner&rsquo;s jury had viewed the
+body. Robin Greve, that morning arrived from Rotterdam, Bude, and Mr. Bardy the
+solicitor, had been the only mourners. As Robin looked out upon the wintry
+scene, his mind reverted to the hurried funeral with its depressing
+accompaniment of gleaming umbrellas, mud from the freshly turned clay, and
+dripping trees.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Beneath the window of the library, its shattered pane now replaced, a cluster
+of starlings whistled gaily, darting bright-eyed glances, full of anticipation,
+at the closed window.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>He</i> used to give them crumbs every morning after breakfast,&rdquo;
+said Mary. &ldquo;See, Robin, how they are looking up! It seems a shame to
+disappoint them....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As though relieved to be quit of his dark thoughts, Robin, with a glad smile,
+turned to the girl. Dipping his hand into his pocket, he produced a hunk of
+bread and put it in her hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You think of everything!&rdquo; she said, smiling back at him prettily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He pushed up the window and she crumbled the bread for the birds. He rested one
+hand on her shoulder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He thought of everything, too,&rdquo; was his comment, &ldquo;even down
+to the birds. It&rsquo;s extraordinary! No detail was too small for
+him!...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He <i>was</i> remarkable, Robin,&rdquo; answered the girl soberly;
+&ldquo;there was something magnetic about his personality that made people like
+him. Even now that he is dead, even in spite of what we know, I can feel his
+attraction still. And the whole house is impregnated with his personality.
+Particularly this room. Don&rsquo;t you feel it? I don&rsquo;t mind being here
+with you, Robin, but I shouldn&rsquo;t like to be here alone. I was dreadfully
+frightened on Sunday evening when I came here. And when I saw the curtains move
+... oh! I thought my heart would stop beating! Dear, I&rsquo;m glad we are
+giving this place up. I don&rsquo;t feel that I could ever be happy here ...
+even with you!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Poor devil!&rdquo; said Robin. And then again he said: &ldquo;Poor
+devil!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was terrible ... to die like that!&rdquo; replied Mary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was terrible for him to lose <i>you</i>!&rdquo; answered the young
+man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She gave his hand a little, tender squeeze, but relinquished it quickly as the
+door opened.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton was there, broad-shouldered and burly. Behind came Dr. Romain
+with a purple nose and eyes watering with the cold, Horace Trevert in plain
+clothes, Mr. Bardy, the solicitor, plump, middle-aged, and prim, with a broad,
+smooth-shaven face and an eyeglass on a black silk riband. In the background
+loomed the large form of Inspector Humphries, ruddy of cheek as of hair. Lady
+Margaret did not appear.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton slapped his bowler hat briskly on a side table and with a little
+bow to Mary walked to the desk.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Mr. Manderton with a long, shrewd look that
+comprehended the company, individually and collectively, and the entire room,
+&ldquo;if Inspector Humphries will kindly close the door, we will reconstruct
+the crime in the light of the evidence we have collected.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He turned round to the desk and pulled back the chair ... Hartley
+Parrish&rsquo;s empty chair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is just on five o&rsquo;clock on Saturday evening, November
+27,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;and growing dark outside. Mr. Parrish is sitting
+here&rdquo;&mdash;he tapped the chair&mdash;&ldquo;with all the lights in the
+room turned off except this one on the desk.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Here he put a large hand on the reading-lamp.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The assumption that Mr. Parrish spent the afternoon, as he had spent the
+morning, over papers in connection with the business of Hornaway&rsquo;s in
+which he was interested is not correct. Mr. Archer, one of Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s
+secretaries who brought down a number of papers and letters for Mr. Parrish to
+sign in the morning, states that as far as Hornaway&rsquo;s or any other office
+business was concerned, Mr. Parrish was through with it by lunch. This is
+corroborated by the fact that no business papers of this description, with the
+exception of one, which I am coming to directly, were found on the desk here
+after Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s death. Nor were there any traces of burnt paper in or
+about the fire. These two facts were established by my colleague, Inspector
+Humphries.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At this everybody turned and looked at the Inspector, who blushed until the
+tint of his hair positively paled by comparison with that of his face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What Mr. Archer <i>did</i> leave with Mr. Parrish, however,&rdquo; Mr.
+Manderton resumed, looking round the group and emphasising the
+&ldquo;did,&rdquo; &ldquo;was his will and this letter ...&rdquo;&mdash;he held
+up a typewritten sheet of slatey-blue paper&mdash;&ldquo;which, a
+straightforward business communication in appearance, was in reality a threat
+against his life. It was with these two documents that Mr. Parrish spent the
+last few hours before he was found dead in this room. A few odd papers found
+lying on the desk have nothing to do with the case and may therefore be
+dismissed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton paused and then, with the deliberation which distinguished his
+every movement, walked round the desk to the window.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The fire in this room,&rdquo; he said, turning and facing his audience,
+&ldquo;was smoking. The butler will testify to this and state that Mr. Parrish
+complained about it to him with the result that the sweep was ordered for
+Monday morning. Owing to the smoke in the room Mr. Parrish opened the window.
+His finger-prints were on the inside of the window-frame and a small fragment
+of white paint was still adhering to one of his finger-nails.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The window, then, was open as it is now. Mr. Parrish sat at his desk,
+read through his will, and wrote a letter to Miss Trevert informing her that,
+under the will, she was left sole legatee. This letter, with the will, was
+found on the desk after Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s death. Presumably in view of the
+threat against his life contained in this letter,&rdquo;&mdash;the detective
+held up the slatey-blue paper,&mdash;&ldquo;Mr. Parrish had either in his
+pocket or, as I am more inclined to think, lying on the desk in front of him,
+his Browning automatic pistol. This pistol was fitted with a Maxim silencer, an
+invention for suppressing the report of a firearm, which was sent to Mr.
+Parrish by a friend in America some years ago and which he kept permanently
+attached to the weapon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton came to an impressive full stop and glanced round his circle of
+listeners. He gave his explanations easily and fluently, but in a plain,
+matter-of-fact tone such as a police constable employs in the witness-box. He
+had marshalled his facts well, and his measured advance towards his
+<i>dénouement</i> was not without its effect on his audience. Dr. Romain,
+nursing his knee on a leather settee, Horace Trevert, a tall slim figure
+eagerly watching the detective from his perch on the arm of the Chesterfield,
+and Robin and Mary, standing, very close together, behind the empty chair at
+the desk&mdash;each and every one was listening with rapt attention. Inspector
+Humphries, propping his big bulk uneasily against the wall near the door, was
+the only one who appeared to be oblivious of the strain.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The detective walked round the desk and seated himself in the chair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Parrish is seated at the desk here,&rdquo; he resumed, &ldquo;when
+his attention is directed to the window.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And here Mr. Manderton raised his head and looked out towards the frost-strewn
+gardens.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maybe he hears a step, more probably he sees a face staring at him out
+of the dark. Very much to his surprise he recognizes Jeekes, his principal
+private secretary&mdash;I say to his surprise because he must have believed
+Jeekes, who had the week-end free, to be in London. And at that, perhaps
+because he thinks he has made a mistake&mdash;in any case to make sure&mdash;he
+gets up....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The detective suited the action to the word. He pushed back the chair and rose
+to his feet. They saw he held a large automatic pistol in his hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He has had this threatening letter, remember, so he takes his pistol
+with him. And he reaches the window ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The detective was at the window now, his back to the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He speaks to Jeekes, angrily, maybe&mdash;the butler heard the sound of
+loud voices&mdash;they have words. And then ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There came a knock at the library door. It was not a loud knock. It was in
+reality scarcely more than a gentle tap. But it fell upon a silence of
+Manderton&rsquo;s own creating, a rapt silence following a pause which preceded
+the climax of his narrative. So the discreet knocking resounded loud and clear
+through the library.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who is that? What is it?&rdquo; rapped out Dr. Romain irritably.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t let any one disturb us, Inspector!&rdquo; called out Horace
+Trevert to Inspector Humphries, who had opened the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude&rsquo;s face appeared in the doorway. He had a short altercation with the
+Inspector, who resolutely interposed his massive form between the butler and
+the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is it, Bude?&rdquo; asked Robin, going to the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a letter for Miss Trevert, sir!&rdquo; said Bude.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, leave it in the hall. Miss Trevert can&rsquo;t be disturbed at
+present ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But ... but, sir,&rdquo; the butler protested. Then Robin noticed that
+he was trembling with excitement and that his features were all distraught.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter with you, Bude?&rdquo; Robin demanded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Humphries had stood on one side and Robin now faced the butler.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a letter from ... that Jeekes!&rdquo; faltered Bude, holding
+out a salver. &ldquo;I know his writing, sir!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For Miss Trevert?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin gathered up the plain white envelope. It bore a Dutch stamp. The postmark
+was Rotterdam. He gave the letter to Mary. It was bulky and heavy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For you,&rdquo; he said, and stood beside her while she broke the seal.
+By this they had all gathered round her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The envelope fluttered to the floor. Mary was unfolding a wad of sheets of
+writing-paper folded once across. She glanced at the topmost sheet, then handed
+the bundle to Robin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a confession!&rdquo; she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+From beyond the grave the little secretary had spoken and spoiled Mr.
+Manderton&rsquo;s <i>dénouement</i>.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap28"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.<br />
+THE DEATH OF HARTLEY PARRISH</h2>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For Miss Trevert.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Thus, in Jeekes&rsquo;s round and flowing commercial hand, the document began:
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+Last Statement of Albert Edward Jeekes, made at Rotterdam, this twenty-first
+Day of January, in the Year of Our Lord One Thousand Nine Hundred and...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Bardy, the solicitor, to whom, by common consent, the reading of the
+confession had been entrusted, raised his eyebrows, thereby letting his
+eyeglass fall, and looked round at the company.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pon my soul,&rdquo; he remarked, &ldquo;for a man about to take his own
+life, our friend seems to have been the coolest customer imaginable. Look at
+it! Written in a firm hand and almost without an erasure. Very remarkable! Very
+remarkable, indeed!...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hm!&rdquo; grunted Mr. Manderton, &ldquo;not so uncommon as you suppose,
+Mr. Bardy, sir. Hendriks, the Palmers Green poisoner, typed out his confession
+on cream inlaid paper before dosing himself. But let&rsquo;s hear what the
+gentleman has to tell us....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This was the last digression. Thenceforth Mr. Bardy read out the confession to
+the end without interruption.
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<i>For Miss Trevert</i>:
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<i>Madam</i>,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I slew, but I am not a murderer: I Killed, but without deliberation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Victor Marbran has gone and left me to meet a shameful death. But I cannot face
+the scaffold. As men go, I do not believe I am a coward and I am not afraid to
+die. But the inexorable deliberation of justice appals me. When I have written
+what I have to write, I shall be hangman to myself. My pistol they have taken
+away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Victor Marbran has abandoned me. He had prepared everything for his flight.
+Even if the law can indict him as the virtual murderer of Hartley Parrish, the
+law will never lay hands on him. Victor Marbran neglects no detail. He will
+never be caught. But from the Great Unknown for which I shall presently set
+out, I shall stretch forth my hand and see that, here or there, he does not
+escape the punishment he merits for bringing down shame and disgrace upon me.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Just now he bade me stay in the office and finish burning the papers in his
+desk. He promised he would take me with him to a secure hiding-place which he
+had made ready for some such emergency as this. I believed him and,
+unsuspecting, stayed. And now he has slipped away. He is gone and the house is
+empty. I cannot follow him even did I know where he has gone. I have only a
+very little money left and I am tired. Very tired. I feel I cannot support the
+hue-and-cry they will raise. Everything is still about me. The quiet of the
+country is very soothing. To die like this, with darkness falling and no sound
+but the rustling rain, is the better way ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hartley Parrish was the man behind the great syndicate which systematically ran
+the British blockade of Germany in the war. He financed Marbran and the
+international riff-raff of profiteers with whom Marbran worked. Parrish
+supplied the funds, often the goods as well,&mdash;at any rate, until they
+tightened up the blockade,&mdash;while Marbran and the rest of the bunch in
+neutral countries did the trading with the enemy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Parrish was a deep one. I say nothing against him. He was a kind employer to me
+and I played him false, for which I have been bitterly punished. To have
+swindled Victor Marbran&mdash;I count it as nothing against him, for that
+heartless, cruel man is deserving of no pity ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Parrish was the heart and soul, brains and muscle of the syndicate. He lurked
+far in the background. Any and every trail which might possibly lead back to
+him was carefully effaced. He was secure as long as Marbran and one or two
+other big men in the business kept faith with him. Now and then, when the
+British Intelligence were too hot on the trail, Parrish and Marbran would give
+away one of the small fry belonging to the organization and thus stave off
+suspicion. They could do this in complete safety, for so perfect was their
+organization that the small fry only knew the small fry in the shallows and
+never the big fish in the deep ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Hartley Parrish was in Marbran&rsquo;s hands. They stood or fell together.
+Parrish knew this. But he was a born gambler and insanely self-confident. He
+took a chance with Marbran. It cost him his life.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All payments were made to Parrish. He was treasurer and banker of the
+syndicate. Money came in by all sorts of devious routes, sometimes from as far
+afield as South or Central America. Parrish distributed the profits. Everything
+was in his hands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+By the time the armistice came, the game had got too hot. All the big fish
+except Marbran had cleared out with their pile. But Marbran, like Parrish, was
+a gambler. He stuck it out and stayed on.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Parrish played fair until the war was over. The armistice, of course, put an
+end to the business. But some months after the armistice a sum of £150,000 was
+paid to Parrish through a Spanish bank in settlement, Marbran told me, for
+petrol indirectly delivered to the German Admiralty. Parrish pouched the lot.
+Not a penny did Marbran get.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Parrish and Marbran were old friends. They were young men together on the Rand
+gold-fields in the early days. In fact, I believe they went out to South Africa
+together as penniless London lads. But Marbran hated Parrish, though Parrish
+had, I believe, been his benefactor in many ways. Marbran was fiercely envious
+of the other because he realized that, starting with an equal chance, Parrish
+had left him far behind. Everything that Parrish touched prospered, while
+Marbran was in perpetual financial straits. He was Parrish&rsquo;s equal in
+courage, but not in judgment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Parrish calculated that Marbran would not dare to denounce him. He had always
+taken the lead in their schemes and he affected to disregard Marbran
+altogether. So he left the latter&rsquo;s letters unanswered and laughed at his
+threats. He was quite sure that Marbran would never risk losing his pile by
+giving Parrish away, for they were, of course, both British subjects and both
+in it together ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Marbran always distrusted Parrish, and long before the breach came, he picked
+on me to act the spy on my employer. I, too, was born a gambler, but, like
+Marbran, I lacked the lucky touch which made Parrish a millionaire. Speculation
+proved my ruin. I have often thanked my God on my bended knees&mdash;as I shall
+do again to-night before I pass over&mdash;that my insane folly has ruined no
+one but myself ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Already, when Hartley Parrish engaged me, I was up to the neck in speculation.
+Up to that time, however, I had managed to keep my head above water, but the
+large salary on which Parrish started me dazzled me. I tried a flutter in oil
+on a much larger scale than anything I had hitherto attempted, with the result
+that one day I found myself with a debt of nine hundred pounds to meet and no
+assets to meet it with. And I was two hundred pounds in debt to Hartley
+Parrish&rsquo;s petty cash account, which I kept.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was Victor Marbran who came to my rescue. Parrish had sent me over to
+Rotterdam to fetch some papers from Marbran. At this time I knew nothing of
+Parrish&rsquo;s blockade-running business. Parrish never took me into his
+confidence about it and the whole of the correspondence went direct to him
+through a number of secret channels with which I only gradually became
+acquainted behind his back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I had met Marbran several times in London and also at Rotterdam. It had struck
+me that he had formed a liking for me. On this particular visit to Rotterdam
+Marbran took me out to dinner and encouraged me to speak about myself. He was
+very sympathetic, and this, coupled with the wine I had taken, led me to open
+my heart to him. Without giving myself away, I let him understand that I was in
+considerable financial difficulties, which I set down to the high cost of
+living as the result of the war.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Without a word of warning Marbran pulled out his cheque-book.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How much do you want,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;to put you
+straight?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Nine hundred pounds, I told him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He wrote the cheque at once there at the table. He would advance me the money,
+he said, and put me down for shares in a business in which he was interested.
+It was a safe thing and profits were very high. I could repay him at my
+leisure.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In this way I became a shareholder in Parrish&rsquo;s blockade-running
+syndicate. The return I was to make was to spy on my employer and to report to
+Marbran the letters which Parrish received and the names of the people whom he
+interviewed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of course, Marbran did not propose this plan at once. When I took leave of him
+that night, I remember, I all but broke down at the thought of his unsolicited
+generosity. I have had a hard life, Miss Trevert, and his seeming kindness
+broke me all up. But I might have known.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I cashed Marbran&rsquo;s cheque and put back the two hundred pounds I had taken
+from the petty cash account. But I went on speculating. You see, I did not
+believe Marbran&rsquo;s story about the shares he said he would put me down
+for. I thought it was a charitable tale to spare my feelings. So I plunged once
+more in the confident hope of recovering enough to repay my debt to Marbran.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A month later Marbran sent me a cheque for one hundred pounds. He said it was
+the balance of fifteen hundred pounds due to me as profits on my shares less
+the nine hundred pounds I owed him and five hundred pounds for my shares. But
+my speculations had by this time gone wrong again, and I was heartily glad
+presently to receive a further cheque for two hundred pounds from Marbran. From
+that time on I got from Marbran sums varying between one hundred and fifty
+pounds and five hundred pounds a month.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Marbran made me his shameful offer, I rejected it with indignation. But I
+was fast in the trap. Marbran explained to me in great detail and with the
+utmost candour the working of the Parrish syndicate. He let me know very
+plainly that I was as deeply implicated as Parrish and he. I was a shareholder;
+I had received and was receiving my share of the profits. In my distress and
+shame I threatened to expose the pair of them. Had I known the source of his
+money, I told him, I should never have accepted it. At that Marbran laughed
+contemptuously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You tell that yarn to the police,&rdquo; he sneered, &ldquo;and hear
+what they say!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then I realized that I was in the net.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I make no excuses for myself. I shall make none to the Great Judge before whom
+in a little while I shall appear. I had not the moral force to resist Marbran.
+I did his bidding: I continued to take his money and I held my peace.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then came the breach between Parrish and Marbran. I was the cause of it.
+But for me, his trusty spy, Marbran would have known nothing of this payment of
+£150,000 which Parrish received from Spain, and this tragedy would not have
+happened. God forgive me ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Marbran appealed to Parrish in vain. What he wrote I never knew, for, shortly
+after, Parrish quietly and without any explanation took the confidential work
+out of my hands. I believe he suspected then who Marbran&rsquo;s spy was. But
+he said nothing to me of his suspicions at that time ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finally, Marbran came to London. It was on Tuesday of last week. I had been up
+in Sheffield on business, and on my return I found Marbran waiting for me at my
+rooms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was like a man possessed. Never before have I witnessed such an outburst of
+ungovernable rage. Parrish, it appears, had declined to see him. He swore that
+Parrish should not get the better of him if he had to kill him first. I can see
+Marbran now as he sat on my bed, his livid face distorted with fury.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll give him a last chance,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;and then, by
+God, let our smart Alec look out!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This sort of talk frightened me. I knew Marbran meant mischief. He was a bad
+man to cross. I was desperately afraid he would waylay Parrish and bring down
+disaster on the three of us. I did my utmost to put the idea of violence out of
+his mind. I begged him to content himself with trying to frighten Parrish into
+paying up before trying other means.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+My suggestion seemed to awaken some old memory in Marbran&rsquo;s mind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Gad, Jeekes,&rdquo; he said, after a moment&rsquo;s thought,
+&ldquo;you&rsquo;ve given me an idea. Parrish has a yellow streak. He&rsquo;s
+scared of a gun. I saw it once, years ago, in a roughhouse we got into at
+Krugersdorp on the Rand. Damn it, I know how to bring the yellow dog to heel,
+and I&rsquo;ll tell you how we&rsquo;ll do it ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He then unfolded his plan. He would send Parrish a last demand for a
+settlement, threatening him with death if he did not pay up. The warning would
+reach Parrish on the following Saturday. Marbran would contrive that he should
+receive it by the first post. As soon as possible thereafter I was to go to
+Parrish boldly and demand his answer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you&rsquo;ll take a gun,&rdquo; Marbran said, peering at me with his
+cunning little eyes, &ldquo;and you&rsquo;ll show it. And if at the sight of it
+you don&rsquo;t get the brass, then I don&rsquo;t know my old pal, Mister
+Hartley Parrish, Esquire!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The proposal appalled me. I knew nothing of Hartley Parrish&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;yellow streak.&rdquo; I knew him only as a hard and resolute man, swift
+in decision and ruthless in action. Whatever happened, I argued, Parrish would
+discharge me and there was every prospect of his handing me over to the police
+as well.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Marbran was deaf to my reasoning. I had nothing to fear, he protested. Parrish
+would collapse at the first sign of force. And as for my losing my job, Marbran
+would find me another and a better one in his office at Rotterdam.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Still I held out. The chance of losing my position, even of being sent to gaol,
+daunted me less, I think, than the admission to Parrish of the blackly
+ungrateful role I had played towards him. In the end I told Marbran to do his
+dirty work himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But I spoke without conviction. I realized that Marbran held me in a cleft
+stick and that he realized it, too. He wasted no further time in argument. I
+knew what I had to do, he said, and I would do it. Otherwise ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He left me in an agony of mental stress. At that time, I swear to Heaven, Miss
+Trevert, I was determined to let Marbran do his worst rather than lend myself
+to this odious blackmailing trick, my own suggestion, as I bitterly remembered.
+But for the rest of the week his parting threat rang in my ears. Unless he
+heard by the following Sunday that I had confronted Parrish and called his
+bluff, as he put it, the British police should have word, not only of
+Parrish&rsquo;s activities in trading with the enemy, but of mine as well.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was no idle threat. Parrish and Marbran had put men away before. I could
+give you the names ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is quite dark now. It must be an hour since Greve took you away. Soon he
+will be back with the police to arrest me and I must have finished by then,
+finished with the story, finished with life ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Last week I worked at Parrish&rsquo;s city office. I told you how he kept me
+off his confidential work. On Saturday morning I went round to the house in St.
+James&rsquo;s Square to see whether Marbran had really sent his warning.
+Archer, my colleague, who was acting as confidential secretary in my stead, was
+there. Parrish was at Harkings, he told me. Archer was going down by car that
+morning with his mail. It included two &ldquo;blue letters&rdquo; which Archer
+would, according to orders, hand to Parrish unopened.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+These &ldquo;blue letters,&rdquo; as we secretaries used to call them, written
+on a striking bluish paper, were the means by which all communications passed
+between Parrish and Marbran on the syndicate&rsquo;s business. They were
+drafted in conventional code and came to Parrish from all parts of Europe and
+in all kinds of ways. No one saw them except himself. By his strict
+injunctions, they were to be opened only by himself in person.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Archer told me that two &ldquo;blue letters&rdquo; had come, I knew that
+Marbran had kept his word. Though my mind was not made up, instinct told me I
+was going to play my part ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I could not face the shame of exposure. I was brought up in a decent English
+home. To stand in the dock charged with prolonging the sufferings of our
+soldiers and sailors in order to make money was a prospect I could not even
+contemplate.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I thought it all out that Saturday morning as I stood at the dressing-table in
+my bedroom by the open drawer in which my automatic pistol lay. It was one
+given me by Parrish some years before at a time when he thought we might be
+going on a trip to Rumania ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I slipped the pistol into my pocket. I felt like a man in a dream. I believe I
+went down to Harkings by train, but I have no clear recollection of the
+journey. I seemed to come to my senses only when I found myself standing on the
+high bank of the rosery at Harkings, looking down upon the library window.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Outside in the gardens it was nearly dark, but from the window fell a stream of
+subdued light. The curtains had not been drawn and the window was open at the
+bottom. Parrish sat at the desk. Only the desk-lamp was lit, so that his face
+was in shadow, but his two hands, stretched out on the blotter in front of him,
+lay in a pool of light, and I caught the gleam of his gold signet ring.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was not writing or working. He seemed to be thinking. I watched him in a
+fascinated sort of way. I had never seen him sit thus idly at his desk before
+...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+My brain worked quite lucidly now. As I looked at him, I suddenly realised that
+I had a golden opportunity for speaking to him unobserved. The gardens were
+absolutely deserted: the library wing was very still. If he were a man to be
+frightened into submission, my sudden appearance, following upon the receipt of
+the threatening letter, would be likely to help in achieving this result.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I walked softly down the steps to the window. I stood close up to the sill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Parrish,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;Victor Marbran has sent me for his
+answer.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In a flash he was on his feet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who&rsquo;s there?&rdquo; he cried out in alarm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His voice shook, and I could see his hand tremble in the lamplight as he
+clutched at the desk. Then I knew that he was badly frightened, and the
+discovery gave me courage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you going to settle with Marbran or are you not?&rdquo; I said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At that he peered forward. All of a sudden his manner changed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What in hell does this mean, Jeekes?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His voice quavered no longer. It was hard and menacing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But I had burnt my boats behind me now.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It means,&rdquo; I answered boldly, &ldquo;that you&rsquo;ve got to pay
+up. And you&rsquo;ve got to pay up now!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In a couple of quick strides he was round the desk and coming at me as I stood
+with my chest pressing against the window-sill. His hands were thrust in his
+jacket pockets. His face was red with anger.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You dawggorn dirty little rathole spy,&rdquo;&mdash;he spat the words at
+me in a low, threatening voice,&mdash;&ldquo;I guessed that lowdown skunk
+Marbran had been getting at some of my people!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His voice rose in a sudden gust of passion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You rotten little worm! You&rsquo;d try and bounce me, would you?
+You&rsquo;ve come to the wrong shop for that, Mr. Spying Jeekes ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His manner was incredibly insulting. So was the utter contempt with which he
+looked at me. This man, who had trembled with fear at the unknown, recovered
+his self-control on finding that the menace came from the menial, the hireling,
+he despised. I felt the blood rush in a hot flood to my head. I lost all
+self-control. I screamed aloud at him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s no bounce about it this time! If you don&rsquo;t pay up,
+you know what to expect!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I had been holding my pistol out of his sight below the window-ledge, but on
+this I swung it up and levelled it at him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He sprang back a pace, the colour fading on the instant from his face, his
+mouth twisted awry in a horrid paroxysm of fear. Even in that subdued light I
+could see that his cheeks were as white as paper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But then in a flash his right hand went up. I saw the pistol he held, but
+before I could make a movement there was a loud, raucous hiss of air and a
+bullet whistled past my ear into the darkness of the gardens. How he missed me
+at that range I don&rsquo;t know, but, seeing me standing there, he came at me
+again with the pistol in his hand ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then you, Miss Trevert, cried out, &ldquo;Hartley,&rdquo; and rattled the
+handle of the door. Your cry merged in a deafening report. Parrish, who was
+quite close to me, and advancing, stopped short with a little startled
+exclamation, his eyes reproachful, full of surprise. He stood there and swayed,
+looking at me all the time, then crashed backwards on the floor. And I found
+myself staring at the smoking pistol in my hand ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was your scream that brought me to my senses. My mind cleared instantly. I
+knew I must act quickly. The house would be alarmed directly, and before that
+happened, I must be clear of the grounds. Yet I knew that before I went I must
+do something to make myself safe ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I stood at the window staring down at the dead man. His eyes were terrible.
+Like a suicide he looked, I thought. And then it flashed across my mind that
+only one shot had been heard and that our pistols were identical and fired the
+same ammunition. The silencer! The silencer could save me. With that removed,
+the suicide theory might pass muster: at any rate, it would delay other
+investigations and give me a start ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In a matter of a second or two I believe I thought of everything. I did not
+overlook the danger of leaving finger-prints or foot-marks about. I had not
+taken off my gloves, and my boots were perfectly dry. In climbing into the room
+I was most careful to see that I did not mark the window-sill or scratch the
+paintwork ...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I stood beside the body and I caught the dead man&rsquo;s hand. It was fat and
+soft and still warm. The touch of it made me reel with horror. I turned my face
+away from his so as not to see his eyes again....
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I got the silencer. Parrish had shown it to me and I knew how to detach it....
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I went back through the window as carefully as I had come in. And I pushed the
+window down. Parrish would have done that, I thought, if he had meant to commit
+suicide. And then my nerve went. The window frightened me. The blank glass with
+the silent room beyond;&mdash;it reminded me of Parrish&rsquo;s sightless gaze.
+I turned and ran....
+</p>
+
+<p>
+I did not mean to kill. As there is a God in ...
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+On that unfinished sentence the confession ended.
+</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>
+Mr. Bardy put the bundle of manuscript down on the desk and, dropping his
+eyeglass from his eye, caught it deftly and began to polish it vigorously with
+his pocket handkerchief. As no one spoke, he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s all. It ends there!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked round the circle of earnest faces. Then Horace Trevert crossed to the
+desk.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Robin,&rdquo; he said, and held out his hand, &ldquo;I want to
+apologize. I ... we ... behaved very badly ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin grasped the boy&rsquo;s hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a word about that, Horace, old boy,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Besides,
+Mary is putting all that right, you know!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She told me,&rdquo; replied Horace; &ldquo;and, Robin, I&rsquo;m
+tremendously glad!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Greve!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin turned to find Mr. Manderton, large and impressive, at his elbow.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Might I have a word with you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Robin followed the detective across the room to the window.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Manderton seemed a trifle embarrassed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Er&mdash;- Mr. Greve,&rdquo; he said, clearing his throat rather
+nervously, &ldquo;I should like to&mdash;er,&mdash;offer you my congratulations
+on the remarkably accurate view you took of this case. I should have been able
+to prove to you, I believe, but for this curious interruption, that your view
+and mine practically coincided. It has been a pleasure to work with you,
+sir!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He cast a hasty glance over his shoulder at the other occupants of the room,
+who were gathered round the desk.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not a society man, Mr. Greve,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;and I
+have a lot of work on my hands regarding the case. So I think I&rsquo;ll run
+off now ...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He broke off, gave Robin a large hand, and, looking neither to right nor to
+left, made a hurried exit from the room, taking Inspector Humphries with him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now that we are just among ourselves&rdquo;&mdash;the solicitor was
+speaking&mdash;&ldquo;I think I may seize the opportunity of saying a word
+about Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s will. Miss Trevert, as you know, is made principal
+legatee, but I understand from her that she does not propose to accept the
+inheritance. I will not comment on this decision of hers, which does her moral
+sense, at any rate, infinite credit, but I should observe that Mr. Parrish has
+left directions for the payment of an allowance&mdash;I may say, a most
+handsome allowance&mdash;to Lady Margaret Trevert during her ladyship&rsquo;s
+lifetime. This is a provision over which Miss Trevert&rsquo;s decision, of
+course, can have no influence. I would only remark that, according to Mr.
+Parrish&rsquo;s instructions, this allowance will be paid from the dividends on
+a percentage of his holdings in Hornaway&rsquo;s under the new scheme. I have
+not yet had an opportunity of looking further into Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s affairs
+in the light of the information which Mr. Greve obtained in Rotterdam, but I
+have reason to believe that he kept his interest in Hornaway&rsquo;s and
+his&mdash;ahem!&mdash;other activities entirely separate. If this can be
+definitely established to my own satisfaction and to yours, my dear Miss
+Trevert, I see no reason why you should not modify your decision at least in
+respect of Mr. Parrish&rsquo;s interest in Hornaway&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary Trevert looked at Robin and then at the solicitor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No!&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;not a penny as far as I am concerned. With
+Mother the case is different. I told her last night of my decision in the
+matter. She disapproves of it. That is why she is not here to-day. But my mind
+is made up.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Bardy adjusted his eyeglass in his eye and gazed at the girl. His face wore
+an expression of pain mingled with compassion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will see Lady Margaret after lunch,&rdquo; he said rather stiffly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then the door opened and Bude appeared.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Luncheon is served, Miss!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He stood there, a portly, dignified figure in sober black, solemn of visage,
+sonorous of voice, a living example of the triumph of established tradition
+over the most savage buffetings of Fate. His enunciation was, if anything, more
+mellow, his demeanour more pontifical than of yore.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bude was once more in the service of a County Family.
+</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+THE END
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Yellow Streak, by Williams, Valentine
+
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+Title: The Yellow Streak
+
+Author: Williams, Valentine
+
+Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9974]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on November 5, 2003]
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+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO Latin-1
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW STREAK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Dave Morgan and the PG Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE YELLOW STREAK
+
+BY VALENTINE WILLIAMS
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+I. THE MASTER OF HARKINGS
+
+II. AT TWILIGHT
+
+III. A DISCOVERY
+
+IV. BETWEEN THE DESK AND THE WINDOW
+
+V. IN WHICH BUDE LOOKS AT ROBIN GREVE
+
+VI. THE LETTER
+
+VII. VOICES IN THE LIBRARY
+
+VIII. ROBIN GOES TO MARY
+
+IX. MR. MANDERTON
+
+X. A SMOKING CHIMNEY
+
+XI. "... SPEED THE PARTING GUEST!"
+
+XII. MR. MANDERTON is NONPLUSSED
+
+XIII. JEEKES
+
+XIV. A SHEET OF BLUE PAPER
+
+XV. SHADOWS
+
+XVI. THE INTRUDER
+
+XVII. A FRESH CLUE
+
+XVIII. THE SILENT SHOT
+
+XIX. MR. MANDERTON LAYS HIS CARDS ON THE TABLE
+
+XX. THE CODE KING
+
+XXI. A WORD WITH MR. JEEKES
+
+XXII. THE MAN WITH THE YELLOW FACE
+
+XXIII. TWO'S COMPANY
+
+XXIV. THE METAMORPHOSIS OF MR. SCHULZ
+
+XXV. THE READING OF THE RIDDLE
+
+XXVI. THE FIGURE IN THE DOORWAY
+
+XXVII. AN INTERRUPTION FROM BEYOND
+
+XXVIII. THE DEATH OF HARTLEY PARRISH
+
+
+
+
+THE YELLOW STREAK
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+THE MASTER OF HARKINGS
+
+Of all the luxuries of which Hartley Parrish's sudden rise to wealth
+gave him possession, Bude, his butler, was the acquisition in which he
+took the greatest delight and pride. Bude was a large and comfortable-
+looking person, triple-chinned like an archdeacon, bald-headed except for
+a respectable and saving edging of dark down, clean-shaven, benign of
+countenance, with a bold nose which to the psychologist bespoke both
+ambition and inborn cleverness. He had a thin, tight mouth which in
+itself alone was a symbol of discreet reticence, the hall-mark of the
+trusted family retainer.
+
+
+Bude had spent his life in the service of the English aristocracy. The
+Earl of Tipperary, Major-General Lord Bannister, the Dowager Marchioness
+of Wiltshire, and Sir Herbert Marcobrunner, Bart., had in turn watched
+his gradual progress from pantry-boy to butler. Bude was a man whose
+maxim had been the French saying, "_Je prends mon bien ou je le
+trouve_."
+
+In his thirty years' service he had always sought to discover and draw
+from those sources of knowledge which were at his disposal. From
+MacTavish, who had supervised Lord Tipperary's world-famous gardens, he
+had learnt a great deal about flowers, so that the arrangement of the
+floral decorations was always one of the features at Hartley Parrish's
+_soigne_ dinner-parties. From Brun, the unsurpassed _chef_, whom Lord
+Bannister had picked up when serving with the Guards in Egypt, he had
+gathered sufficient knowledge of the higher branches of the cuisine to
+enable Hartley Parrish to leave the arrangement of the menu in his
+butler's hands.
+
+Bude would have been the first to admit that, socially speaking, his
+present situation was not the equal of the positions he had held. There
+was none of the staid dignity about his present employer which was
+inborn in men like Lord Tipperary or Lord Bannister, and which Sir
+Herbert Marcobrunner, with the easy assimilative faculty of his race,
+had very successfully acquired. Below middle height, thick-set and
+powerfully built, with a big head, narrow eyes, and a massive chin,
+Hartley Parrish, in his absorbed concentration on his business, had no
+time for the acquisition or practice of the Eton manner.
+
+It was characteristic of Parrish that, seeing Bude at a dinner-party at
+Marcobruaner's, he should have engaged him on the spot. It took Bude a
+week to get over his shock at the manner in which the offer was made.
+Parrish had approached him as he was supervising the departure of the
+guests. Waving aside the footman who offered to help him into his
+overcoat, Parrish had asked Bude point-blank what wages he was getting.
+Bude mentioned the generous remuneration he was receiving from Sir
+Herbert Marcobrunner, whereupon Parrish had remarked:
+
+"Come to me and I'll double it. I'll give you a week to think it over.
+Let my secretary know!"
+
+After a few discreet enquiries, Bude, faithful to his maxim, had
+accepted Parrish's offer. Marcobrunner was furiously angry, but, being
+anxious to interest Parrish in a deal, sagely kept his feelings to
+himself. And Bude had never regretted the change. He found Parrish an
+exacting, but withal a just and a generous master, and he was not long
+in realizing that, as long as he kept Harkings, Parrish's country place
+where he spent the greater part of his time, running smoothly according
+to Parrish's schedule, he could count on a life situation.
+
+The polish of manner, the sober dignity of dress, acquired from years of
+acute observation in the service of the nobility, were to be seen as, at
+the hour of five, in the twilight of this bleak autumn afternoon, Bude
+moved majestically into the lounge-hall of Harkings and leisurely
+pounded the gong for tea.
+
+The muffled notes of the gong swelled out brazenly through the silent
+house. They echoed down the softly carpeted corridors to the library
+where the master of the house sat at his desk. For days he had been
+immersed in the figures of the new issue which Hornaway's, the vast
+engineering business of his creation, was about to put on the market.
+They reverberated up the fine old oak staircase to the luxurious Louis
+XV bedroom, where Lady Margaret Trevert lay on her bed idly smiling
+through an amusing novel. They crashed through the thickly padded baize
+doors leading to the servants' hall, where, at sixpence a hundred,
+Parrish's man, Jay, was partnering Lady Margaret's maid against Mrs.
+Heever, the housekeeper, and Robert, the chauffeur, at a friendly game
+of bridge. And they even boomed distantly into the far-away
+billiard-room and broke into the talk which Robin Greve was having with
+Mary Trevert.
+
+"Damn!" exclaimed Greve savagely, as the distant gonging came to his
+ears.
+
+"It's the gong for tea," said Mary demurely.
+
+She was sitting on one of the big leather sofas lining the long room.
+Robin, as he gazed down at her from where he stood with his back against
+the edge of the billiard-table, thought what an attractive picture she
+made in the half-light.
+
+The lamps over the table were lit, but the rest of the room was almost
+dark. In that lighting the thickly waving dark hair brought out the fine
+whiteness of the girl's skin. There was love, and a great desire for
+love, in her large dark eyes, but the clear-cut features, the
+well-shaped chin, and the firm mouth, the lips a little full, spoke of
+ambition and the love of power.
+
+"I've been here three whole days," said Robin, "and I've not had two
+words with you alone, Mary. And hardly have I got you to myself for a
+quiet game of pills when that rotten gong goes ..."
+
+"I'm sorry you're disappointed at missing your game," the girl replied
+mischievously, "but I expect you will be able to get a game with Horace
+or one of the others after tea ..."
+
+Robin kicked the carpet savagely.
+
+"You know perfectly well I don't want to play billiards ..."
+
+He looked up and caught the girl's eye. For a fraction of a second he
+saw in it the expression which every man at least once in his life looks
+to see in the eyes of one particular woman. In the girl's dark-blue eyes
+fringed with long black lashes he saw the dumb appeal, the mute
+surrender, which, as surely as the white flag on the battlements in war,
+is the signal of capitulation in woman.
+
+But the expression was gone on the instant. It passed so swiftly that,
+for a second, Robin, seeing the gently mocking glance that succeeded it,
+wondered whether he had been mistaken.
+
+But he was a man of action--a glance at his long, well-moulded head, his
+quick, wide-open eye, and his square jaw would have told you that--and
+he spoke.
+
+"It's no use beating about the bush," he said. "Mary, I've got so fond
+of you that I'm just miserable when you're away from me ..."
+
+"Oh, Robin, please ..."
+
+Mary Trevert stood up and remained standing, her head turned a little
+away from him, a charming silhouette in her heather-blue shooting-suit.
+
+The young man took her listless hand.
+
+"My dear," he said, "you and I have been pals all our lives. It was
+only at the front that I began to realize just how much you meant to me.
+And now I know I can't do without you. I've never met any one who has
+been to me just what you are. And, Mary, I must have you as my wife ..."
+
+The girl remained motionless. She kept her face averted. The room seemed
+very still.
+
+"Oh, Robin, please ..." she murmured again.
+
+Resolutely the young man put an arm about her and drew her to him.
+Slowly, reluctantly, she let him have his way. But she would not look at
+him.
+
+"Oh, my dear," he whispered, kissing her hair, "don't you care a
+little?"
+
+She remained silent.
+
+"Won't you look at me, Mary?"
+
+There was a hint of huskiness in his voice. He raised her face to his.
+
+"I saw in your eyes just now that you cared for me," he whispered; "oh,
+my Mary, say that you do!"
+
+Then he bent down and kissed her. For a brief instant their lips met and
+he felt the caress of the girl's arm about his neck.
+
+"Oh, Robin!" she said.
+
+That was all.
+
+But then she drew away.
+
+Reluctantly the man let her go. The colour had faded from his cheeks
+when she looked at him again as he stood facing her in the twilight of
+the billiard-room.
+
+"Robin, dear," she said, "I'm going to hurt you."
+
+The young man seemed to have had a premonition of what was coming, for
+he betrayed no sign of surprise, but remained motionless, very erect,
+very pale.
+
+"Dear," said the girl with a little despairing shrug, "it's hopeless! We
+can't afford to marry!"
+
+"Not yet, I know," said Robin, "but I'm getting on well, Mary, and in
+another year or two ..."
+
+The girl looked down at the point of her little brogue shoe.
+
+"I don't know what you will think of me," she said, "but I can't
+accept ... I can't face ... I ..."
+
+"You can't face the idea of being the wife of a man who has his way to
+make. Is that it?"
+
+The voice was rather stern.
+
+The girl looked up impulsively.
+
+"I can't, Robin. I should never make you happy. Mother and I are as poor
+as church-mice. All the money in the family goes to keep Horace in the
+Army and pay for my clothes."
+
+She looked disdainfully at her pretty suit.
+
+"All this," she went on with a little hopeless gesture indicating her
+tailor-made, "is Mother's investment. No, no, it's true ... I can tell
+you as a friend, Robin, dear, we are living on our capital until I have
+caught a rich husband ..."
+
+"Oh, my dear," said Robin softly, "don't say things like that ..."
+
+The girl laughed a little defiantly.
+
+"But it's true," she answered. "The war has halved Mother's income and
+there's nothing between us and bankruptcy but a year or so ... unless I
+get married!"
+
+Her voice trembled a little and she turned away.
+
+"Mary," said the young man hoarsely, "for God's sake, don't do that!"
+
+He moved a step towards her, but she drew back.
+
+"It's all right," she said with the tears glistening wet on her face,
+and dabbed at her eyes with her tiny handkerchief, "but, oh, Robin boy,
+why couldn't you have held your tongue?"
+
+"I suppose I had no right to speak ..." the young man began.
+
+The girl sighed.
+
+"I oughtn't to say it ... now," she said slowly, and looked across at
+Robin with shining eyes, "but, Robin dear, I'm ... I'm glad you did!"
+
+She paused a moment as though turning something over in her mind.
+
+"I've ... I've got something to tell you, Robin," she began. "No, stay
+where you are! We must be sensible now."
+
+She paused and looked at him.
+
+"Robin," she said slowly, "I've promised to marry somebody else ..."
+
+There was a moment's silence.
+
+"Who is it?" Robin asked in a hard voice.
+
+The girl made no answer.
+
+"Who is it? Do I know him?"
+
+Still the girl was silent, but she gave a hardly perceptible nod.
+
+"Not ...? No, no, Mary, it isn't true? It can't be true?"
+
+The girl nodded, her eyes to the ground.
+
+"It's a secret still," she said. "No one knows but Mother. Hartley
+doesn't want it announced yet!"
+
+The sound of the Christian name suddenly seemed to infuriate Greve.
+
+"By God!" he cried, "it shan't be! You must be mad, Mary, to think of
+marrying a man like Hartley Parrish. A fellow who's years older than
+you, who thinks of nothing but money, who stood out of the war and made
+a fortune while men of his own age were doing the fighting for him! It's
+unthinkable ... it's ... it's damnable to think of a gross, ill-bred
+creature like Parrish ..."
+
+"Robin!" the girl cried, "you seem to forget that we're staying in his
+house. In spite of all you say he seems to be good enough for you to
+come and stay with ..."
+
+"I only came because you were to be here. You know that perfectly well.
+I admit one oughtn't to blackguard one's host, but, Mary, you must see
+that this marriage is absolutely out of the question!"
+
+The girl began to bridle up,
+
+"Why?" she asked loftily.
+
+"Because ... because Parrish is not the sort of man who will make you
+happy ..."
+
+"And why not, may I ask? He's very kind and very generous, and I believe
+he likes me ..."
+
+Robin Greve made a gesture of despair.
+
+"My dear girl," he said, trying to control himself to speak quietly,
+"what do you know about this man? Nothing. But there are beastly stories
+circulating about his life ..."
+
+Mary Trevert laughed cynically.
+
+"My dear old Robin," she said, "they tell stories about every bachelor.
+And I hardly think you are an unbiassed judge ..."
+
+Robin Greve was pacing up and down the floor.
+
+"You're crazy, Mary," he said, stopping in front of her, "to dream you
+can ever be happy with a man like Hartley Parrish. The man's a ruthless
+egoist. He thinks of nothing but money and he's out to buy you just
+exactly as you ..."
+
+"As I am ready to sell myself!" the girl echoed. "And I _am_ ready,
+Robin. It's all very well for you to stand there and preach ideals at
+me, but I'm sick and disgusted at the life we've been leading for the
+past three years, hovering on the verge of ruin all the time, dunned by
+tradesmen and having to borrow even from servants ... yes, from old
+servants of the family ... to pay Mother's bridge debts. Mother's a good
+sort. Father spent all her money for her and she was brought up in
+exactly the same helpless way as she brought up me. I can do absolutely
+nothing except the sort of elementary nursing which we all learnt in the
+war, and if I don't marry well Mother will have to keep a boarding-house
+or do something ghastly like that. I'm not going to pretend that I'm
+thinking only of her, because I'm not. I can't face a long engagement
+with no prospects except castles in Spain. I don't mean to be callous,
+Robin, but I expect I am naturally hard. Hartley Parrish is a good sort.
+He's very fond of me, and he will see that Mother lives comfortably for
+the rest of her life. I've promised to marry him because I like him and
+he's a suitable match. And I don't see by what right you try and run him
+down to me behind his back! If it's jealousy, then it shows a very petty
+spirit!"
+
+Robin Greve stepped close up to Mary Trevert. His eyes were very angry
+and his jaw was set very square.
+
+"If you are determined to sell yourself to the highest bidder," he said,
+"I suppose there's no stopping you. But you're making a mistake. If
+Parrish were all you claim for him, you might not repent of his marriage
+so long as you did not care for somebody else. But I know you love me,
+and it breaks my heart to see you blundering into everlasting
+unhappiness ..."
+
+"At least Hartley will be able to keep me," the girl flashed out.
+Directly she had spoken she regretted her words.
+
+A red flush spread slowly over Robin Greve's face.
+
+Then he laughed drily.
+
+"You won't be the first woman he's kept!" be retorted, and stamped out
+of the billiard-room.
+
+The girl gave a little gasp. Then she reddened with anger.
+
+"How dare he?" she cried, stamping her foot; "how dare he?"
+
+She sank on the lounge and, burying her face in her hands, burst into
+tears.
+
+"Oh, Robin, Robin, dear!" she sobbed--incomprehensibly, for she was a
+woman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+AT TWILIGHT
+
+There is a delicious snugness, a charming lack of formality, about the
+ceremony of afternoon tea in an English country-house--it is much too
+indefinite a rite to dignify it by the name of meal--which makes it the
+most pleasant reunion of the day. For English country-house parties
+consist, for the most part, of a succession of meals to which the guests
+flock the more congenially as, in the interval, they have contrived to
+avoid one another's companionship.
+
+And so, scarcely had the last reverberation of Bude's measured gonging
+died away than the French window leading from the lounge-hall on to the
+terrace was pushed open and two of Hartley Parrish's guests emerged from
+the falling darkness without into the pleasant comfort of the firelit
+room.
+
+They were an oddly matched pair. The one was a tubby little man with
+short bristly grey hair and a short bristly grey moustache to match. His
+stumpy legs looked ridiculous in his baggy golf knickers of rough tweed,
+which he wore with gaiters extending half-way up his short, stout
+calves. As he came in, he slung off the heavy tweed shooting-cloak he
+had been wearing and placed it with his Homburg hat on a chair.
+
+This was Dr. Romain, whose name thus written seems indecently naked
+without the string of complementary initials indicative of the honours
+and degrees which years of bacteriological research had heaped upon him.
+His companion was a tall, slim, fair-haired young man, about as good a
+specimen of the young Englishman turned out by the English public school
+as one could find. He was extremely good-looking with a proud eye and
+finely chiselled features, but the suggestion of youth in his face and
+figure was countered by a certain poise, a kind of latent seriousness
+which contrasted strangely with the general cheery _insouciance_ of his
+type.
+
+A soldier would have spotted the symptoms at once, "Five years of war!"
+would have been his verdict--that long and strange entry into life of so
+many thousands of England's manhood which impressed the stamp of
+premature seriousness on all those who came through. And Captain Sir
+Horace Trevert, Bart., D.S.O., had gone from his famous school straight
+into a famous regiment, had won his decoration before he was twenty-one,
+and been twice wounded into the bargain.
+
+"Where's everybody?" queried the doctor, rubbing his hands at the
+blazing log-fire.
+
+"Robin and Mary went off to play billiards," said the young man, "and I
+left old Parrish after lunch settling down for an afternoon's work in
+the library ..."
+
+He crossed the room to the fire and stood with his back to the flame.
+
+"What a worker that man is!" ejaculated the doctor. "He had one of his
+secretaries down this morning with a car full of portfolios,
+blue-prints, specifications, and God knows what else. Parrish polished
+the whole lot off and packed the fellow back to London before mid-day.
+Some of Hornaway's people who were waiting went in next, and he was
+through with them by lunch-time!"
+
+Trevert wagged his head in admiration.
+
+"And he told me he wanted to have a quiet week-end!" he said. "That's
+why he has no secretary living in the house."
+
+"A quiet week-end!" repeated Romain drily. "Ye gods!"
+
+"He's a marvel for work," said the young man.
+
+"He certainly is," replied the doctor. "He's done wonders with
+Hornaway's. When he took the place over at the beginning of the war,
+they were telling me, it was a little potty concern making toy air guns
+or lead soldiers or something of the sort. And they never stop coining
+money now, it seems. Parrish must be worth millions ..."
+
+"Lucky devil!" said Trevert genially.
+
+"Ah!" observed the doctor sententiously, "but he's had to work for it,
+mark you! He's had the most extraordinary life, they tell me. He was at
+one period of his career a bartender on the Rand, a man was saying at
+the club the other day. But most of his life he's lived in Canada, I
+gather. He was telling us the other evening, before you and Mary came
+down, that he was once a brakeman on the Canadian Pacific Railway. He
+said he invested all his savings in books on engineering and read them
+in his brakeman's van on his trips across the Dominion. Ah! he's a fine
+fellow!"
+
+He lowered his voice discreetly.
+
+"And a devilish good match, eh, Horace?"
+
+The young man flushed slightly.
+
+"Yes," he said unwillingly.
+
+"A dam' good match for somebody," urged the doctor with a malicious
+twinkle in his eye.
+
+"Here, Doc," said Horace, suddenly turning on him, "you stick to your
+bugs and germs. What do you know about matchmaking, anyway?"
+
+Dr. Romain chuckled.
+
+"We bacteriologists are trained observers. One learns a lot watching the
+life and habits of the bacillus, Horace, my boy. And between ourselves,
+Parrish would be a lucky fellow if ..."
+
+Trevert turned to him. His face was quite serious, and there was a
+little touch of hauteur in his voice. He was the 17th Baronet.
+
+"My dear Doc," he said, "aren't you going a bit fast? Parrish is a very
+good chap, but one knows nothing about him ..."
+
+Sagely the doctor nodded his grizzled head.
+
+"That's true," he agreed. "He appears to have no relatives and nobody
+over here seems to have heard of him before the war. A man was saying at
+the Athenaeum the other day ..."
+
+Trevert touched his elbow. Bude had appeared, portly, imperturbable,
+bearing a silver tray set out with the appliances for tea.
+
+"Bude," cried Trevert, "don't tell me there are no tea-cakes again!"
+
+"On the contrairey, sir," answered the butler in the richly sonorous
+voice pitched a little below the normal register which he employed
+abovestairs, "the cook has had her attention drawn to it. There are
+tea-cakes, sir!"
+
+With a certain dramatic effect--for Bude was a trifle theatrical in
+everything he did--he whipped the cover off a dish and displayed a
+smoking pile of deliciously browned scones.
+
+"Bude," said Trevert, "when I'm a Field Marshal, I'll see you get the
+O.B.E. for this!"
+
+The butler smiled a nicely regulated three-by-one smile, a little
+deprecatory as was his wont. Then, like a tank taking a corner, he
+wheeled majestically and turned to cross the lounge. To reach the green
+baize door leading to the servants' quarters he had to cross the outer
+hall from which led corridors on the right and left. That on the right
+led to the billiard-room; that on the left to the big drawing-room with
+the library beyond.
+
+As Bude reached the great screen of tooled Spanish leather which
+separated a corner of the lounge from the outer hall, Robin Greve came
+hastily through the glass door of the corridor leading from the
+billiard-room. The butler with a pleasant smile drew back a little to
+allow the young man to pass, thinking he was going into the lounge for
+tea.
+
+"Tea is ..." he began, but abruptly ended the sentence on catching sight
+of the young man's face. For Robin, habitually so self-possessed, looked
+positively haggard. His face was set and there was a weary look in his
+eyes. The young man appeared so utterly different from his wonted self
+that Bude fairly stared at him.
+
+But Robin, without paying the least attention either to the butler or to
+the sound of voices in the lounge, strode across the outer hall and
+disappeared through the glass door of the corridor leading to the great
+drawing-room and the library.
+
+Bude stood an instant gazing after him in perplexity, then moved across
+the hall to the servants' quarters.
+
+In the meantime in the lounge the little doctor snapped the case of his
+watch and opined that he wanted his tea.
+
+"Where on earth has everybody got to? What's become of Lady Margaret? I
+haven't seen her since lunch...."
+
+That lady answered his question by appearing in person.
+
+Lady Margaret was tall and hard and glittering. Like so many
+Englishwomen of good family, she was so saturated with the traditions of
+her class that her manner was almost indistinguishable from that of a
+man. Well-mannered, broadminded, wholly cynical, and absolutely
+fearless, she went through life exactly as though she were following a
+path carefully taped out for her by a suitably instructed Providence.
+Somewhere beneath the mask of smiling indifference she presented so
+bravely to a difficult world, she had a heart, but so carefully did she
+hide it that Horace had only discovered it on a certain grey November
+morning when he had started out for the first time on active service.
+For ever afterwards a certain weighing-machine at Waterloo Station, by
+which he had had a startling vision of his mother standing with heaving
+bosom and tear-stained face, possessed in his mind the attributes of
+some secret and sacred shrine.
+
+But now she was cool and well-gowned and self-contained as ever.
+
+"What a perfectly dreadful day!" she exclaimed in her pleasant,
+well-bred voice. "Horace, you must positively go and see Henry
+What's-his-name in the Foreign Office and get me a passport for Cannes.
+The weather in England in the winter is incredibly exaggerated!"
+
+"At least," said the doctor, rubbing his back as he warmed himself at
+the fire, "we have fuel in England. Give me England, climate and all,
+but don't take away my fire. The sun doesn't shine on the Riviera at
+night, you know!"
+
+Lady Margaret busied herself at the tea-table with its fine Queen Anne
+silver and dainty yellow cups. It was the custom at Harkings to serve
+tea in the winter without other illumination than the light of the
+great log-fire that spat and leaped in the open hearth. Beyond the
+semi-circle of ruddy light the great lounge was all in darkness, and
+beyond that again was the absolute stillness of the English country on a
+winter's evening.
+
+And so with a gentle clatter of teacups and the accompaniment of
+pleasantly modulated voices they sat and chatted--Lady Margaret, who was
+always surprising in what she said, the doctor who was incredibly
+opinionated, and young Trevert, who like all of the younger generation
+was daringly flippant. He was airing his views on what he called "Boche
+music" when he broke off and cried:
+
+"Hullo, here's Mary! Mary, you owe me half a crown. Bude has come up to
+scratch and there are tea-cakes after ... but, I say, what on earth's
+the matter?"
+
+The girl had come into the room and was standing in the centre of the
+lounge in the ruddy glow of the fire. Her face was deathly pale and she
+was shuddering violently. She held her little cambric handkerchief
+crushed up into a ball to her lips. Her eyes were fixed, almost glazed,
+like one who walks in a trance.
+
+She stood like that for an instant surveying the group--Lady Margaret, a
+silver tea-pot in one hand, looking at her with uplifted brows. Horace,
+who in his amazement had taken a step forward, and the doctor at his
+side scrutinizing her beneath his shaggy eyebrows.
+
+"My dear Mary "--it was Lady Margaret's smooth and pleasant voice which
+broke the silence--"whatever is the matter? Have you seen a ghost!"
+
+The girl swayed a little and opened her lips as if to speak. A log,
+crashing from the fire into the grate, fell upon the silence of the
+darkening room. It seemed to break the spell.
+
+"Hartley!"
+
+The name came hoarsely from the girl. Everybody, except Lady Margaret,
+sprang to his feet It was the doctor who spoke first.
+
+"Miss Mary," he said, "you seem frightened, what ..."
+
+His voice was very soothing.
+
+Mary Trevert made a vague gesture towards the shadows about the
+staircase.
+
+"There ... in the library ... he's got the door locked ... there was a
+shot ..."
+
+Then she suddenly screamed aloud.
+
+In a stride both the doctor and her brother were by her side. But she
+motioned them away.
+
+"I'm frightened about Hartley," she said in a low voice, "please go at
+once and see what ... that shot ... and he doesn't answer!"
+
+"Come on, Doctor!"
+
+Horace Trevert was halfway to the big screen separating the lounge from
+the outer hall. As he passed the bell, he pressed it.
+
+"Send Bude to us, Mother, when he comes, please!" he called as he and
+the doctor hurried away.
+
+Lady Margaret had risen and stood, one arm about her daughter, on the
+Persian rug spread out before the cheerful fire. So the women stood in
+the firelight in Hartley Parrish's house, surrounded by all the
+treasures which his wealth had bought, and listened to the footsteps
+clattering away through the silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+A DISCOVERY
+
+Harkings was not a large house. Some three hundred years ago it had been
+a farm, but in the intervening years successive owners had so altered it
+by pulling down and building on, that, when it passed into the
+possession of Hartley Parrish, little else than the open fireplace in
+the lounge remained to tell of the original farm. It was a queer,
+rambling house of only two stories whose elongated shape was accentuated
+by the additional wing which Hartley Parrish had built on.
+
+For the decoration of his country-house, Parrish had placed himself
+unreservedly in the hands of the firm entrusted with the work. Their
+architect was given _carte blanche_ to produce a house of character out
+of the rather dingy, out-of-date country villa which Harkings was when
+Hartley Parrish, attracted by the view from the gardens, first
+discovered it.
+
+The architect had gone to his work with a zest. He had ripped up walls
+and ceilings and torn down irrational matchwood partitions, discovering
+some fine old oak wainscot and the blackened roof-beams of the original
+farmstead. In the upshot he transformed Harkings into a very fair
+semblance of a late Jacobean house, fitted with every modern convenience
+and extremely comfortable. Furnished throughout with genuine "period"
+furniture, with fine dark oak panelling and parquet floors, it was
+altogether picturesque. Neither within nor without, it is true, would a
+connoisseur have been able to give it a date.
+
+But that did not worry Hartley Parrish. He loved a bargain and he had
+bought the house cheap. It was situated in beautiful country and was
+within easy reach by car of his town-house in St. James's Square where
+he lived for the greater part of the week. Last but not least Harkings
+was the casket enshrining a treasure, the realization of a lifelong
+wish. This was the library, Parrish's own room, designed by himself and
+furnished to his own individual taste.
+
+It stood apart from the rest of the house at the end of the wing which
+Parrish had constructed. The wing consisted of a single ground floor and
+contained the drawing-room--which was scarcely ever used, as both
+Parrish and his guests preferred the more congenial surroundings of the
+lounge--and the library. A long corridor panelled in oak led off the
+hall to the new wing. On to this corridor both the drawing-room and the
+library gave. Halfway down the corridor a small passage ran off. It
+separated the drawing-room from the library and ended in a door leading
+into the gardens at the back of the house.
+
+It was to the new wing that Horace Trevert and Dr. Komain now hastened.
+They hurried across the hall, where the big lamp of dulled glass threw a
+soft yellow light, and entered the corridor through the heavy oak door
+which shut it off from the hall. The corridor was wrapt in silence.
+Halfway down, where the small passage ran to the garden door, the
+electric light was burning.
+
+Horace Trevert ran down the corridor ahead of the doctor and was the
+first to reach the library door. He knocked sharply, then turned the
+handle. The door was locked.
+
+"Hartley!" he cried and rapped again. "Ha-a-artley! Open the door! It's
+me, Horace!"
+
+Again he knocked and rattled the handle. Not a sound came from the
+locked room. There was an instant's silence. Horace and the doctor
+exchanged an interrogatory look.
+
+From behind the closed door came the steady ticking of a clock. The
+silence was so absolute that both men heard it.
+
+Then the door at the end of the corridor was flung open and Bude
+appeared. He was running at a quick ambling trot, his heavy tread
+shaking the passage,
+
+"Oh? sir," he cried, "whatever is it? What has happened?"
+
+Horace spoke quickly, incisively.
+
+"Something's happened to Mr. Parrish, Bude," he said. "The door's locked
+and he doesn't answer. We'll have to break the door down."
+
+Bude shook his head.
+
+"It's solid oak, sir," he began.
+
+Then he raised his hand.
+
+"Pardon me, gentlemen," he said, as though an idea had struck him. "If
+we were to go out by the garden door here, we might get in through the
+window. We could break the glass if needs be!"
+
+"That's it!" exclaimed Horace. "Come on, Doctor!"
+
+He dashed down the corridor towards the little passage. The doctor laid
+a hand on Bude's arm.
+
+"One of us had better stay here," he said with a meaning glance at the
+closed door.
+
+The butler raised an affrighted face to his.
+
+"Go with Sir Horace, Bude," said the doctor. "I'll stay!"
+
+Outside in the gardens of Harkings it was a raw, damp evening,
+pitch-black now, with little gusts of wind which shook the naked bushes
+of the rosery. The garden door led by a couple of shallow steps on to a
+gravel path which ran all along the back of the house. The path extended
+right up to the wall of the house. On the other side it flanked the
+rosery.
+
+The glass door was banging to and fro in the night wind as Bude, his
+coat-collar turned up, hurried out into the darkness. The library, which
+formed the corner of the new wing, had two windows, the one immediately
+above the gravel path looking out over the rosery, the other round the
+corner of the house giving on the same path, beyond which ran a high
+hedge of clipped box surrounding the so-called Pleasure Ground, a plot
+of smooth grass with a sundial in the centre.
+
+A glow of light came from the library window, and in its radiance Bude
+saw silhouetted the tall, well-knit figure of young Trevert. As the
+butler came up, the boy raised something in his hand and there was a
+crash of broken glass.
+
+The curtains were drawn, but with the breaking of the window they began
+to flap about. With the iron grating he had picked up from the drain
+below the window young Trevert smashed the rest of the glass away, then
+thrust an arm through the empty window-frame, fumbling for the
+window-catch.
+
+"The catch is not fastened," he whispered, and with a resolute thrust he
+pushed the window up. The curtains leapt up wildly, revealing a glimpse
+of the pleasant, book-lined room. Both men from the darkness without saw
+Parrish's desk littered with his papers and his habitual chair beyond
+it, pushed back empty.
+
+Trevert turned an instant, a hand on the window-sill.
+
+"Bude," he said, "there's no one there!"
+
+"Best look and see, sir," replied the butler, his coat-tails flapping in
+the wind.
+
+Trevert hoisted himself easily on to the window-sill, knelt there for an
+instant, then thrust his legs over the sill and dropped into the room.
+As he did so he stumbled, cried aloud.
+
+Then the heavy grey curtains were flung back and the butler saw the
+boy's face, rather white, at the open window.
+
+"My God," he said slowly, "he's dead!"
+
+A moment later Dr. Romain, waiting in the corridor, heard the key turn
+in the lock of the library door. The door was flung open. Horace Trevert
+stood there, silhouetted in a dull glow of light from the room. He was
+pointing to the open window, beneath which Hartley Parrish lay on his
+back motionless.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+BETWEEN THE DESK AND THE WINDOW
+
+Hartley Parrish's library was a splendid room, square in shape, lofty
+and well proportioned. It was lined with books arranged in shelves of
+dark brown oak running round the four walls, but sunk level with them
+and reaching up to a broad band of perfectly plain white plasterwork.
+
+It was a cheerful, comfortable, eminently modern room, half library,
+half office. The oak was solid, but uncompromisingly new. The great
+leather armchairs were designed on modern lines--for comfort rather
+than for appearance. There were no pictures; but vases of chrysanthemums
+stood here and there about the room. A dictaphone in a case was in a
+corner, but beside it was a little table on which were set out some rare
+bits of old Chelsea. There was also a gramophone, but it was enclosed in
+a superb case of genuine old black-and-gold lacquer. The very books in
+their shelves carried on this contrast of business with recreation. For
+while one set of shelves contained row upon row of technical works,
+company reports, and all manner of business reference books bound in
+leather, on another were to be found the vellum-bound volumes of the
+Kelmscott Press.
+
+A sober note of grey or mole colour was the colour scheme of the room.
+The heavy pile carpet which stretched right up to the walls was of this
+quiet neutral shade: so were the easy-chairs, and the colour of the
+heavy curtains, which hung in front of the two high windows, was in
+harmony with the restful decorative scheme of the room.
+
+The massive oaken door stood opposite the window overlooking the
+rosery--the window through which Horace Trevert had entered. Parrish's
+desk was in front of this window, between it and the door in
+consequence. By the other window, which, as has been stated, looked out
+on the clipped hedge surrounding the Pleasure Ground, was the little
+table with the Chelsea china, the dictaphone, and one of the
+easy-chairs. The centre of the room was clear so that nothing lay
+between the door and the carved mahogany chair at the desk. Here, as
+they all knew, Parrish was accustomed to sit when working, his back to
+the door, his face to the window overlooking the rosery.
+
+The desk stood about ten feet from the window. On it was a large brass
+lamp which cast a brilliant circle of light upon the broad flat top of
+the desk with its orderly array of letter-trays, its handsome
+silver-edged blotter and silver and tortoise-shell writing
+appurtenances. By the light of this lamp Dr. Romain, looking from the
+doorway, saw that Hartley Parrish's chair was vacant, pushed back a
+little way from the desk. The rest of the room was wrapt in unrevealing
+half-light.
+
+"He's there by the window!"
+
+Horace was whispering to the doctor. Romain strode over to the desk and
+picked up the lamp. As he did so, his eyes fell upon the pale face of
+Hartley Parrish. He lay on his back in the space between the desk and
+the window. His head was flung back, his eyes, bluish-grey,--the narrow,
+rather expressionless eyes of the successful business man,--were wide
+open and fixed in a sightless stare, his rather full mouth, with its
+clean-shaven lips, was rigid and stern. With the broad forehead, the
+prominent brows, the bold, aggressive nose, and the square bony jaw, it
+was a fighter's face, a fine face save for the evil promise of that
+sensuous mouth. So thought the doctor with the swift psychological
+process of his trade.
+
+From the face his gaze travelled to the body. And then Romain could not
+repress an involuntary start, albeit he saw what he had half expected to
+see. The fleshy right hand of Hartley Parrish grasped convulsively an
+automatic pistol. His clutching index finger was crooked about the
+trigger and the barrel was pressed into the yielding pile of the carpet.
+His other hand with clawing fingers was flung out away from the body on
+the other side. One leg was stretched out to its fullest extent and the
+foot just touched the hem of the grey window curtains. The other leg was
+slightly drawn up.
+
+The doctor raised the lamp from the desk and, dropping on one knee,
+placed it on the ground beside the body. With gentle fingers he
+manipulated the eyes, opened the blue serge coat and waistcoat which
+Parrish was wearing. As he unbuttoned the waistcoat, he laid bare a dark
+red stain on the breast of the fine silk shirt. He opened shirt and
+under-vest, bent an ear to the still form, and then, with a little
+helpless gesture, rose to his feet.
+
+"Dead?" queried Trevert.
+
+Romain nodded shortly.
+
+"Shot through the heart!" he said.
+
+"He looked so ... so limp," the boy said, shrinking back a little, "I
+thought he was dead. But I never thought old Hartley would have done a
+thing like that ..."
+
+The doctor pursed up his lips as if to speak. But he remained silent for
+a moment. Then he said:
+
+"Horace, the police must be informed. We can do that on the telephone.
+This room must be left just as it is until they come. I can do nothing
+more for poor Hartley. And we shall have to tell the others. I'd better
+do that myself. I wonder where Greve is? I haven't seen him all the
+afternoon. As a barrister he should be able to advise us about--er, the
+technicalities: the police and all that ..."
+
+Rapid footsteps reverberated down the corridor. Robin Greve appeared at
+the door. The fat and frightened face of Bude appeared over his
+shoulder.
+
+"Good God, Doctor!" he cried, "what's this Bude tells me?"
+
+The doctor cleared his throat.
+
+"Our poor friend is dead, Greve," he said.
+
+"But how? How?"
+
+Greve stood opposite the doctor in the centre of the library. He had
+switched on the light at the door as he had come in, and the room was
+flooded with soft light thrown by concealed lamps set around the cornice
+of the ceiling.
+
+"Look!" responded the doctor by way of answer and stepped aside to let
+the young man come up to the desk. "He has a pistol in his hand!"
+
+Robin Greve took a step forward and stopped dead. He gazed for an
+instant without speaking on the dead face of his host and rival.
+
+"Suicide!"
+
+It was an affirmation rather than a question, and the little doctor took
+it up. He was not a young man and the shock and the excitement were
+beginning to tell on his nerves.
+
+"I am not a police surgeon," he said with some asperity; "in fact, I may
+say I have not seen a dead body since my hospital days. I ... I ... know
+nothing about these things. This is a matter for the police. They must
+be summoned at once. Where's Bude?"
+
+Robin Greve turned quickly.
+
+"Get on to the police station at Stevenish at once, Bude," he ordered.
+"Do you know the Inspector?"
+
+"Yessir," the butler answered in a hollow voice. His hands were
+trembling violently, and he seemed to control himself with difficulty.
+"Mr. Humphries, sir!"
+
+"Well, ring him up and tell him that Mr. Parrish ... Hullo, what do all
+these people want?"
+
+There was a commotion at the door. Frightened faces were framed in the
+doorway. Outside there was the sound of a woman whimpering. A tall, dark
+young man in a tail coat came in quickly. He stopped short when he saw
+the solemn faces of the group at the desk. It was Parrish's man, Jay.
+He stepped forward to the desk and in a frightened sort of way peered at
+the body as it lay on the floor.
+
+"Oh, sir," he said breathlessly, addressing Greve, "what ever has
+happened to Mr. Parrish? It can't be true ..."
+
+Greve put his hand on the young man's shoulder.
+
+"I'm sorry to say it is true, Jay," he answered.
+
+"He was very good to us all," the valet replied in a broken voice. He
+remained by the desk staring at the body in a dazed fashion.
+
+"Who is that crying outside?" Greve demanded. "This is no place for
+women ..."
+
+"It's Mrs. Heever, the housekeeper," Bude answered.
+
+"Well, she must go back to her room. Send all those servants away. Jay,
+will you see to it? And take care that Lady Margaret and Miss Trevert
+don't come in here, either."
+
+"Sir Horace is with them, sir, in the lounge," said Jay and went out.
+
+"I'll go to them. I think I'd better," exclaimed the doctor. "I shall be
+in the lounge when they want me. A dreadful affair! Dreadful!"
+
+The little doctor bustled out, leaving Greve and the butler alone in the
+room with the mortal remains of Hartley Parrish lying where he had
+fallen on the soft grey carpet.
+
+"Now, Bude," said Greve incisively, "get on to the police at once. You'd
+better telephone from the servant's hall. I'll have a look round here in
+the meantime!"
+
+Bude stood for an instant irresolute. He glanced shrewdly at the young
+man.
+
+"Go on," said Robin quickly; "what are you waiting for, man? There's no
+time to lose."
+
+Slowly the butler turned and tiptoed away, his ungainly body swaying
+about as he stole across the heavy pile carpet. He went out of the room,
+closing the door softly behind him. He left Greve sunk in a reverie at
+the desk, gazing with unseeing eyes upon the dead face of the master of
+Harkings.
+
+That sprawling corpse, the startled realization of death stamped for
+ever in the wide, staring eyes, was indeed a subject for meditation.
+There, in the midst of all the evidences of Hartley Parrish's meteoric
+rise to affluence and power, Greve pondered for an instant on the
+strange pranks which Fate plays us poor mortals.
+
+Parrish had risen, as Greve and all the world knew, from the bottom rung
+of the ladder. He had had a bitter fight for existence, had made his
+money, as Greve had heard, with a blind and ruthless determination
+which spoke of the stern struggle of other days. And Robin, who, too,
+had had his own way to make in the world, knew how the memory of earlier
+struggles went to sweeten the flavour of ultimate success.
+
+Yet here was Hartley Parrish, with his vast financial undertakings, his
+soaring political ambitions, his social aims which, Robin realized
+bitterly, had more than a little to do with his project for marrying
+Mary Trevert, stricken down suddenly, without warning, in the very
+heyday of success.
+
+"Why should he have done it?" he whispered to himself, "why, my God,
+why?"
+
+But the mask-like face at his feet, as he bent to scan it once more,
+gave no answer to the riddle. Determination, ambition, was portrayed on
+the keen, eager face even in death.
+
+With a little hopeless gesture the young barrister glanced round the
+room. His eye fell upon the desk. He saw a neat array of letter-trays,
+costly silver and tortoise-shell writing appointments, a couple of heavy
+gold fountain pens, and an orderly collection of pencils. Lying flat on
+the great silver-edged blotter was a long brown envelope which had been
+opened. Propped up against the large crystal ink-well was a letter
+addressed simply "Miss Mary Trevert" in Hartley Parrish's big,
+vigorous, and sprawling handwriting.
+
+The letter to Mary Trevert, Robin did not touch. But he picked up the
+long brown envelope. On the back it bore a printed seal. The envelope
+contained a document and a letter. At the sight of it the young man
+started. It was Hartley Parrish's will. The letter was merely a covering
+note from Mr. Bardy, of the firm of Jerringham, Bardy and Company, a
+well-known firm of solicitors, dated the previous evening. Robin
+replaced letter and document in their envelope without reading them.
+
+"So that's it!" he murmured to himself. "Suicide? But why?"
+
+All the letter-trays save one were empty. In this was a little heap of
+papers and letters. Robin glanced through them. There were two or three
+prospectuses, a notice of a golf match, a couple of notes from West End
+tradesmen enclosing receipts and an acknowledgement from the bank. There
+was only one personal letter--a business communication from a Rotterdam
+firm. Robin glanced at the letter. It was typewritten on paper of a dark
+slatey-blue shade. It was headed, "ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & Co., GENERAL
+IMPORTERS, ROTTERDAM," and dealt with steel shipments.
+
+Robin dropped the letter back into the tray and turned to survey the
+room. It was in perfect order. Except for the still form lying on the
+floor and the broken pane of glass in the window, there was nothing to
+tell of the tragedy which had been enacted there that afternoon. There
+were no papers to hint at a crisis save the prosaic-looking envelope
+containing the will, and Parrish's note for Mary. The waste-paper
+basket, a large and business-like affair in white wicker, had been
+cleared.
+
+Robin walked across to the fireplace. The flames leapt eagerly about a
+great oak log which hissed fitfully on top of the glowing coals
+contained in the big iron fire-basket. The grate was bare and tidy. As
+the young man looked at the fire, a little whirl of blue smoke whisked
+out of the wide fireplace and eddied into the room. Robin sniffed. The
+room smelt smoky. Now he remembered he had noticed it as he came in.
+
+He stood an instant gazing thoughtfully at the blazing and leaping fire.
+He threw a quick glance at the window where the curtains tossed fitfully
+in the breeze coming through the broken pane. Suddenly he stepped
+quickly across the room and, lifting the reading-lamp from the table,
+bore it over to the window which he scrutinized narrowly by its light.
+Then he dropped on one knee beside the dead body, placing the lamp on
+the floor beside him.
+
+He lifted the dead man's left hand and narrowly examined the nails.
+Without touching the right hand which clasped the revolver, he studied
+its nails too. He rose and took the gold-mounted reading-glass from the
+desk and scrutinized the nails of both hands through the glass.
+
+Then he rose to his feet again and, having replaced lamp and
+reading-glass on the desk, stood there thoughtfully, his brown hands
+clasped before him. His eyes wandered from the desk to the window and
+from the window to the corpse. Then he noticed on the carpet between the
+dead body and the desk a little ball of slatey-blue paper. He bent down
+and picked it up. He had begun to unroll it when the library door was
+flung open. Robin thrust the scrap of paper in his pocket and turned to
+face the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+IN WHICH BUDE LOOKS AT ROBIN GREVE
+
+The library door opened. A large, square-built, florid man in the
+braided uniform of a police inspector stood on the threshold of the
+room. Beside him was Bude who, with an air of dignity and respectful
+mourning suitably blended, waved him into the room.
+
+"The--ahem!--body is in here, Mr. Humphries, sir!"
+
+Inspector Humphries stepped quickly into the room. A little countryfied
+in appearance and accent, he had the careful politeness, the measured
+restraint, and the shrewd eye of the typical police officer. In thirty
+years' service he had risen from village constable to be Inspector of
+county police. Slow to anger, rather stolid, and with an excellent
+heart, he had a vein of shrewd common sense not uncommonly found in that
+fast disappearing species, the English peasant.
+
+He nodded shortly to Greve, and with a tread that shook the room strode
+across to where Hartley Parrish was lying dead. In the meantime a
+harassed-looking man with a short grey beard, wearing a shabby frock
+coat, had slipped into the room behind the Inspector. He approached
+Greve.
+
+"Dr. Romain?" he queried, peering through his gold spectacles, "the
+butler said ..."
+
+"No, my name is Greve," answered Robin. "I am staying in the house. This
+is Dr. Romain."
+
+He motioned to the door. Dr. Romain came bustling into the room.
+
+"Glad to see you here so promptly, Inspector," he said. "A shocking
+business, very. Is this the doctor? I am Dr. Romain ..."
+
+Dr. Redstone bowed with alacrity.
+
+"A great privilege, sir," he said staidly. "I have followed your work...."
+
+But the other did not let him finish.
+
+"Shot through the heart ... instantaneous death ... severe haemorrhage ...
+the pistol is there ... in his hand. A man with everything he wanted
+in the world ... I can't understand it. 'Pon my soul, I can't!"
+
+The Inspector, who had been kneeling by the corpse, motioned with his
+head to the village doctor. Dr. Redstone went to him and began a cursory
+examination of the body. The Inspector rose.
+
+"I understand from the butler, gentlemen," he said, "that it was Miss
+Trevert, a lady staying in the house, who heard the shot fired. I should
+like to see her, please. And you, sir, are you a relation of ..."
+
+Greve, thus addressed, hastily replied.
+
+"Only a friend, Inspector. I am staying in the house. I am a barrister.
+Perhaps I may be able to assist you ..."
+
+Humphries shot a slow, shrewd glance at him from beneath his shaggy
+blond eyebrows.
+
+"Thank you, sir, much obliged, I'm sure. Now"--he thrust a hand into his
+tunic and produced a large leather-bound notebook--"do you know anything
+as would throw a light on this business?"
+
+Greve shook his head.
+
+"He seemed perfectly cheerful at lunch. He left the dining-room directly
+after he had taken his coffee."
+
+"Where did he go?"
+
+"He came here to work. He told us at lunch that he was going to shut
+himself up in the library for the whole afternoon as he had a lot of
+work to get through."
+
+The Inspector made a note or two in his book. Then he paused
+thoughtfully tapping the end of his pencil against his teeth.
+
+"It was Miss Trevert, you say, who found the body?"
+
+"No," Greve replied. "Her brother, Sir Horace Trevert. It was Miss
+Trevert who heard the shot fired."
+
+"The door was locked, I think?"
+
+"On the inside. But here is Sir Horace Trevert. He will tell you how he
+got through the window and discovered the body."
+
+Horace Trevert gave a brief account of his entry into the library. Again
+the Inspector scribbled in his notebook.
+
+"One or two more questions, gentlemen, please," he said, "and then I
+should wish to see Miss Trevert. Firstly, who saw Mr. Hartley Parrish
+last: and at what time?"
+
+Horace Trevert looked at Greve.
+
+"It would be when he left us after lunch, wouldn't it?" he said.
+
+"Certainly, certainly," Dr. Romain broke in. "He left us all together in
+the dining-room, you, Horace and Robin and Lady Margaret and Mary ...
+Miss Trevert and her mother, you know," he added by way of explanation
+to the Inspector.
+
+"And he went straight to the library?"
+
+"Straight away, Mr. Humphries, sir," broke in Bude. "Mr. Parrish crossed
+me in the hall and gave me particular instructions that he was not to be
+disturbed."
+
+"That was at what time?"
+
+"About two-thirty, sir."
+
+"Then you were the last person to see him before ..."
+
+"Why, no ... that is, unless ..."
+
+The butler hesitated, casting a quick glance round his audience.
+
+"What do you mean?" rapped out the Inspector, looking up from his
+notebook. "Did anybody else see Mr. Parrish in spite of his orders?"
+
+Bude was silent. He was looking at Greve.
+
+"Come on," said Humphries sternly. "You heard my question? What makes
+you think anybody else had access to Mr. Parrish before the shot was
+heard?"
+
+Bude made a little resigned gesture of the hands.
+
+"Well, sir, I thought ... I made sure that Mr. Greve ..."
+
+There was a moment's tense silence.
+
+"Well?" snapped Humphries.
+
+"I was going to say I made certain that Mr. Greve was going to Mr.
+Parrish in the library to tell him tea was ready. Mr. Greve passed me in
+the hall and went down the library corridor just after I had served the
+tea."
+
+All eyes turned to Robin.
+
+"It's perfectly true," he said. "I went out into the gardens for a
+mouthful of fresh air just before tea. I left the house by the side door
+off the corridor here. I didn't go to the library, though. It is an
+understood thing in this house that no one ever disturbs Mr. Parrish
+when he ..."
+
+He broke off sharply.
+
+"My God, Mary," he cried, "you mustn't come in here!"
+
+All turned round at his loud exclamation. Mary Trevert stood in the
+doorway. Dr. Romain darted forward.
+
+"My dear," he said soothingly, "you mustn't be here ..."
+
+Passively she let him lead her into the corridor. The Inspector
+continued his examination.
+
+"At what time did you come along this corridor, sir?" he asked Robin.
+
+"It was not long after the tea gong went," answered Robin, "about ten
+minutes past five, I should say ..."
+
+"And you heard nothing?"
+
+Robin shook his head.
+
+"Absolutely nothing," he replied. "The corridor was perfectly quiet. I
+stepped out into the grounds, went for a turn round the house, but it
+was raining, so I came in almost at once."
+
+"At what time was that?"
+
+"When I came in ... oh, about two or three minutes later, say about a
+quarter past five."
+
+Humphries turned to Horace Trevert.
+
+"What time was it when Miss Trevert heard the shot?"
+
+Horace puckered up his brow.
+
+"Well," he said, "I don't quite know. We were having tea. It wasn't much
+after five--I should say about a quarter past."
+
+"Then the shot that Miss Trevert heard would have been fired just about
+the time that you, sir," he turned to Robin, "were coming in from your
+stroll."
+
+"Somewhere about that time, I should say!" Robin answered rather
+thoughtfully.
+
+"Did you hear it?" queried the Inspector.
+
+"No," said Robin.
+
+"But surely you must have been at or near the side door at the time as
+you were coming in ..."
+
+"I came in by the front door," said Robin, "on the other side of the
+house ..."
+
+Very carefully the Inspector closed his notebook, thrust the pencil back
+in its place along the back, fastened the elastic about the book, and
+turned to Horace Trevert.
+
+"And now, sir, if I might speak to Miss Trevert alone for a minute ..."
+
+"I say, though," expostulated Horace, "my sister's awfully upset, you
+know. Is it absolutely necessary?"
+
+"Aye, sir, it is!" said the Inspector. "But there's no need for me to
+see her in here. Perhaps in some other room ..."
+
+"The drawing-room is next to this," the butler put in; "they'd be nice
+and quiet in there, Sir Horace."
+
+The Inspector acquiesced. Dr. Redstone drew him aside for a whispered
+colloquy.
+
+The Inspector came back to Robin and Horace.
+
+"The doctor would like to have the body taken upstairs to Mr. Parrish's
+room," he said. "He wishes to make a more detailed examination if Dr.
+Romain would help him. If one of you gentlemen could give orders about
+this ... I have two officers outside who would lend a hand. And this
+room must then be shut and locked. Sergeant Harris!" he called.
+
+"Sir!"
+
+A stout sergeant appeared at the library door.
+
+"As soon as the body has been removed, you will lock the room and bring
+the key to me. And you will return here and see that no one attempts to
+get into the room. Understand?"
+
+"Yessir!"
+
+"Inspector!"
+
+Robin Greve called Inspector Humphries as the latter was preparing to
+follow Bude to the drawing-room.
+
+"Mr. Parrish seems to have written a note for Miss Trevert," he said,
+pointing at the desk. "And in that envelope you will find Mr. Parrish's
+will. I discovered it there on the desk just before you arrived!"
+
+Again the Inspector shot one of his swift glances at the young man. He
+went over to the desk, shook the document and letter from their
+envelope, glanced at them, and replaced them.
+
+"I don't rightly know that this concerns me, gentlemen," he said slowly.
+"I think I'll just take charge of it. And I'll give Miss Trevert her
+letter."
+
+Taking the two envelopes, he tramped heavily out of the room.
+
+Then in a little while Bude and Jay and two bucolic-looking policemen
+came to the library to move the body of the master of Harkings. Robin
+stood by and watched the little procession pass slowly with silent feet
+across the soft pile carpet and out into the corridor. But his thoughts
+were not with Parrish. He was haunted by the look which Mary Trevert had
+given him as she had stood for an instant at the library door, a look of
+fear, of suspicion. And it made his heart ache.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+THE LETTER
+
+The great drawing-room of Harkings was ablaze with light. The cluster of
+lights in the heavy crystal chandelier and the green-shaded electric
+lamps in their gilt sconces on the plain white-panelled walls coldly lit
+up the formal, little-used room with its gilt furniture, painted piano,
+and huge marble fireplace.
+
+This glittering Louis Seize environment seemed altogether too much for
+the homely Inspector. Whilst waiting for Mary Trevert to come to him, he
+tried several attitudes in turn. The empty hearth frightened him away
+from the mantelpiece, the fragile appearance of a gilt settee decided
+him against risking his sixteen stone weight on its silken cushions, and
+the vastness of the room overawed him when he took up his position in
+the centre of the Aubusson carpet. Finally he selected an ornate chair,
+rather more solid-looking than the rest, which he drew up to a small
+table on the far side of the room. There he sat down, his large red
+hands spread out upon his knees in an attitude of singular
+embarrassment.
+
+But Mary Trevert set him quickly at his ease when presently she came to
+him. She was pale, but quite self-possessed. Indeed, the effort she had
+made to regain her self-control was so marked that it would have
+scarcely escaped the attention of the Inspector, even if he had not had
+a brief vision of her as she had stood for that instant at the library
+door, pale, distraught, and trembling. He was astonished to find her
+cool, collected, almost business-like in the way she sat down, motioned
+him to his seat, and expressed her readiness to tell him all she knew.
+
+The phrases he had been laboriously preparing--"This has been a bad
+shock for you, ma'am"; "You will forgive me, I'm sure, ma'am, for
+calling upon you at a moment such as this"--died away on his lips as
+Mary Trevert said:
+
+"Ask me any questions you wish, Inspector. I will tell you everything I
+can."
+
+"That's very good of you, ma'am, I'm sure," answered the Inspector,
+unstrapping his notebook, "and I'll try and not detain you long. Now,
+then, tell me what you know of this sad affair ..."
+
+Mary Trevert plucked an instant nervously at her little cambric
+handerchief in her lap. Then she said:
+
+"I went to the library from the billiard-room ..."
+
+"A moment," interposed the Inspector. "What time was that?"
+
+"A little after five. The tea gong had gone some time. I was going to
+the library to tell Mr. Parrish that tea was ready ..."
+
+Mr. Humphries made a note. He nodded to show he was listening.
+
+"I crossed the hall and went down the library corridor. I knocked on the
+library door. There was no reply. Then I heard a shot and a sort of
+thud."
+
+Despite her effort to remain calm, the girl's voice shook a little. She
+made a little helpless gesture of her hands. A diamond ring she was
+wearing on her finger caught the light and blazed for an instant.
+
+"Then I got frightened. I ran back along the corridor to the lounge
+where the others were and told them."
+
+"When you knocked at the door, you say there was no reply. I suppose,
+now, you tried the handle first."
+
+"Oh, yes ..."
+
+"Then Mr. Parrish would have heard the two sounds? The turning of the
+handle and then the knocking on the door? That's so, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so ..."
+
+"Yet you say there was no reply?"
+
+"No. None at all."
+
+The Inspector jotted a word or two in his notebook as it lay open flat
+upon the table.
+
+"The shot, then, was fired immediately after you had knocked? Not while
+you were knocking?"
+
+"No. I knocked and waited, expecting Mr. Parrish to answer. Instead of
+him answering, there came this shot ..."
+
+"I see. And after the shot was fired there was a crash?"
+
+"A sort of thud--like something heavy falling down."
+
+"And you heard no groan or cry?"
+
+The girl knit her brows for a moment.
+
+"I ... I ... was frightened by the shot. I ... I ... don't seem able to
+remember what happened afterwards. Let me think ... let me think ..."
+
+"There, there," said the Inspector paternally, "don't upset yourself
+like this. Just try and think what happened after you heard the shot
+fired ..."
+
+Mary Trevert shuddered, one slim white hand pressed against her cheek.
+
+"I do remember now," she said, "there _was_ a cry. It was more like a
+sharp exclamation ..."
+
+"And then you heard this crash?"
+
+"Yes ..."
+
+The girl had somewhat regained her self-possession. She dabbed her eyes
+with her handkerchief quickly as though ashamed of her weakness.
+
+"Now," said Humphries, clearing his throat, as though to indicate that
+the conversation had changed, "you and Lady Margaret Trevert knew Mr.
+Parrish pretty well, I believe, Miss Trevert. Have you any idea why he
+should have done this thing?"
+
+Mary Trevert shook her dark head rather wearily.
+
+"It is inconceivable to me ... to all of us," she answered.
+
+"Do you happen to know whether Mr. Parrish had any business worries?"
+
+"He always had a great deal of business on hand and he has had a great
+deal to do lately over some big deal."
+
+"What was it, do you know?"
+
+"He was raising fresh capital for Hornaway's--that is the big
+engineering firm he controls ..."
+
+"Do you know if he was pleased with the way things were shaping?"
+
+"Oh, yes. He told me last night that everything would be finished this
+week. He seemed quite satisfied."
+
+The Inspector paused to make a note.
+
+Then he thrust a hand into the side-pocket of his tunic and produced
+Hartley Parrish's letter.
+
+"This," he said, eyeing the girl as he handed her the letter, "may throw
+some light on the affair!"
+
+Open-eyed, a little surprised, she took the plain white envelope from
+his hand and gazed an instant without speaking, on the bold sprawling
+address--
+
+  _"Miss Mary Trevert."_
+
+"Open it, please," said the Inspector gently.
+
+The girl tore open the envelope. Humphries saw her eyes fill, watched
+the emotion grip her and shake her in her self-control so that she could
+not speak when, her reading done, she gave him back the letter.
+
+Without asking her permission, he took the sheet of fine, expensive
+paper with its neat engraved heading and postal directions, and read
+Hartley Parrish's last message.
+
+  My dear [it ran], I signed my will at Bardy's office
+  yesterday, and he sent it back to me to-day. Just
+  this line to let you know you are properly provided
+  for should anything happen to me. I wanted to fix
+  things so that you and Lady Margaret would not
+  have to worry any more. I just had to _write_.
+  I guess you understand why.
+
+H.
+
+There was a long and impressive silence while the Inspector
+deliberately read the note. Then he looked interrogatively at the girl.
+
+"We were engaged, Inspector," she said. "We were to have been married
+very soon."
+
+A deep flush crept slowly over Mr. Humphries's florid face and spread
+into the roots of his tawny fair hair.
+
+"But what does he mean by 'having to write'?" he asked.
+
+The girl replied hastily, her eyes on the ground.
+
+"Mr. Parrish was under the impression that ... that ... without his
+money I should not have cared for him. That is what he means ..."
+
+"You knew he had provided for you in his will?"
+
+"He told me several times that he intended to leave me everything. You
+see, he has no relatives!"
+
+"I see!" said the Inspector in a reflective voice.
+
+"Had he any enemies, do you know? Anybody who would drive him to a thing
+like this?"
+
+The girl shook her head vehemently.
+
+"No!"
+
+The monosyllable came out emphatically. Again the Inspector darted one
+of his quick, shrewd glances at the girl. She met his scrutiny with her
+habitual serene and candid gaze. The Inspector dropped his eyes and
+scribbled in his book.
+
+"Was his health good?"
+
+"He smoked far too much," the girl said, "and it made him rather nervy.
+But otherwise he never had a day's illness in his life."
+
+Humphries ran his eye over the notes he had made.
+
+"There is just one more question I should like to ask you, Miss
+Trevert," he said, "rather a personal question."
+
+Mary Trevert's hands twisted the cambric handkerchief into a little ball
+and slowly unwound it again. But her face remained quite calm.
+
+"About your engagement to Mr. Parrish ... when did it take place?"
+
+"Some days ago. It has not yet been announced."
+
+The Inspector coughed.
+
+"I was only wondering whether, perhaps, Mr. Parrish was not quite ...
+whether he was, maybe, a little disturbed in his mind about the
+engagement ..."
+
+The girl hesitated. Then she said firmly:
+
+"Mr. Parrish was perfectly happy about it. He was looking forward to our
+being married in the spring."
+
+Mr. Humphries shut his notebook with a snap and rose to his feet.
+
+"Thank you very much, ma'am," he said with a little formal bow. "If you
+will excuse me now. I have the doctor to see again and there's the
+Coroner to be warned ..."
+
+He bowed again and tramped towards the door with a tread that made the
+chandelier tinkle melodiously.
+
+The door closed behind him and his heavy footsteps died away along the
+corridor. Mary Trevert had risen to her feet calm and impassive. But
+when he had gone, her bosom began to heave and a spasm of pain shot
+across her face. Again the tears welled up in her eyes, brimmed over and
+stole down her cheeks.
+
+"If I only _knew!_" she sobbed, "if I only _knew!_"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+VOICES IN THE LIBRARY
+
+The swift tragedy of the winter afternoon had convulsed the
+well-organized repose of Hartley Parrish's household. Nowhere had his
+master grasp of detail been seen to better advantage than in the
+management of his country home. Overwhelmed with work though he
+constantly was, accustomed to carry his business and often part of his
+business staff to Harkings with him for the week-ends, there was never
+the least confusion about the house. The methodical calm of Harkings was
+that of a convent.
+
+Hartley Parrish was wont to say that he paid his butler and housekeeper
+well to save himself from worry. It was rather to ensure his orders
+being punctiliously and promptly carried out. His was the mind behind
+the method which ensured that meals were punctually served and trains at
+Stevenish Station never missed.
+
+But it was into a house in turmoil that Mary Trevert stepped when she
+left the drawing-room and passed along the corridor to go to her room.
+Doors slammed and there was the heavy thud of footsteps on the floor
+above. The glass door leading into the gardens was open, as Mary passed
+it, swinging in the gusts of cold rain. In the gardens without there was
+a confused murmur of voices and the flash of lanterns.
+
+In the hall a knot of servants were gossiping in frightened whispers
+with a couple of large, rather bovine country constables who,
+bareheaded, without their helmets, which they held under their arms,
+looked curiously undressed.
+
+The whispers died away as Mary crossed the hall. All eyes followed her
+with interest as she went. It was as though an echo of her talk with the
+Inspector had by some occult means already spread through the little
+household. Through the half-open green baize door leading to the
+servants' quarters some unseen person was bawling down the telephone in
+a heated controversy with the exchange about a long-distance call to
+London. And but an hour since, the girl reflected sadly, as she mounted
+the oaken staircase, the house had been wrapt in its wonted evening
+silence in response to that firm and dominating personality who had
+passed out in the gloom of the winter twilight.
+
+When, about six months before, Mary and her mother had begun to be
+regular visitors at Harkings, Hartley Parrish had insisted on giving
+Mary a boudoir to herself. This, in response to a chance remark of
+Mary's in admiration of a Chinese room she had seen at a friend's house,
+Parrish had had decorated in the Chinese style with black walls and
+black-and-gold lacquer furniture. The room had been transformed from a
+rather prosaic morning-room with old oak and chintz in the space of
+three days as a surprise for Mary. She remembered now how Parrish had
+left her to make the discovery of the change for herself. She loved
+colour and line, and the contrast between this quaint and delightful
+room with her rather shabby bedroom in her mother's small house in
+Brompton had made this surprise one of the most delightful she had ever
+experienced.
+
+She rang the bell and sat down listlessly in a charmingly lacquered
+Louis Seize armchair in front of the log-fire blazing brightly in the
+fireplace. She was conscious that a great disaster had overtaken her,
+but only dimly conscious. For more poignantly than this dull sense of
+tragedy she was aware of a great aching at her heart, and her thoughts,
+after hovering over the events of the afternoon, settled down upon her
+talk that afternoon ... already how far off it seemed ... with Robin
+Greve in the library,
+
+Robin had always been her hero. She could see him now in the glow of the
+fire as he had been when in the holidays he had come and snatched her
+away from a home already drab and difficult for a matinee and an orgy of
+cream cakes at Gunter's afterwards. He was then a long, slim, handsome
+boy of irrepressible spirits and impulsive generosity which usually left
+him, after the first few days of his holidays, in a state of lamentable
+impecuniosity. All their lives, it seemed to her, they had been friends,
+but with no stronger feeling between them until Robin, having joined the
+Army on the outbreak of war, had come to say good-bye on being ordered
+to France.
+
+But by that time money troubles at home with which, as it seemed to her,
+she had been surrounded all her life, had grown so pressing that, apart
+from Lady Margaret's reiterated counsels, she herself had come to
+recognize that a suitable marriage was the only way out of their
+ever-increasing embarrassment.
+
+She and Robin, she recalled with a feeling of relief, had never
+discussed the matter. He, too, had understood and had sailed for France
+without seeking to take advantage of the circumstance.
+
+Outside in the black night a car throbbed. Footsteps crunched the gravel
+beneath her window. The sounds brought her back to the present with a
+sudden pang. She began to think of Hartley Parrish. All her life she
+had been so very poor that, until she had met this big, vigorous,
+intensely vital man, she had never known what a lavish command of money
+meant. Hartley Parrish did things in a big way. If he wanted a thing he
+bought it, as he had bought Bude, as he had bought a car he had seen
+standing outside a Pall Mall club and admired. He had rooted the owner
+out, bade him name his price, and had paid it, there and then, by
+cheque, and driven Mary off to a lawn tennis tournament at Queen's,
+hugely delighted by her bewilderment.
+
+She did not love him. She could never have learnt to love him. There was
+a gleeful zest in his enjoyment of his money, an ostentatious parade of
+his riches which repelled her. And there was a look in his face, those
+narrow eyes, that hard mouth, which revealed to her womanly intuition a
+ruthlessness which she guessed he kept for his business. But she liked
+him, especially his reverent and chivalrous devotion to her, and the
+thought that his dominating and vital personality was extinguished for
+ever made her conscious of a great void in her life.
+
+And now she was rich. Hartley Parrish's idea of "proper provision" for
+her, she knew, meant wealth for her beyond anything she had ever
+dreamed. The perpetual debasing struggle with poverty which she and her
+mother had carried on for years was a thing of the past. Money meant
+freedom, freedom to live ... and to love.
+
+She stretched her hands out to the blaze. Was she free to love? What had
+driven Hartley Parrish to suicide? Or who? She went over in her mind her
+interview with Robin Greve in the billiard-room. He had spoken of other
+women in connection with Hartley Parrish. Had he used that knowledge to
+threaten his rival? What had Robin done after he had left her that
+afternoon with his final taunt?
+
+She felt the blood rise to her cheeks as she thought of it. Mary Trevert
+had all the pride of her ancient race. The recollection of that taunt
+galled her. Her loyalty to the man from whom she had received nothing
+but chivalry, whose fortune was to banish a hideous nightmare from her
+life, rose up in arms. What had Robin done? She must know the truth ...
+
+A tap came at the door. Bude appeared.
+
+"I think you rang, Miss," he said in his quiet, deep voice. "I was with
+the Inspector, Miss, and I couldn't come before. Was there anything?..."
+
+The girl turned in her chair.
+
+"Come in and shut the door, Bude," she said. "I want to speak to you."
+
+The butler obeyed and came over to where she sat. He seemed ill at ease
+and rather apprehensive.
+
+"Bude," said the girl, "I want you to tell me why you were certain that
+Mr. Greve was going to Mr. Parrish in the library when he passed you in
+the hall this afternoon!"
+
+The butler smoothed his hands down his trousers in embarrassment.
+
+"I thought he ... Mr. Greve ... would be sure to be going to fetch Mr.
+Parrish in to tea, Miss ..." he replied, eyeing the girl anxiously.
+
+Mary Trevert continued gazing into the fire.
+
+"You know it is a rule in this house, Bude," she said, "that Mr. Parrish
+is never disturbed in the library ..."
+
+The butler changed his position uneasily.
+
+"Yes, Miss, but I thought ..."
+
+Slowly Mary Trevert turned and looked at the man.
+
+"Bude,"--her voice was very calm,--"I want you to tell me the truth. You
+know that Mr. Greve went in to Mr. Parrish ..."
+
+Bude looked uneasily about him.
+
+"Oh, Miss," he answered, almost in a whisper, "whatever are you saying?"
+
+"I want your answer, Bude," the girl said coldly.
+
+Bude did not speak. He rubbed his hands up and down his trousers in
+desperation.
+
+"I wish to know why Mr. Parrish did this thing, Bude. I mean to know.
+And I think you are keeping something back!"
+
+The challenge resounded clearly, firmly.
+
+"Miss Trevert, ma'am," the butler said in a low voice, "I wouldn't take
+it upon me to say anything as would get anybody in this house into
+trouble...."
+
+"You saw Mr. Greve go into Mr. Parrish?"
+
+The butler raised his hands in a quick gesture of denial.
+
+"God forbid, Miss!" he ejaculated in horror.
+
+"What, then, do you know that is likely to get anybody here into
+trouble?"
+
+The butler hesitated an instant. Then he spoke.
+
+"That Inspector Humphries has been asking me questions, Miss, in a
+nasty, suspicious sort o' way. I told him, what I told him already, that
+just after I'd done serving the tea Mr. Greve crossed the hall and went
+down the library corridor...."
+
+"You didn't tell him everything, Bude?"
+
+The butler took a step nearer.
+
+"Oh, Miss," he said, lowering his voice, "if you'll pardon my frankness,
+but I know as how you and Mr. Greve are old friends, and I wouldn't
+take it upon me to tell the police anything as might ..."
+
+Mary Trevert stood up and faced the man.
+
+"Bude," said she, "Mr. Parrish was your master, a kind and generous
+master as he was kind and generous to every one in this house. We must
+clear up the mystery of his ... of his death. Neither you nor I nor Mr.
+Greve nor anybody must stand in the way. Now, tell me the truth!"
+
+She dropped back into her chair. She gave the order imperiously like the
+mistress of the house. The butler, trained through life to receive
+orders, surrendered.
+
+"There's nothing much to tell, Miss. When Mr. Humphries asked me if I
+were the last person to see Mr. Parrish alive, I made sure that Mr.
+Greve would say he had been in to tell him tea was ready. But Mr. Greve,
+who heard the Inspector's question and my answer, said nothing. So I
+thought, maybe, he had his reasons and I did not feel exactly as how it
+was my place ..."
+
+Mary Trevert tapped with her foot impatiently.
+
+"But what grounds have you for saying that Mr. Greve went in to Mr.
+Parrish? Mr. Greve declared quite positively that he went out by the
+side door and did not go into the library at all."
+
+"But, Miss, I heard him speaking to Mr. Parrish ..."
+
+The girl turned round and the man saw fear in her wide-open eyes.
+
+The butler put his hand on the back of her chair and leaned forward.
+
+"Better leave things where they are, Miss," he said in a low voice. "Mr.
+Parrish, I dare say, had his reasons. He's gone to his last account now.
+What does it matter why he done it ..."
+
+The man was agitated, and in his emotion his carefully studied English
+was forsaking him.
+
+But the girl broke in incisively.
+
+"Please explain what you mean!" she commanded.
+
+"Why, Miss," replied the butler, "we know that Mr. Greve had no call to
+like Mr. Parrish seeing how things were between you and the master ..."
+
+"You mean the servants know that Mr. Parrish and I were engaged ..."
+
+Bude made a deprecatory gesture.
+
+"Know, Miss? I wouldn't go so far as to say 'know.' But there has been
+some talk in the servants' 'all, Miss. You know what young female
+servants are, Miss ..."
+
+"And you think that Mr. Greve went to Mr. Parrish to talk about ... me?"
+
+Mary Trevert's voice faltered a little. She looked eagerly at the
+other's fat, smooth face.
+
+"I presoomed as much, Miss, I must confess!"
+
+"But what did you hear Mr. Greve say?"
+
+"I heard nothing, Miss, except just only the sound of voices. After Mr.
+Greve had crossed me in the hall, I took the salver I was carrying into
+the butler's pantry. I stayed there a minute or two, and then I
+remembered I had not collected the letters from the box in the hall for
+the chauffeur to take to the post, the same as he does every evening. I
+went back to the hall, and just as I opened the green baize door I heard
+voices from the library ..."
+
+"Was it Mr. Greve's voice?"
+
+"I cannot say, Miss. It was just the sound of voices, rather loud-like.
+I caught the sound because the door leading from the hall to the library
+corridor was ajar. Mr. Greve must have forgotten to shut it."
+
+"What did you do?"
+
+"Well, Miss, I closed the corridor door ..."
+
+"Why did you do that?"
+
+"Well, Miss, seeing the voices sounded angry-like, I thought perhaps it
+would be better not to let any one else hear.... And Mr. Greve looked
+upset-like when he passed me. He gave me quite a turn, he did, when I
+saw his face under the hall lamp...."
+
+"Did you stay there ... and listen?"
+
+Bude drew himself up.
+
+"That is not my 'abit, Miss, not 'ere nor in hany of the 'ouses where I
+'ave seen service...."
+
+The butler broke off. The _h_'s were too much for him in his
+indignation.
+
+"I didn't mean to suggest anything underhand," the girl said quickly. "I
+mean, did you hear any more?"
+
+"No, Miss. I emptied the letter-box and took the letters to the
+servants' hall."
+
+"But," said Mary in a puzzled way, "why do you say it was Mr. Greve if
+you didn't hear his voice?"
+
+Bude spread out his hands in bewilderment.
+
+"Who else should it have been, Miss? Sir Horace and the doctor were in
+the lounge at tea. Jay and Robert were in the servants' hall. It could
+have been nobody else...."
+
+The girl's head sank slowly on her breast. She was silent. The butler
+shifted his position.
+
+"Was there anything more, Miss?" he asked after a little while.
+
+"There is nothing further, thank you, Bude," replied Mary. "About Mr.
+Greve, I am sure there must be some mistake. He cannot have understood
+Mr. Humphries's question. I'll ask him about it when I see him. I don't
+think I should say anything to the Inspector about it, at any rate, not
+until I've seen Mr. Greve. He'll probably speak to you about it
+himself...."
+
+Bude made a motion as though he were going to say something. Then
+apparently he thought better of it, for he made a little formal bow and
+in his usual slow and dignified manner made his exit from the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+ROBIN GOES TO MARY
+
+The house telephone, standing on the long and gracefully designed desk
+with its elaborately lacquered top, whirred. Mary started from her
+reverie in her chair by the fire. By the clock on the mantelshelf she
+saw that it was a quarter past eight. She remembered that once her
+mother had knocked at her door and bidden her come down to dinner. She
+had refused the invitation, declining to unlock the door.
+
+She lifted the receiver.
+
+"That you, Mary?"
+
+Robin was speaking.
+
+"May I come up and see you? Or would you rather be left alone?"
+
+His firm, pleasant voice greatly comforted her. Only then she realized
+how greatly she craved sympathy. But the recollection of Bude's story
+suddenly interposed itself like a barrier between them.
+
+"Yes, come up," she said, "I want to speak to you!"
+
+Her voice was dispirited,
+
+"I don't want to see him," she told herself as she replaced the
+receiver, got up, and unlocked the door, "but I must _know_!"
+
+A gentle tap came at the door. Robin came in quickly and crossed to
+where she stood by the fire.
+
+"My dear!" he said and put out his two hands.
+
+Her hands were behind her back, the fingers nervously intertwining. She
+kept them there and made no sign that she had observed his gesture.
+
+He looked at her in surprise.
+
+"This has been terrible for you, Mary," he said. "I wish to God I could
+make you realize how very, very much I feel for you in what you must be
+going through...."
+
+The phrase was formal and he brought it out irresolutely, chilled as he
+was by her reception. She was looking at him dispassionately, her
+forehead a little puckered, her eyes a trifle hard.
+
+"Won't you sit down," she said. "There is something I wanted to say!"
+
+He was looking at her now in a puzzled fashion. With rather feigned
+deliberation he chose a chair and sat down facing the fire. A lamp on
+the mantelpiece--the only light in the room--threw its rays on his face.
+His chin was set rather more squarely than his wont and his eyes were
+shining.
+
+"Mary,"--he leant forward towards her,--"please forget what I said this
+afternoon. It was beastly of me, but I hardly knew what I was
+doing...."
+
+She made a little gesture as if to wave his apology aside. Then, with
+her hands clasped in front of her, scanning the nails, she asked, almost
+casually:
+
+"What did you say to Hartley Parrish in the library this afternoon?"
+
+Robin stared at her in amazement.
+
+"But I was not in the library!" he answered.
+
+The girl dropped her hands sharply to her side.
+
+"Don't quibble with me, Robin," she said. "What did you say to Hartley
+Parrish after you left me this afternoon in the billiard-room?"
+
+He was still staring at her, but now there was a deep furrow between his
+brows. He was breathing rather hard.
+
+"I did not speak to Parrish at all after I left you."
+
+His answer was curt and incisive.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," Mary said, "that, after you left me and went
+down the corridor towards the library, you neither went in to Hartley
+nor spoke to him!"
+
+"I do!"
+
+"Then how do you account for the fact that, almost immediately after you
+had crossed Bude in the hall, he heard the sound of voices in the
+library?"
+
+Robin Greve stood up abruptly.
+
+"Bude, you say, makes this statement?"
+
+"Certainly!"
+
+"To whom, may I ask?"
+
+He spoke sharply and there was a challenging ring in his voice. It
+nettled the girl.
+
+"Only to me," she said quickly, and added: "You needn't think he has
+told the police!"
+
+Very deliberately Robin plucked his handkerchief from his sleeve, wiped
+his lips, and replaced it. The girl saw that his hands were trembling.
+
+"Why do you say that to me?" he demanded rather fiercely.
+
+Mary Trevert shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"This afternoon," she said, "when I told you of my engagement to
+Hartley, you began by abusing him to me, you rushed from the room making
+straight for the library where we all know that Hartley was working, and
+a few minutes after Bude hears voices raised in anger proceeding from
+there. The next thing we know is that Hartley has ..."
+
+She broke off and looked away.
+
+"Mary,"--Robin's voice was grave, and he had mastered all signs of
+irritation,--"you and I have known one another all our lives. You ought
+to know me well enough by now to understand that I don't tell you lies.
+When I say I haven't seen or spoken to Hartley Parrish since lunch this
+afternoon, that is the truth!"
+
+"How can it be the truth?" the girl insisted. "Horace and Dr. Romain
+were both in the lounge-hall, Bude was in the hall, the other
+menservants were in the servants' hall. You are the only man in the
+house not accounted for, and a minute before Bude heard these voices you
+go down the corridor towards the library. I can understand you wanting
+to keep it from the police, but why do you want to deceive _me_?"
+
+"Mary," answered the young man sternly, "I know you're upset, but that's
+no justification for persisting in this stupid charge against me. I tell
+you I never saw Parrish or spoke to him, either, between lunch and when
+I saw him lying dead in the library. I am not going to repeat the
+denial. But you may as well understand now that I am not in the habit of
+allowing my friends to doubt my word!"
+
+Mary flamed up at his tone.
+
+"If you are my friend," she cried, "why can't you trust me? Why should I
+find this out from Bude? Why should I be humiliated by hearing from the
+butler that he kept this evidence from the police in order to please me
+because you and I are friends? I am only trying to help you, to shield
+you ..."
+
+"That will do, Mary," he said. "No, you must hear what I have to say. If
+you insist on disbelieving me, you must. But I don't want you to help
+me. I don't want you to shield me. I shall make it my business to see
+that Bude's evidence is brought before the detective inspector from
+Scotland Yard who is being brought down here to handle the case ..."
+
+"A detective from Scotland Yard?" the girl repeated.
+
+"Yes, a detective. Humphries is puzzled by several points about this
+case and has asked for assistance from London. He is right. Neither the
+circumstances of Parrish's death nor the motive of his act are clear.
+Bude's evidence is sufficient proof that somebody did gain access to the
+library this afternoon. In that case...."
+
+"Yes...."
+
+"In that case," said Greve slowly, "it may not be suicide...."
+
+Mary put one hand suddenly to her face as women do when they are
+frightened. She shrank back.
+
+"You mean...."
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Murder!"
+
+The girl gave a little gasp. Then she stretched out her hand and
+touched his arm.
+
+"But, Robin," she spoke in quick gasps,--"you can't give the police this
+evidence of Bude's. Don't you see it incriminates _you?_ Don't you
+realize that every scrap of evidence points to you as being the man that
+visited Mr. Parrish in the library this afternoon? You're a lawyer,
+Robin. You understand these things. Don't you see what I mean?"
+
+He nodded curtly.
+
+"Perfectly," he replied coldly.
+
+"Bude will do what I tell him," the girl hurried on. "There is no need
+for the police to know...."
+
+"On the contrary," said the other imperturbably, "it is essential they
+should be told at once."
+
+The girl grasped the lapels of his coat in her two hands. Her breath
+came quickly and she trembled all over.
+
+"Are you mad, Robin?" she cried. "Who could have wanted to kill poor
+Hartley? Why should you put these ideas into the heads of the police?
+Bude may have imagined everything. Now, you'll be sensible, promise
+me...."
+
+Very gently he detached the two slim hands that held his coat. His mouth
+was set in a firm line.
+
+"We are going to sift this thing to the bottom, Mary," he said, "no
+matter what are the consequences. You owe it to Parrish and you owe it
+to me...."
+
+The telephone trilled suddenly.
+
+Robin picked up the receiver,
+
+"Yes, Bude," he said.
+
+There was a moment's silence in the room broken as the clock on the
+mantelpiece chimed nine times. Then Robin said into the telephone:
+
+"Right! Tell him I'll be down immediately!"
+
+He put down the receiver and turned to Mary.
+
+"A detective inspector has arrived from London. He is asking to see me.
+I must go downstairs."
+
+Mary, her elbows on the mantelpiece, was staring into the fire. At the
+sound of his voice she swung round quickly.
+
+"Robin!" she cried.
+
+But she spoke too late.
+
+Robin Greve had left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+MR. MANDERTON
+
+A quality which had gone far to lay the foundations of the name which
+Robin Greve was rapidly making at the bar was his strong intuitive
+sense. He had the rare ability of correctly 'sensing' an atmosphere, an
+uncanny _flair_ for driving instantly at the heart of a situation, which
+rendered him in the courts a dexterous advocate and a redoubtable
+opponent.
+
+Now, as he came into the lounge from the big oak staircase, he instantly
+realized that he had entered an unfriendly atmosphere. The concealed
+lights which were set all round the cornice of the room were turned on,
+flooding the pleasantly snug room with soft reflected light. A little
+group stood about the fire, Bude, Jay, Hartley Parrish's man, and a
+stranger. Jay was engaged in earnest conversation with the stranger. But
+at the sound of Greve's foot upon the staircase, the conversation ceased
+and a silence fell on the group.
+
+Greve's attention was immediately attracted towards the stranger, whom
+he surmised to be the detective from Scotland Yard. He was a big, burly
+man with a heavy dark moustache, straight and rather thin black hair,
+and coarse features. He looked a full-blooded, plethoric person with
+reddish-blue veins on his florid face, and a heavy jowl which
+over-feeding, Robin surmised, had made fullish. He was very neatly
+dressed in his black overcoat with velvet collar carefully brushed, his
+natty black tie with its pearl pin, and well-polished boots. His black
+bowler hat, with a pair of heavy dogskin gloves, neatly folded, lay on
+the table.
+
+"This Mr. Greve?"
+
+Bude and Jay fell back as Robin joined the group. The detective bent his
+gaze on the young barrister as he put his question, and Robin for the
+first time noticed his eyes. Keen and clear, they were ill-suited, he
+thought, to the rather gross features of the man. By right he should
+have had either the small and roguish or the pale and expressionless
+eyes which are habitually found in individuals of the sanguine
+temperament.
+
+The detective had a trick of dropping his eyes to his boots. When he
+raised them, the effect was to alter his whole expression. His eyes,
+well-open, keenly observant, in perpetual motion, lent an air of
+alertness, of shrewdness, to his heavy, florid countenance.
+
+"That is my name," said Robin, answering his question. "I am a
+barrister. I have met some of your people at the Yard, but I don't
+think...."
+
+"Detective-Inspector Manderton," interjected the big man, and paused as
+though to say, "Let that sink in!"
+
+Robin knew him well by repute. His qualities were those of the bull-dog,
+slow-moving, obstinately brave, and desperately tenacious. His was a
+name to conjure with among the criminal classes, and his career was
+starred with various sensational tussles with desperate criminals, for
+Detective-Inspector Manderton, when engaged on a case, invariably "took
+a hand himself," as he phrased it, when an arrest was to be made. A
+bullet-hole in his right thigh and an imperfectly knitted right
+collar-bone remained to remind him of this propensity of his. His motto,
+as he was fond of saying, was, "What I have I hold!"
+
+"Well, Mr. Greve," said the detective in a loud, hectoring voice,
+"perhaps you will be good enough to tell me what you know of this
+affair?"
+
+Robin flushed angrily at the man's manner. But there was no trace of
+resentment in his voice as he replied. He told Manderton what he had
+already told Humphries: how he had gone from the billiard-room across
+the hall and down the library corridor to the side-door into the
+grounds, intending to have a stroll before tea, but, finding that it
+was threatening rain, had returned to the house by the front door.
+
+The detective scanned the young man's face closely as he spoke. When
+Robin had finished, the other dropped his eyes and seemed to be
+examining the brilliant polish of his boots. He said nothing, and again
+Robin became aware of the atmosphere of hostility towards him which this
+man radiated.
+
+"It is dark at five o'clock?"
+
+Manderton turned to Bude.
+
+"Getting on that way, sir," the butler agreed.
+
+"Are you in the habit, sir,"--the detective turned to Robin now,--"of
+going out for walks in the dark?"
+
+Greve shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I had been sitting in the billiard-room. It was rather stuffy, so I
+thought I'd like some air before tea!"
+
+"You left Miss Trevert in the billiard-room?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+Greve put a hand to his throat and eased his collar.
+
+"The gong had sounded for tea," the detective went on imperturbably;
+"surely it would have been more natural for you to have brought Miss
+Trevert with you?"
+
+"I didn't wish to!"
+
+Mr. Manderton cleared his throat.
+
+"Ah!" he grunted. "You didn't wish to. I should like you to be frank
+with me, Mr. Greve, please. Was it not a fact that you and Miss Trevert
+had words?"
+
+He looked up sharply at him with contracted pupils.
+
+"You took a certain interest in this young lady?"
+
+"Mr. Manderton,"--Robin spoke with a certain _hauteur_,--"don't you
+think we might leave Miss Trevert's name out of this?"
+
+"Mr. Greve," replied the detective bluntly, "I don't!"
+
+Robin made a little gesture of resignation.
+
+"Before the servants...."
+
+"Come, come, sir," the detective broke in, "with all respect to the
+young lady and yourself, it was a matter of common knowledge in the
+house that she and you were ... well, old friends. It was remarked, Mr.
+Greve, I may remind you, that you looked very upset-like when you left
+the billiard-room to"--he paused perceptibly--"to go for your stroll in
+the dark."
+
+Robin glanced quickly round the group. Jay averted his eyes. As for
+Bude, he was the picture of embarrassment.
+
+"You seem to be singularly well posted in the gossip of the servants'
+hall, Mr. Manderton!" said Robin hotly.
+
+It was a foolish remark, and Robin regretted it the moment the words had
+left his mouth.
+
+"Well, yes," commented the detective slowly, "I am. I shall be well
+posted on the whole of this case, presently, I hope, sir!"
+
+His manner was perfectly respectful, but reserved almost to a tone of
+menace.
+
+"In that case," said Robin, "I'll tell you something you don't know, Mr.
+Manderton. Has Bude told you what he heard after I had passed him in the
+hall?"
+
+Interest flashed at once into the detective's face. He turned quickly to
+the butler. Robin felt he had scored.
+
+"What did you hear?" he said sharply.
+
+Bude looked round wildly. His large, fish-like mouth twitched, and he
+made a few feeble gestures with his hands.
+
+"It was only perhaps an idea of mine, sir," he stammered,--"just a sort
+of idea ... I dare say I was mistaken. My hearing ain't what it was,
+sir...."
+
+"Don't you try to hoodwink me," said Manderton, with sudden ferocity,
+knitting his brows and frowning at the unfortunate butler. "Come on and
+tell us what you heard. Mr. Greve knows and I mean to. Out with it!"
+
+Bude cast a reproachful glance at Robin. Then he said:
+
+"Well, sir, a minute or two after Mr. Greve had passed me, I went back
+to the hall and through the open door of the corridor leading to the
+library, I heard voices!"
+
+"Voices, eh? Did you recognize them?"
+
+"No, sir. It was just the sound of talking!"
+
+"You told Miss Trevert they were loud voices, Bude!" Robin interrupted.
+
+"Yes, sir," replied the butler, "they were loudish in a manner o'
+speaking, else I shouldn't have heard them!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+The detective rapped the question out sharply.
+
+"Why, because the library door was locked, sir!"
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"Because Miss Trevert and Dr. Romain both tried the handle and couldn't
+get in!"
+
+"Ah!" said Manderton, "you mean the door was locked _when the body was
+found!_ Now, as to these voices. Were they men's voices?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I should say so."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because they were deep-like!"
+
+"Was Mr. Hartley Parrish's voice one of them?"
+
+The butler spread out his hands.
+
+"That I couldn't say! I just heard the murmur-like, then shut the
+passage door quickly ..."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Well, sir, I thought ... I didn't want to listen...."
+
+"You thought one of the voices was Mr. Greve's, eh? Having a row with
+Mr. Parrish, eh? About the lady, isn't that right?"
+
+"Aren't you going rather too fast?" said Robin quietly.
+
+But the detective ignored him.
+
+"Come on and answer my question, my man," he said harshly. "Didn't you
+think it was Mr. Hartley Parrish and Mr. Greve here having a bit of a
+dust-up about the young lady being engaged to Mr. Parrish?"
+
+"Well, perhaps I did, but...."
+
+Like a flash the detective turned on Robin.
+
+"What do you know about this?" he demanded fiercely.
+
+"Nothing," said Greve. "As I have told you already, I did not see Mr.
+Parrish alive again after lunch, nor did I speak to him. What I would
+suggest to you now is that upon this evidence of Bude's depends the
+vitally important question of how Mr. Parrish met his death. Though he
+was found with a revolver in his hand, none of us in this house know of
+any good motive for his suicide. I put it to you that the man who can
+furnish us with this motive is the owner of the voice heard by Bude in
+conversation with Mr. Parrish, since obviously nobody other than Mr.
+Parrish and possibly this unknown person was in the library block at the
+time. And I would further remark, Mr. Manderton, that, until the bullet
+has been extracted, we do not know that Mr. Parrish killed
+_himself_..."
+
+"No," said the detective significantly, "we don't!"
+
+He had dropped his eyes to the ground now and was studying the pattern
+of the hearth-rug.
+
+"You say you heard no shot?" he suddenly asked Robin.
+
+"No!"
+
+"No one other than Miss Trevert, I gather, heard the shot?"
+
+"That is so!"
+
+Mr. Manderton consulted a slip of paper which he drew from his pocket.
+
+"Inspector Humphries," he said, "has drawn up a rough time-table of
+events leading up to Mr. Parrish's death, based on the evidence he has
+taken here this evening. You will tell me if it tallies."
+
+He read from the slip:
+
+  5 P.M. Bude sounds the gong for tea.
+
+  5.10   Mr. Greve passes Bude in the hall and goes
+         down the corridor leading to the library.
+         Mr. Greve states he went straight out by
+         the side door into the gardens.
+
+The detective looked up from his reading.
+
+"At 5.12, let us say, Bude comes back from the servants' quarters to the
+hall and hears voices from the library. He closes the passage door. Is
+that right?"
+
+Bude nodded.
+
+"It would be about two minutes after I saw Mr. Greve the first time," he
+agreed.
+
+"Very well!"
+
+The detective resumed his reading.
+
+  5.15 P.M. Miss Trevert goes to fetch Mr. Parrish
+            in to tea. She finds the library door
+            locked. Tries the handle and hears a
+            shot.
+
+5.18 (say) Miss Trevert comes into the lounge hall
+and gives the alarm.
+
+"Now, sir," said Mr. Manderton briskly, "I should like to ask you one or
+two further questions. Firstly, how long were you out on your stroll in
+the dark?"
+
+"I should think about two or three minutes."
+
+"That is to say, if you left the house by the side door at 5.10, you
+were back in the house by 5.13."
+
+"Yes, that would be right," Robin agreed.
+
+"And what did you do when you came in?"
+
+"I went up to my room to fetch a letter for the post."
+
+"Miss Trevert heard the shot fired at 5.15. Where were you at that
+time?"
+
+"In my bedroom, I should say. I was there for a few minutes as I had to
+write a cheque...."
+
+"And where is your bedroom?"
+
+"In the other wing above the billiard-room."
+
+"Hm! A pistol shot makes a great deal of noise. It seems strange that
+nobody in the house should have heard it."
+
+Here Bude interposed.
+
+"Mr. Parrish, sir, was very particular about noise. He had the library
+door and the door leading from the front hall to the library corridor
+specially felted so that he should not hear any sounds from the house
+when he was working in the library. That library wing was absolutely
+shut off from the rest of the house. It was always uncommon quiet...."
+
+But the detective, ignoring him, turned to Robin again.
+
+"I have been round the house," he said. "It does not seem to me it
+ought to take you three or even two minutes to walk from the side door
+to the front door. I should say it would be a matter of about thirty
+seconds!"
+
+"Excuse me," Robin answered quickly, "I didn't say I went straight from
+the side to the front door. I went through the gardens following the
+path that leads to the main drive. There I turned and came back to the
+front door."
+
+"And you assert that you heard nothing?"
+
+"I heard nothing."
+
+"Neither the 'loud voices' which the butler heard within two minutes of
+your leaving the house nor the shot fired five minutes later?"
+
+"I heard nothing."
+
+Mr. Manderton examined the toes of his boots carefully.
+
+"You heard nothing!" he repeated.
+
+The door opened suddenly and Dr. Romain appeared. With him was the
+village practitioner and Inspector Humphries.
+
+Dr. Redstone carried in his hand a little pad of cotton wool. He bore it
+over to the fireplace and unwrapping the lint showed a twisted fragment
+of lead lying on the bloodstained dressing.
+
+"Straight through the heart and lodged in the spine," he said. "Death
+was absolutely instantaneous."
+
+The detective picked up the bullet and scrutinized it closely.
+
+"Browning pistol ammunition," observed Humphries; "it fits the gun he
+used. There's half a dozen spare rounds in one of the drawers of his
+dressing-room upstairs."
+
+Mr. Manderton drew Inspector Humphries and Dr. Redstone into a corner of
+the room where they conversed in undertones. Bude and Jay had vanished.
+Dr. Romain turned to Robin Greve, who stood lost in a reverie, staring
+into the fire.
+
+"A clear case of suicide," he said. "The medical evidence is conclusive
+on that point. A most amazing affair. I can't conceive what drove him to
+it. Why _did_ he do it?"
+
+"Ah! why?" said Robin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+A SMOKING CHIMNEY
+
+A Red sun glowed dully through a thin mist when, on the following
+morning, Robin Greve emerged from the side door into the gardens of
+Harkings. It was a still, mild day. Moisture from the night's rain yet
+hung translucent on the black limbs of the bare trees and glistened like
+diamonds on the closely cropped turf of the lawn. In the air was a
+pleasant smell of damp earth.
+
+Robin paused an instant outside the door in the library corridor and
+inhaled the morning air greedily. He had spent a restless, fitful night.
+His sleep had been haunted by the riddle which, since the previous
+evening, had cast its shadow over the pleasant house. The mystery of
+Hartley Parrish's death obsessed him. If it was suicide,--and the
+doctors were both positive on the point--the motive eluded him utterly.
+
+His mind, trained to logical processes of reasoning by his practice of
+the law, baulked at the theory. When he thought of Hartley Parrish as he
+had seen him at luncheon on the day before, striding with his quick,
+vigorous step into the room, boyishly curious to know what the _chef_
+was giving them to eat, devouring his lunch with obvious animal
+enjoyment, brimful of energy, dominating the table with his forceful,
+eager personality....
+
+The sound of voices in the library broke in upon his thoughts. Robin
+raised his head and listened. Some one appeared to be talking in a loud
+voice ... no, not talking ... rather declaiming.
+
+Stepping quietly on the hard gravel path, Robin turned the corner of the
+house and came into view of the library window. The window-pane gaped,
+shattered where Horace Trevert had broken the glass on the previous
+evening when effecting an entrance into the room. Framed in the ragged
+outline of the splintered glass, bulked the large form of Sergeant
+Harris. He stood half turned from the window so as to catch the light on
+a copy of _The Times_ which he held in his red and freckled hands. He
+was reading aloud in stentorian tones from a leading article.
+
+"While this country," he bawled sonorously, "cannot ... in h'our
+belief ... hevade ... er ... responsibility ... er ... h'm disquieting
+sitwation ..."
+
+"Dear me!" thought Robin to himself, "what a very extraordinary morning
+pursuit for our police!"
+
+Suddenly the reading was interrupted.
+
+Robin heard the library door open. Then Manderton's voice cried:
+
+"That'll do, thank you, Sergeant!"
+
+"Did you 'ear me, sir?" asked the sergeant, who seemed very much
+relieved to be quit of his task.
+
+"Not a word!" was the reply. "But we'll try with the library door open!
+I'll go back to the hall and you start again!"
+
+A thoughtful look on his face, Robin turned quickly and, hurrying round
+the side of the house, entered by the front door. Standing by the door
+leading to the library corridor he found Manderton.
+
+The detective did not seem particularly glad to see him.
+
+"Good-morning, Inspector," said Robin affably, "you're early to work, I
+see. Having a little experiment, eh?"
+
+Manderton nodded without replying. Then the stentorian tones of Sergeant
+Harris proclaiming the views of "The Thunderer" on the Silesian
+situation rolled down the corridor and struck distinctly on the ears of
+the listeners in the hall.
+
+Presently Manderton closed the corridor door, shutting off the sound
+abruptly.
+
+"I think you said you could not hear the sergeant with the library door
+shut?" queried Robin suavely.
+
+"With the door shut--no," answered the detective shortly. "But with the
+door open ..."
+
+He broke off significantly and dropped his eyes to his boots.
+
+"Would it be troubling you," Robin struck in, "if we pushed your
+experiment one step farther?"
+
+Manderton lifted his eyes and looked at the young man, Robin met his
+gaze unflinchingly.
+
+"Well?"
+
+There was no invitation in his voice, but Robin affected to disregard
+the other's coldness.
+
+"Let the library door be shut," said Robin, "but leave the glass door
+leading into the garden open. Then give Sergeant Harris another trial at
+his reading...."
+
+The detective smiled rather condescendingly.
+
+"With the library door shut, you'll hear nothing," he remarked.
+
+"The library window is open," Robin retorted, "or rather it is as good
+as open, as one of the two big panes is smashed...."
+
+His voice vibrated with eagerness. The detective looked at him
+curiously.
+
+"Oh, try if you like," he said carelessly.
+
+Without waiting for his assent, Robin had already plucked open the
+corridor door and was halfway down the passage as the other replied. He
+was back again almost at once and, motioning the detective to silence,
+took his place at his side by the open door. Then the sound of the
+policeman's voice was heard from the corridor. It was muffled and
+indistinct so that the sense of his words could not be made out. But the
+voice was audible enough.
+
+Robin turned to the detective.
+
+"Bude could make out no words," he said.
+
+"But how do we know that the glass door was open?" queried the detective
+sceptically.
+
+"Because I left it open myself," Robin countered promptly, "when I went
+out for my walk before tea. Sir Horace told me that he found the door
+banging about in the wind when he went out lo get into the library by
+the window."
+
+Mr. Manderton allowed his fat, serious face to expand very slowly into a
+broad, superior smile.
+
+"Doesn't it seem a little curious," he said, "that Mr. Hartley Parrish
+should choose to sit and work in the library on a gusty and dark winter
+evening with the window wide open? You'll allow, I think, that the
+window was not broken until after his death ..."
+
+Robin's nerves were ragged. The man's tone nettled him exceedingly. But
+he confined himself to making a little gesture of impatience.
+
+"No, no, sir," said Mr. Manderton, very decidedly, "I prefer to think
+that the library door was open, left open by the party who went in to
+speak to Mr. Parrish yesterday afternoon ... and who knows more about
+the gentleman's suicide than he would have people think ..."
+
+Robin boiled over fairly at this.
+
+"Good God, man!" he exclaimed, "do you accept this theory of suicide as
+blandly as all that? Have you examined the body? Don't you use your
+eyes? I tell you ... bah, what's the use? I'm not here to do your work
+for you!..."
+
+"No, sir," said the detective, quite unruffled, "you are not. And I
+think I'll continue to see about it myself!"
+
+With that he opened the corridor door and vanished down the passage.
+
+With great deliberation Robin selected a cigarette from his case, lit
+it, and walked out through the front door into the fresh air again. More
+than ever he felt the riddle of Hartley Parrish's death weighing upon
+his mind.
+
+His intuitive sense rebelled against the theory of suicide, despite the
+medical evidence, despite the revolver in the dead man's hand, despite
+the detective's assurance. And floating about in his brain, like the
+gossamer on the glistening bushes in the gardens, were broken threads of
+vague suspicions, of half-formed theories, leading from his hasty
+observations in the death chamber ...
+
+In itself the death of Hartley Parrish left him cold. Yes, he must admit
+that. But the look in Mary Trevert's eyes, as she had urged him to
+shield himself from the suspicion of having driven Hartley Parrish to
+his death, haunted him. Already dimly he was beginning to realize that
+Hartley Parrish in death might prove as insuperable a bar between him
+and Mary Trevert as ever he had been in life ...
+
+She was now a wealthy woman. Hartley Parrish's will had ensured that, he
+knew. But it was not the barrier of riches that Robin Greve feared. He
+had asked Mary Trevert to be his wife before there was any thought of
+her inheriting Parrish's fortune. He derived a little consolation from
+that reflection. At least he could not appear as a fortune-hunter in her
+eyes. But, until he could clear himself of the suspicion lurking in Mary
+Trevert's mind that he, Robin Greve, was in some way implicated in
+Hartley Parrish's death, the dead man, he felt, would always stand
+between them. And so ...
+
+Robin pitched the stump of his cigarette into a rose bush with a little
+gesture of resignation. Almost without knowing it, he had strolled into
+the rosery up a shallow flight of steps cut into the bank of green
+turf, which ran along the side of the house facing the library window to
+the corner of the house where it met the clipped box-hedge of the
+Pleasure Ground.
+
+The rosery was a pleasant rectangle framed in a sort of rustic bower
+which in the summer was covered with superb roses of every hue and
+variety. Gravel paths intersected rose-beds cut into all manner of
+fantastic shapes where stood the slender shoots of the young rose-trees
+each with its tag setting forth its kind, for Hartley Parrish had been
+an enthusiastic amateur in this direction.
+
+Robin turned round and faced the house. From his elevation he could look
+down into the library through the window with its shattered pane. He
+could see the gleaming polish on Hartley Parrish's big desk and the
+great arm-chair pushed back as Hartley Parrish had pushed it from him
+just before his death.
+
+The bare poles of the woodwork festooned with the black arms of the
+creeping roses, standing out dark in the fast falling winter evening,
+must, he reflected, have been the last view that Hartley Parrish had had
+before ...
+
+But then he broke off his meditations abruptly. His eye had fallen on a
+narrow white patch standing out on one of the uprights supporting the
+clambering roses.
+
+It was a stout young tree, the light brown bark left adhering to its
+surface. It was a long blaze on the bark on the side of the trunk which
+had caught his eye. Robin walked round the gravel path until he was
+within a foot of the pole to get a better view.
+
+The pole stood almost exactly opposite the library window. The scar in
+the bark was high up and diagonal and quite freshly made, for the wood
+was dead white and much splintered.
+
+The young man put a hand on the upright for support and leant forward,
+carefully refraining from putting his foot on the soft brown mould of
+the flower-bed which fringed the path between it and the rustic
+woodwork. Then he ran lightly down the steps until he stood with his
+back to the library window. From here he carefully surveyed the upright
+again, then, returning to the rosery, began a careful scrutiny of the
+gravel paths and the beds.
+
+Apparently his search gave little result, for he presently abandoned it
+and turned his attention to the wooden framework on the other side of
+the rectangular rose-garden. He plunged boldly in among the rose-bushes
+and examined each upright in turn. He spent about half an hour in this
+meticulous investigation, and then, his boots covered with mould, his
+rough shooting-coat glistening with moisture, he walked slowly down the
+steps and reentered the house.
+
+As he was wiping the mud off his boots on the great mat in the front
+hall, Bude came out of the lounge hall with a pile of dishes on a tray.
+
+"Bude," said Robin, "can you tell me if the fire in the library has been
+smoking of late?"
+
+"Well, sir," replied the butler, "we've always had trouble with that
+chimdy when the wind's in the southwest."
+
+"Has it been smoking lately?" The young man reiterated his question
+impatiently.
+
+The man looked up in surprise.
+
+"Well, sir, now you come to mention it, it has. As a matter o'fact, sir,
+the sweep was ordered for to-day ..."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Well, sir, Mr. Parrish had mentioned it to me ..."
+
+"When?"
+
+The question came out like a pistol shot.
+
+"Yesterday, sir," answered the butler blandly. "Just before luncheon, it
+was, sir. Mr. Parrish told me to have that chimdy seen to at once. And I
+telephoned for the sweep immediately after luncheon, sir ..."
+
+"Did Mr. Parrish say anything else, Bude?"
+
+Robin eagerly scanned the butler's fat, unimpressive countenance. Bude,
+his tray held out stiffly in front of him, contracted his bushy eyebrows
+in thought.
+
+"I don't know as he did, sir ..."
+
+"Think, man, think!" Robin urged.
+
+"Well, sir," said Bude, unmoved, "I believe, now I come to think of it,
+that Mr. Parrish did say something about the wind blowing his papers
+about ..."
+
+"That is to say, he had been working with the window open?"
+
+Robin Greve's question rang out sharply. It was an affirmation more than
+a question.
+
+"Yes, sir, leastways I suppose so, sir ..."
+
+"Which window?"
+
+"Why, the one Mr. Parrish always liked to have open in the warm weather,
+sir, ... the one opposite the desk. The other window was never opened,
+sir, because of the dictaphone as stands in front of it. The damp
+affects the mechanism ..."
+
+"Thank you, Bude," said the young man.
+
+With his accustomed majesty the butler wheeled to go. In the turn of his
+head as he moved there was a faint suggestion of a shake ... a shake of
+uncomprehending pity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+"... SPEED THE PARTING GUEST!"
+
+Dr. Romain was just finishing his breakfast as Robin Greve entered the
+dining-room, a cosy oak-panelled room with a bow window fitted with
+cushioned window-seats. Horace Trevert stood with his back to the fire.
+There was no sign of either Lady Margaret or of Mary. Silence seemed to
+fall on both the doctor and his companion as Robin came in. They wore
+that rather abashed look which people unconsciously assume when they
+break off a conversation on an unexpected entry.
+
+"Morning, Horace! Morning, Doctor!" said Robin, crossing to the
+sideboard. "Any sign of Lady Margaret or Mary yet?"
+
+The doctor had risen hastily to his feet.
+
+"I rather think Dr. Redstone is expecting me," he said rapidly; "I half
+promised to go over to Stevenish ... think I'll just run over. The
+walk'll do me good ..."
+
+He looked rather wildly about him, then fairly bolted from the room.
+
+Robin, the cover of the porridge dish in his hand, turned and stared at
+him.
+
+"Why, whatever's the matter with Romain?" he began.
+
+But Horace, who had not spoken a word, was himself halfway to the door.
+
+"Horace!" called out Robin sharply.
+
+The boy stopped with his back towards the other. But he did not turn
+round.
+
+Robin put the cover back on the porridge dish and crossed the room.
+
+"You all seem in the deuce of a hurry this morning ..." he said.
+
+Still the boy made no reply.
+
+"Why, Horace, what's the matter?"
+
+Robin put his hand on young Trevert's shoulder. Horace shook him roughly
+off.
+
+"I don't care to discuss it with you, Robin!" he said.
+
+Robin deliberately swung the boy round until he faced him.
+
+"My dear old thing," he expostulated. "What does it all mean? _What_
+won't you discuss with me?"
+
+Horace Trevert looked straight at the speaker. His upper lip was pouted
+and trembled a little.
+
+"What's the use of talking?" he said. "You know what I mean. Or would
+you like me to be plainer ..."
+
+Robin met his gaze unflinchingly.
+
+"I certainly would," he said, "if it's going to enlighten me as to why
+you should suddenly choose to behave like a lunatic ..."
+
+Horace Trevert leant back and thrust his hands into his pockets.
+
+"After what happened here yesterday," he said, speaking very clearly and
+deliberately, "I wonder you have the nerve to stay ..."
+
+"My dear Horace," said Kobin quite impassively, "would you mind being a
+little more explicit? What precisely are you accusing me of? What have I
+done?"
+
+"Done?" exclaimed the young man heatedly. "Done? Good God! Don't you
+realize that you have dragged my sister into this wretched business?
+Don't you understand that her name will be bandied about before a lot of
+rotten yokels at the inquest?"
+
+Robin Greve's eyes glittered dangerously.
+
+"I confess," he said, with elaborate politeness, "I scarcely understand
+what it has to do with me that Hartley Parrish should apparently commit
+suicide within a few days of becoming engaged to your sister ..."
+
+"Ha!"
+
+Horace Trevert snorted indignantly.
+
+"You don't understand, don't you? We don't understand either. But, I
+must say, we thought _you_ did!"
+
+With that he turned to go. But Robin caught him by the arm.
+
+"Listen to me, Horace," he said. "I'm not going to quarrel with you in
+this house of death. But you're going to tell here and now what you
+meant by that remark. Do you understand? I'm going to know!"
+
+Horace Trevert shook himself free.
+
+"Certainly you shall know," he answered with _hauteur_, "but I must say
+I should have thought that, as a lawyer and so on, you would have
+guessed my meaning without my having to explain. What I mean is that,
+now that Hartley Parrish is dead, there is only one man who knows what
+drove him to his death. And that's yourself! Do you want it plainer than
+that?"
+
+Robin took a step back and looked at his friend. But he did not speak.
+
+"And now," the boy continued, "perhaps you will realize that your
+presence here is disagreeable to Mary ..."
+
+"Did Mary ask you to tell me this?" Robin broke in.
+
+His voice had lost its hardness. It was almost wistful. The change of
+tone was so marked that it struck Horace. He hesitated an instant.
+
+"Yes," he blurted out. "She doesn't want to see you again. I don't want
+to be offensive, Robin.."
+
+"Please don't apologize," said Greve. "I quite understand that this is
+your sister's house now and, of course, I shall leave at once. I'll ask
+Jay to pack my things if you could order the car ..."
+
+The boy moved towards the door. Before he reached it Robin called him
+back.
+
+"Horace," he said pleasantly, "before you go I want you to answer me a
+question. Think before you speak, because it's very important. When you
+got into the library yesterday evening through the window, you smashed
+the glass, didn't you?"
+
+Horace Trevert nodded.
+
+"Yes," he replied, looking hard at Robin.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"To get into the room, of course!"
+
+"Was the window bolted?"
+
+The boy stopped and thought.
+
+"No," he said slowly, "now I come to think of it, I don't believe it
+was. No, of course, it wasn't. I just put my arm through the broken pane
+and shoved the window up. But why do you ask?"
+
+"Oh, nothing," answered Robin nonchalantly. "I just was curious to know,
+that's all!"
+
+Horace stood and looked at him for an instant. Then he went out.
+
+A quarter of an hour later, Hartley Parrish's Rolls-Royce glided through
+the straggling main street of Stevenish. A chapel bell tinkled
+unmusically, and on the pavements, gleaming with wet, went a procession
+of neatly dressed townsfolk bound, prayer-book in hand, for their
+respective places of worship. A newsboy, sorting out the Sunday
+newspapers which had just come down by train from London, was the only
+figure visible on the little station platform. Kobin bought a selection.
+
+"There's all about Mr. Parrish," said the boy, "'im as they found dead
+up at 'Arkings las' night. And the noospapers 'asn't 'arf been sendin'
+down to-day ... reporters and photographers ... you oughter seen the
+crowd as come by the mornin' train ..."
+
+"I wonder what they'll get out of Manderton," commented Robin rather
+grimly to himself as his train puffed leisurely, after the habit of
+Sunday trains, into the quiet little station.
+
+In the solitude of his first-class smoker he unfolded the newspapers.
+None had more than the brief fact that Hartley Parrish had been found
+dead with a pistol in his hand, but they made up for the briefness of
+their reports by long accounts of the dead man's "meteoric career."
+And, Robin noted with relief, hitherto Mary Trevert's name was out of
+the picture.
+
+He dropped the papers on to the seat, and, as the train steamed serenely
+through the Sunday calm of the country towards London's outer suburbs,
+he reviewed in his mind such facts as he had gleaned regarding the
+circumstances of his late host's death.
+
+He would, he told himself, accept for the time being as _facts_ what, he
+admitted to himself, so far only seemed to be such. Hartley Parrish,
+then, had been seated in his library at his desk with the door locked.
+The fire was smoking, and therefore he had opened the window. According
+to Horace Trevert, the window had not been bolted when he had entered
+the library, for, after smashing the pane in the assumption that the
+bolt was shot, he had had no difficulty in pushing up the window.
+Hartley Parrish had opened the window himself, for on the nail of the
+middle finger of his left hand Robin had seen, with the aid of the
+magnifying-glass, a tiny fragment of white paint.
+
+Who had closed it? He had no answer ready to _that_ question.
+
+Now, as to the circumstances of the shooting. The suicide theory invited
+one to believe that Hartley Parrish had got up from his desk, pushing
+back his chair, had gone round it until he stood between the desk and
+the window, and had there shot himself through the heart. Why should he
+have done this?
+
+Robin had no answer ready to this question either. He passed on again.
+Bude had heard loud voices a very few minutes before Mary had heard the
+shot. That morning's experiments had shown that Bude could have heard
+these sounds only by way of the open window of the library and the open
+doors of the garden and the library corridor. Additional proof, if Bude
+had heard aright, that the library window was open.
+
+Leaning back in his seat, his finger-tips pressed together, Robin Greve
+resolutely faced the situation to which his deductions were leading him.
+
+"The voice heard at the open window," he told himself, "was the voice of
+the man who murdered Parrish and who closed the window, that is, of
+course, if the murder theory proves more conclusive than that of
+suicide."
+
+This brought him back to his investigations in the rosery. The abrasure
+he had discovered on the timber upright was the mark of a bullet and a
+mark freshly made at that. Moreover, it had almost certainly been fired
+from the library window--from the window which Parrish had opened; the
+angle at which it had struck and marked the tree showed that almost
+conclusively.
+
+Yet there had been but one shot! If only he had been able to find that
+bullet in the rosery! Robin thought ruefully of his long hunt among the
+sopping rose-bushes.
+
+Yes, there had been only one shot. Mary Trevert had stated it
+definitely. Besides, the bullet that had killed Hartley Parrish had been
+fired from his own revolver and had been found in the body. Robin Greve
+felt the murder theory collapsing about him. But the suicide theory did
+not stand up, either. What possible, probable motive had Hartley Parrish
+for taking his own life?
+
+"He wasn't the man to do it!"
+
+The wheels of the train took up the rhythm of the phrase and dinned it
+into his ears.
+
+"He wasn't the man to do it!"
+
+The riddle seemed more baffling than ever.
+
+Robin thrust one hand into his right-hand pocket to get his pipe, his
+other hand into his left-hand pocket to find his pouch. His left hand
+came into contact with a little ball of paper.
+
+He drew it out. It was the little ball of slatey-blue paper he had found
+on the floor of the library beside Hartley Parrish's dead body.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+MR. MANDERTON IS NONPLUSSED
+
+Horace Trevert walked abruptly into Mary's Chinese boudoir. Lady
+Margaret and the girl were standing by the fire.
+
+"Well," said Horace, dropping into a chair, "he's gone!"
+
+"Who?" said Lady Margaret.
+
+"Robin," answered the boy, "and I must say he took it very well ..."
+
+"You don't mean to tell me, Horace," said his mother, "that you have
+actually sent Robin Greve away ...?"
+
+Mary Trevert put her hand on her mother's arm.
+
+"I wished it, Mother. I asked Horace to send him away ..."
+
+"But, my dear," protested Lady Margaret.
+
+Mary interrupted her impatiently.
+
+"Robin Greve was impossible here. I had to ask him to go. I suppose he
+can come back if ... if they want him for the inquest ..."
+
+Lady Margaret was looking at her daughter in a puzzled way. She was a
+woman of the world and had brought her daughter up to be a woman of the
+world. She knew that Mary was not impulsive by nature. She knew that
+there was a wealth of good sense behind those steady eyes.
+
+In response to a look from his mother, Horace got up and left the room.
+
+"Mary, dear," said the older woman, "don't you think you are making a
+mistake?"
+
+The girl turned away, one slim shoe tapping restlessly against the brass
+rail of the fireplace.
+
+"My dear," her mother went on, "remember I have known Robin Greve all
+his life. His father, the Admiral, was a very old friend of mine. He was
+the very personification of honour. Robin is very fond of you ... no, he
+has told me nothing, but I _know_. Don't you think it is rather hard on
+an old friend to turn him away just when you most want him?"
+
+There was a heightened colour in the girl's face as she turned and
+looked her mother in the face.
+
+"Robin has not behaved like a friend, Mother," she answered. "He knows
+more than he pretends about ... about this. And he lets me find out
+things from the servants when he ought to have told me himself. If he is
+suspected of having said something to Hartley which made him do this
+dreadful thing, he has only himself to thank. I _did_ try to shield
+him--before I knew. But I'm not going to do so any more. If he stays I
+shall have the police suspecting me all the time. And I owe something
+to Hartley ..."
+
+Her mother sighed a soft little sigh. She said nothing. She was a very
+wise woman.
+
+"Robin left me to go to the library ... I am sure of that ..." Mary went
+on breathlessly.
+
+"Why?" her mother asked.
+
+The girl hesitated.
+
+Then she said slowly:
+
+"You and I have always been good pals, Mother, so I may as well tell
+you. Robin had just asked me to marry him. So I told him I was engaged
+to Hartley. He went on in the most awful way, and said that I was
+selling myself and that I would not be the first girl that Hartley had
+kept ..."
+
+She broke off and raised her hands to her face. Then she put her elbows
+on the mantel-shelf and burst into tears.
+
+"Oh, it was hateful," she sobbed.
+
+Her mother put her arm round her soothingly.
+
+"Well, my dear," she said, "Robin was always fond of you, and I dare say
+it was a shock to him. When men feel like that about a girl they
+generally say things they don't mean ..."
+
+Mary Trevert straightened herself up and dropped her hands to her side.
+She faced her mother, the tear-drops glistening on her long lashes.
+
+"He meant it, every word of it. And he was perfectly right. I _was_
+selling myself, and you know I was, Mother. Do you think we can go on
+for ever like this, living on credit and dodging tradesmen? I meant to
+marry Hartley and stick to him. But I never thought ... I never
+guessed ... that Robin ..."
+
+"I know, my dear," her mother interposed, "I know. Perhaps it doesn't
+sound a very proper thing to say in the circumstances, but now that poor
+Hartley is gone, there is no reason whatsoever why you and Robin ..."
+
+The Treverts were a hot-tempered race. Lady Margaret's unfinished
+sentence seemed to infuriate the girl.
+
+"Do you think I'd marry Robin Greve as long as I thought he knew the
+mystery of Hartley's death!" she cried passionately. "I was willing to
+give up my self-respect once to save us from ruin, but I won't do it
+again. I'm not surprised to find you thinking I am ready to marry Robin
+and live happy ever after on poor Hartley's money. But I've not sunk so
+low as that! If you ever mention this to me again, Mother, I promise you
+I'll go away and never come back!"
+
+"My dear child," temporized Lady Margaret, eyebrows raised in protest
+at this outburst, "of course, it shall be as you wish. I only
+thought ..."
+
+But Mary Trevert was not listening. She leant on the mantel-shelf, her
+dark head in her hands, and she murmured:
+
+"The tragedy of it! My God, the tragedy of it!"
+
+Lady Margaret twisted the rings on her long white fingers.
+
+"The tragedy of it, my dear," she said, "is that you have sent away the
+man you love at a time when you will never need him so badly again ..."
+
+There was a discreet tapping at the door.
+
+"Come in!" said Lady Margaret.
+
+Bude appeared.
+
+"Mr. Manderton, the detective, my lady, was wishing to know whether he
+might see Miss Trevert ..."
+
+"Yes. Ask him to come up here," commanded Lady Margaret.
+
+"He is without--in the corridor, my lady!"
+
+He stepped back and in a moment Mr. Manderton stepped into the room,
+big, burly, and determined.
+
+He made a little stiff bow to the two ladies and halted irresolute near
+the door.
+
+"You wished to see my daughter, Mr. Manderton," said Lady Margaret.
+
+The detective bowed again.
+
+"And you, too, my lady," he said. "Allow me!"
+
+He closed the door, then crossed to the fireplace.
+
+"After I had seen you and Miss Trevert last night, my lady," he began,
+"I had a talk with Mr. Jeekes, Mr. Parrish's principal secretary, who
+came down by car from London as soon as he heard the news. My lady, I
+think this is a fairly simple case!"
+
+He paused and scanned the carpet.
+
+"Mr. Jeekes tells me, my lady," he went on presently, "that Mrs Fairish
+had been suffering from neurasthenia and a weak heart brought on by too
+much smoking. It appears that he had consulted, within the last two
+months, two leading specialists of Harley Street about his health. One
+of these gentlemen, Sir Winterton Maire, ordered him to knock off all
+work and all smoking for at least three months. He will give evidence to
+this effect at the inquest. Mr. Parrish disregarded these orders as he
+was wishful to put through his scheme for Hornaway's before taking a
+rest. Mr. Jeekes can prove that. In these circumstances, my lady...."
+
+"Well?"
+
+Lady Margaret, in her black crepe de chine dress, setting off the
+silvery whiteness of her hair, was a calm, unemotional figure as she sat
+in her lacquer chair.
+
+"Well?" she asked again.
+
+"Well," said the detective, "the verdict will be one of 'Suicide whilst
+of unsound mind,' and in my opinion the medical evidence will be
+sufficient to bring that in. There will not be occasion, I fancy, my
+lady, to probe any farther into the motives of Mr. Parrish's action...."
+
+"And are you personally satisfied"--Mary's voice broke in clear and
+unimpassioned--"are you personally satisfied, Mr. Manderton, that Mr.
+Parrish shot himself?"
+
+The detective cast an appealing glance at the tips of his well-burnished
+boots.
+
+"Yes, Miss, I think I may say I am...."
+
+"And what about the evidence of Bude, who said he heard voices in the
+library...."
+
+Mr. Manderton gave his shoulders the merest suspicion of a shrug, raised
+his hands, and dropped them to his sides.
+
+"I had hoped, my lady," he said, throwing a glance at Lady Margaret,
+"and you, Miss, that I had made it clear that in the circumstances we
+need not pursue that matter any further...."
+
+Lady Margaret rose. Her dominating personality seemed to fill the room.
+
+"We are extremely obliged to you, Mr. Manderton," she said, "for the
+able and discreet way in which you have handled this case. I sometimes
+meet the Chief Commissioner at dinner. I shall write to Sir Maurice and
+tell him my opinion."
+
+Mr. Manderton reddened a little.
+
+"Your ladyship is too good," he said.
+
+Lady Margaret bowed to signify that the interview was at an end. But
+Mary Trevert left her side and walked to the door.
+
+"Will you come downstairs with me, Mr. Manderton," she said. "I should
+like to speak to you alone for a minute!"
+
+She led the way downstairs through the hall and out into the drive. A
+pale sun shone down from a grey and rainy sky, and the damp breeze
+blowing from the sodden trees played among the ringlets of her dark
+hair.
+
+"We will walk down the drive," she said to the detective, who, rather
+astonished, had followed her. "We can talk freely out of doors."
+
+They took a dozen steps in silence. Then she said:
+
+"Who was it speaking to Mr. Parrish in the library?"
+
+"Undoubtedly Mr. Greve," replied the man without hesitation.
+
+"Why undoubtedly?" asked the girl.
+
+"It could have been no one else. We know that he left you hot to get at
+Mr. Parrish and have words with him. Bude heard them talking with voices
+raised aloud...."
+
+"But if the door were locked?"
+
+"Mr. Parrish may have opened it and locked it again, Mr. Greve getting
+out by the window. But there are no traces of that ... one would look to
+find marks on the paint on the inside. Besides, a little test we made
+this morning suggests that Mr. Greve spoke to Mr. Parrish through the
+window...."
+
+"Was the window open?"
+
+"Yes, Miss, it probably was. The fire had been smoking in the library.
+Mr. Parrish had complained to Bude about it. Besides, we have found Mr.
+Parrish's finger-prints on the inside of the window-frame. Outside we
+found other finger-prints ... Sir Horace's. Sir Horace was good enough
+to allow his to be taken."
+
+The girl looked at the detective quickly.
+
+"Were there any other finger-prints except Horace's on the outside?" she
+asked.
+
+Mr. Manderton shook his head.
+
+"No, Miss," he answered.
+
+They had reached the lodge-gates at the beginning of the drive and
+turned to retrace their steps to the house.
+
+"Then we shall never know exactly why Mr. Parrish did this thing?"
+hazarded Mary.
+
+Mr. Manderton darted her a surreptitious glance.
+
+"We shall see about that," he said.
+
+There was menace in his voice.
+
+Mary Trevert stopped. She put her hand on the detective's arm.
+
+"Mr. Manderton," she said, "if you are satisfied, then, believe me, I
+am!"
+
+The detective bowed.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he said,--and he spoke perfectly respectfully though his
+words were blunt,--"I can well believe that!"
+
+The girl looked up quickly. She scanned his face rather apprehensively.
+
+"What do you mean?" she asked, "I don't understand...."
+
+"I mean," was the detective's answer, given in his quiet, level voice,
+"that when you attempted to mislead Inspector Humphries you did nobody
+any good!"
+
+The girl bent her head without replying, and in silence they regained
+the house. At the house door they parted, Mary going indoors while the
+detective remained standing on the drive. Very deliberately he produced
+a short briar pipe, cut a stub of dark plug tobacco from a flat piece he
+carried in his pocket, crammed the tobacco into his pipe, and lit it.
+Reflectively he blew a thin spiral of smoke into the still air.
+
+"_He_ told me about that fat butler's evidence," he said to himself;
+"_he_ put me wise about that window being open; _he_ gave me the office
+about the paint on the finger-nails of Mr. H.P."
+
+He ticked off each point on his fingers with the stem of his pipe.
+
+"Why?" said Mr. Manderton aloud, addressing a laurel-bush.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+JEEKES
+
+Mr. Albert Edward Jeekes, Hartley Parrish's principal private secretary,
+lunched with Lady Margaret, Mary and Horace. Dr. Romain seemed not to
+have got over his embarrassment of the morning, for he did not put in an
+appearance.
+
+Mr. Jeekes was an old young man who supported bravely the weight of his
+Christian names, a reminder of his mother having occupied some small
+post in the household of Queen Victoria the Good. He might have been any
+age between 35 and 50 with his thin sandy hair, his myopic gaze, and his
+habitual expression of worried perplexity.
+
+He was a shorthand-writer and typist of incredible dexterity and speed
+which, combined with an unquenchable energy, had recommended him to
+Hartley Parrish. Accordingly, in consideration of a salary which he
+would have been the first to describe as "princely," he had during the
+past four years devoted some fifteen hours a day to the service of Mr.
+Hartley Parrish.
+
+He was unmarried. When not on duty, either at St. James's Square,
+Harkings, or Hartley Parrish's palatial offices in Broad Street, he was
+to be found at one of those immense and gloomy clubs of indiscriminate
+membership which are dotted about the parish of St. James's, S.W., and
+to which Mr. Jeekes was in the habit of referring in Early-Victorian
+accents of respect.
+
+"When I heard the news at the club, Miss Trevert," said Jeekes, "you
+could have knocked me down with a feather. Mr. Parrish, as all of us
+knew, worked himself a great deal too hard, sometimes not knocking off
+for his tea, even, and wore his nerves all to pieces. But I never
+dreamed it would come to this. Ah! he's a great loss, and what we shall
+do without him I don't know. There was a piece in one of the papers
+about him to-day--perhaps you saw it?--it called him 'one of the
+captains of industry of modern England.'"
+
+"You were always a great help to him, Mr. Jeekes," said Mary, who was
+touched by the little man's hero-worship; "I am sure you realized that
+he appreciated you."
+
+"Well," replied Mr. Jeekes, rubbing the palms of his hands together, "he
+did a great deal for _me_. Took me out of a City office where I was
+getting two pound five a week. That's what he did. It was a shipping
+firm. I tell you this because it has a bearing, Miss Trevert, on what
+is to follow. Why did he pick me? I'll tell you.
+
+"He was passing through the front office with one of our principals when
+he asked him, just casually, what Union Pacific stood at. The boss
+didn't know.
+
+"'A hundred and eighty-seven London parity,' says I. He turned round and
+looked at me. 'How do you know that?' says he, rather surprised, this
+being in a shipping office, you understand.
+
+"'I take an interest in the markets,' I replied. 'Do you?' he says.
+'Then you might do for me,' and tells me to come and see him."
+
+"I went. He made me an offer. When I heard the figure ... my word!"
+
+Mr. Jeekes paused. Then added sadly:
+
+"And I had meant to work for him to my dying day!"
+
+They were in the billiard-room seated on the selfsame settee, Mary
+reflected, on which she and Robin had sat--how long ago it seemed,
+though only yesterday! Mary had carried the secretary off after luncheon
+in order to unfold to him a plan which she had been turning over in her
+mind ever since her conversation with the detective.
+
+"And what are you going to do now, Mr. Jeekes?" she asked.
+
+The little man pursed up his lips.
+
+"Well," he said, "I'll have to get something else, I expect. I'm not
+expecting to find anything so good as I had with Mr. Parrish. And things
+are pretty crowded in the City, Miss Trevert, what with all the boys
+back from the war, God bless 'em, and glad we are to see 'em, I'm sure.
+I hope you'll realize, Miss Trevert, that anything I can do to help to
+put Mr. Parrish's affairs straight...."
+
+"I was just about to say," Mary broke in, "that I hope you will not
+contemplate any change, Mr. Jeekes. You know more about Mr. Parrish's
+affairs than anybody else, and I shall be very glad if you will stay on
+and help me. You know I have been left sole executrix...."
+
+"Miss Trevert,"--the little man stammered in his embarrassment,--"this
+is handsome of you. I surely thought you would have wished to make your
+own arrangements, appoint your own secretaries...."
+
+Mr. Jeekes broke off and looked at her, blinking hard.
+
+"Not at all," said Mary. "Everything shall be as it was. I am sure that
+Mr. Bardy will approve. Besides, Mr. Jeekes, I want your assistance in
+something else...."
+
+"Anything in my power...." began Jeekes.
+
+"Listen," said Mary.
+
+She was all her old self-composed self now, a charming figure in her
+plain blue serge suit with a white silken shirt and black tie--the best
+approach to mourning her wardrobe could afford. Already the short winter
+afternoon was drawing in. Mysterious shadows lurked in the corners of
+the long and narrow room.
+
+"Listen," said Mary, leaning forward. "I want to know why Mr. Parrish
+killed himself. I mean to know. And I want you, Mr. Jeekes, to help me
+to find out,"
+
+Something stirred ever so faintly in the remote recesses of the
+billiard-room. A loose board or something creaked softly and was silent.
+
+"What was that?" the girl called out sharply. "Who's there?"
+
+Mr. Jeekes got up and walked over to the door. It was ajar. He closed
+it.
+
+"Just a board creaking," he said as he resumed his seat.
+
+"I want your aid in finding out the motive for this terrible
+deed,"--Mary Trevert was speaking again,--"I can't understand.... I
+don't see clear...."
+
+"Miss Trevert," said Mr. Jeekes, clearing his throat fussily, "I fear we
+must look for the motive in the state of poor Mr. Parrish's nerves. An
+uncommonly high-strung man he always was, and he smoked those long
+black strong cigars of his from morning till night. Sir Winterton Maire
+told him flatly--Mr. Parrish, I recollect, repeated his very words to me
+after Sir Winterton had examined him--that, if he did not take a
+complete rest and give up smoking, he would not be answerable for the
+consequences. Therefore, Miss Trevert...."
+
+"Mr. Jeekes," answered the girl, "I knew Mr. Parrish pretty well. A
+woman, you know, gets to the heart of a man's character very often
+quicker than his daily associates in business. And I know that Mr.
+Parrish was the last man in the world to have done a thing like that. He
+was so ... so undaunted. He made nothing of difficulties. He relied
+wholly on himself. That was the secret of his success. For him to have
+killed himself like this makes me feel convinced that there was some
+hidden reason, far stronger, far more terrible, than any question of
+nerves...."
+
+Leaning forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, Mary Trevert
+raised her dark eyes to the little secretary's face.
+
+"Many men have a secret in their lives," she said in a low voice. "Do
+you know of anything in Mr. Parrish's life which an enemy might have
+made use of to drive him to his death?"
+
+Her manner was so intense that Mr. Jeekes quite lost his
+self-composure. He clutched at his _pince-nez_ and readjusted them upon
+his nose to cover his embarrassment. The secretary was not used to
+gazing at beautiful women whose expressive features showed as clearly as
+this the play of the emotions.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he said presently, "I know of no such secret. But then
+what do I--what does any one--know of Mr. Parrish's former life?"
+
+"We might make enquiries in South Africa?" ventured the girl.
+
+"I doubt if we should learn anything much through that," said the
+secretary. "Of course, Mr. Parrish had great responsibilities and
+responsibility means worry...."
+
+A silence fell on them both. From somewhere in the dark shadows above
+the fire glowing red through the falling twilight a clock chimed once.
+There was a faint rustling from the neighborhood of the door. Mr. Jeekes
+started violently. A coal dropped noisily into the fireplace.
+
+"There was something else," said Mary, ignoring the interruption, and
+paused. She did not look up when she spoke again.
+
+"There is often a woman in cases like this," she began reluctantly.
+
+Mr. Jeekes looked extremely uncomfortable.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he said, "I beg you will not press me on that
+score...."
+
+"Why?" asked the girl bluntly.
+
+"Because ... because"--Mr. Jeekes stumbled sadly over his
+words--"because, dear me, there are some things which really I couldn't
+possibly discuss ... if you'll excuse me...."
+
+"Oh, but you can discuss everything, Mr. Jeekes," replied Mary Trevert
+composedly. "I am not a child, you know. I am perfectly well aware that
+there's a woman somewhere in the life of every man, very often two or
+three. I haven't got any illusions on the subject, I assure you. I never
+supposed for a moment that I was the first woman in Mr. Parrish's
+life...."
+
+This candour seemed to administer a knock-out blow to the little
+secretary's Victorian mind. He was speechless. He took off his
+_pince-nez_, blindly polished them with his pocket-handkerchief and
+replaced them upon his nose. His fingers trembled violently.
+
+"I have no wish to appear vulgarly curious," the girl went on,--Mr.
+Jeekes made a quick gesture of dissent,--"but I am anxious to know
+whether Mr. Parrish was being blackmailed ... or anything like that...."
+
+"Oh, no, Miss Trevert, I do assure you," the little man expostulated in
+hasty denial, "nothing like that, I am convinced. At least, that is to
+say ..."
+
+He rose to his feet, clutching the little _attache_ case which he
+invariably carried with him as a kind of emblem of office.
+
+"And now, if you'll excuse me, Miss Trevert," he muttered, "I should
+really be going. I am due at Mr. Bardy's office at five o'clock. He is
+coming up from the country specially to meet me. There is so much to
+discuss with regard to this terrible affair."
+
+He glanced at his watch.
+
+"With the roads as greasy as they are," he added, "it will take me all
+my time in the car to ..."
+
+He cast a panic-striken glance around him. But Mary Trevert held him
+fast.
+
+"You didn't finish what you were saying about Mr. Parrish, Mr. Jeekes,"
+she said impassively. The secretary made no sign. But he looked a trifle
+sullen.
+
+"I don't think you realize, Mr. Jeekes," she said, "that other people
+besides myself are keenly interested in the motives for Mr. Parrish's
+suicide. The police profess to be willing to accept the testimony of the
+specialists as satisfactory medical evidence about his state of mind.
+But I distrust that man, Manderton. He is not satisfied, Mr. Jeekes. He
+won't rest until he knows the truth."
+
+The secretary cast her a frightened glance.
+
+"But Mr. Manderton told me himself, Miss Trevert," he affirmed, "that
+the verdict would be, 'Suicide while temporarily insane,' on Sir
+Winterton Maire's evidence alone ..."
+
+Mary Trevert tapped the ground impatiently with her foot.
+
+"Manderton will get at the truth, I tell you," she said. "He's that kind
+of man. Do you want me to find out from them? At the inquest, perhaps?"
+
+The secretary put his _attache_ case down on the lounge again.
+
+"Of course, that would be most improper, Miss Trevert," he said. "But
+your question embarrasses me. It embarrasses me very much ..."
+
+"What are you keeping back from me, Mr. Jeekes?" the girl demanded
+imperiously.
+
+The secretary mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. Then, as though
+with an effort, he spoke.
+
+"There is a lady, a French lady, who draws an income from Mr. Parrish ..."
+
+The girl remained impassive, but her eyes grew rather hard.
+
+"These payments are still going on?" she asked.
+
+Jeekes hesitated. Then he nodded,
+
+"Yes," he said.
+
+"Well? Was she blackmailing ... him?"
+
+"No, no," Mr. Jeekes averred hastily. "But there was some unpleasantness
+some months ago ... er ... a county court action, to be precise, about
+some bills she owed. Mr. Parrish was very angry about it and settled to
+prevent it coming into court. But there was some talk about it ... in
+legal circles ..."
+
+He threw a rather scared glance at the girl.
+
+"Please explain yourself, Mr. Jeekes," she said coldly. "I don't
+understand ..."
+
+"Her lawyer was Le Hagen--it's a shady firm with a big criminal
+practice. They sometimes brief Mr. Greve ..."
+
+Mary Trevert clasped and unclasped her hands quickly.
+
+"I quite understand, Mr. Jeekes," she said. "You needn't say any more ..."
+
+She turned away in a manner that implied dismissal. It was as though she
+had forgotten the secretary's existence. He picked up his _attache_ case
+and walked slowly to the door.
+
+A sharp exclamation broke from his lips.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he cried, "the door ... I shut it a little while
+back ... look, it's ajar!"
+
+The girl who stood at the fire switched on the electric light by the
+mantelpiece.
+
+"Is ... is ... the door defective? Doesn't it shut properly?"
+
+The little secretary forced out the questions in an agitated voice.
+
+The girl walked across the room and shut the door. It closed perfectly,
+a piece of solid, well-fitting oak.
+
+"What does it mean?" said Mr. Jeekes in a whisper. "You understand, I
+should not wish what I told you just now about Mr. Parrish to be
+overheard ..."
+
+They opened the door again. The dusky corridor was empty.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+A SHEET OF BLUE PAPER
+
+The sight of that crumpled ball of slatey-blue paper brought back to
+Robin's mind with astonishing vividness every detail of the scene in the
+library. Once more he looked into Hartley Parrish's staring, unseeing
+eyes, saw the firelight gleam again on the heavy gold signet ring on the
+dead man's hand, the tag of the dead man's bootlace as it trailed from
+one sprawling foot across the carpet. Once more he felt the dark cloud
+of the mystery envelop him as a mist and with a little sigh he smoothed
+out the crumpled paper.
+
+It was an ordinary quarto sheet of stoutish paper, with a glazed
+surface, of an unusual shade of blue, darker than what the stationers
+call "azure," yet lighter than legal blue. At the top right-hand corner
+was typewritten a date: "Nov. 25." Otherwise the sheet was blank.
+
+The curious thing about it was that a number of rectangular slits had
+been cut in the paper. Robin counted them. There were seven. They were
+of varying sizes, the largest a little over an inch, the smallest not
+more than a quarter of an inch, in length. In depth they measured about
+an eighth of an inch.
+
+Robin stared at the paper uncomprehendingly. He remembered perfectly
+where he had found it on the floor of the library at Harkings, between
+the dead body and the waste-paper basket. The basket, he recalled, stood
+out in the open just clear of the desk on the left-hand side. From the
+position in which it was lying the ball of paper might have been aimed
+for the waste-paper basket and, missing it, have fallen on the carpet.
+
+Robin turned the sheet over. The back was blank. Then he held the paper
+up to the light. Yes, there was a water-mark. Now it was easily
+discernible. "EGMONT FF. QU." he made out.
+
+The train was slowing down. Robin glanced out of the window and saw that
+they were crossing the river in the mirky gloom of a London winter
+Sunday. He balanced the sheet of paper in his hands for a moment. Then
+he folded it carefully into four and stowed it away in his
+cigarette-case. The next moment the train thumped its way into Charing
+Cross.
+
+A taxi deposited him at the Middle Temple Gate. He walked the short
+distance to the set of chambers he occupied. On his front door a piece
+of paper was pinned. By the rambling calligraphy and the phonetic
+English he recognized the hand of his "laundress."
+
+  Dere sir [it ran], mr rite call he want to see u
+  pertikler i tole im as you was in country & give im ur
+  adress hope i dun rite mrs bragg
+
+Robin had scarcely got his key in the door of his "oak" when there was a
+step on the stair. A nice-looking young man with close-cropped fair hair
+appeared round the turn of the staircase.
+
+"Hullo, Robin," he exclaimed impetuously, "I _am_ glad to have caught
+you like this. Your woman gave me your address, so I rang up Harkings at
+once and they told me you had just gone back to town. So I came straight
+here. You remember me, don't you? Bruce Wright ... But perhaps I'm
+butting in. If you'd rather see me some other time...."
+
+"My dear boy," said Robin, motioning him into the flat, "of course I
+remember you. Only I didn't recognize you just for the minute. Shove
+your hat down here in the hall. And as for butting in,"--he threw open
+the door of the living-room,--"why! I think there is no other man in
+England I would so gladly see at this very moment as yourself."
+
+The living-room was a bright and cheery place, tastefully furnished in
+old oak with gay chintz curtains. It looked out on an old-world paved
+court in the centre of which stood a solitary soot-laden plane-tree.
+
+"What's this rot about Parrish having committed suicide?" demanded the
+boy abruptly.
+
+Robin gave him in the briefest terms an outline of the tragedy.
+
+"Poor old H.P., eh?" mused young Wright; "who'd have thought it?"
+
+"But the idea of suicide is preposterous," he broke out suddenly. "I
+knew Parrish probably better than anybody. He would never have done a
+thing like that. It must have been an accident...."
+
+Robin shook his head.
+
+"That possibility is ruled out by the medical evidence," he said, and
+stopped short.
+
+Bruce Wright, who had been pacing up and down the room, halted in front
+of the barrister.
+
+"I tell you that Parrish was not the man to commit suicide. Nothing
+would have even forced him to take his own life. You know, I was working
+with him as his personal secretary every day for more than two years,
+and I am sure!"
+
+He resumed his pacing up and down the room.
+
+"Has it ever occurred to you, Robin," he said presently, "that
+practically nothing is known of H.P.'s antecedents? For instance, do you
+know where he was born?"
+
+"I understand he was a Canadian," replied Robin with a shrewd glance at
+the flushed face of the boy.
+
+"He's lived in Canada," said Wright, "but originally he was a Cockney,
+from the London slums. And I believe I am the only person who knows
+that...."
+
+Robin pushed an armchair at his companion.
+
+"Sit down and tell me about it," he commanded.
+
+The boy dropped into the chair.
+
+"It was after I had been only a few months with him," he began, "shortly
+after I was discharged from the army with that lung wound of mine. We
+were driving back in the car from some munition works near Baling, and
+the chauffeur took a wrong turning near Wormwood Scrubs and got into a
+maze of dirty streets round there...."
+
+"I know," commented Robin, "Notting Dale, they call it...."
+
+"H.P. wasn't noticing much," Wright went on, "as he was dictating
+letters to me,--we used to do a lot of work in the Rolls-Royce in those
+rush days,--but, directly he noticed that the chauffeur was uncertain of
+the road, he shoved his head out of the window and put him right at
+once. I suppose I seemed surprised at his knowing his way about those
+parts, for he laughed at me and said: 'I was born and brought up down
+here, Bruce, in a little greengrocer's shop just off the Latimer Road.'
+I said nothing because I didn't want to interrupt his train of thought.
+He had never talked to me or Jeekes or any of us like that before.
+
+"'By Gad,' he went on, 'how the smell of the place brings back those
+days to me--the smell of decayed fruit, of stale fish, of dirt! Why, it
+seems like yesterday that Victor Marbran and I used to drive round
+uncle's cart with vegetables and coal. What a life to escape from,
+Bruce, my boy! Gad, you can count yourself lucky!'
+
+"He was like a man talking to himself. I asked him how he had broken
+away from it all. At that he laughed, a bitter, hard sort of laugh. 'By
+having the guts to break away from it, boy,' he said. 'It was I who made
+Victor Marbran come away with me. We worked our passages out to the Cape
+and made our way up-country to Matabeleland. That was in the early days
+of Rhodes and Barney Barnato--long before I went to Canada. I made
+Victor's fortune for him and mine as well. But I made more than Victor
+and he never forgave me. He'd do me a bad turn if he could ...'
+
+"Then he broke off short and went on with his dictating ..."
+
+"Did he ever come back to this phase of his life?"
+
+"Only when we got out of the car that morning. He said to me: 'Forget
+what I told you to-day, young fellow. Never rake up a man's past!' And
+he never mentioned the subject again. Of course, I didn't either ..."
+
+Stretched full length in his chair, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, Robin
+remained lost in thought.
+
+"The conversation came back to me to-day," said the boy, "when I read of
+Parrish's death. And I wondered ..."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Whether the secret of his death may not be found somewhere in his
+adventurous past. You see he said that Victor Marbran was an enemy. Then
+there was something else. I never told you--when you took all that
+trouble to get me another job after Parrish had sacked me--the exact
+reason for my dismissal. You never asked me either. That was decent of
+you, Robin ..."
+
+"I liked you, Bruce," said Robin shortly.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you now," he said. "When I joined H.P.'s staff after I
+got out of the Army, I was put under old Jeekes, of course, to learn the
+work. One of the first injunctions he gave me was with regard to Mr.
+Parrish's letters. I suppose you know more or less how secretaries of a
+big business man like Hartley Parrish work. They open all letters, lay
+the important ones before the big man for him to deal with personally,
+make a digest of the others or deal with them direct ..."
+
+Robin nodded.
+
+"Well," the boy resumed, "the first thing old Jeekes told me was that
+letters arriving in a blue envelope and marked 'Personal' were never to
+be opened ..."
+
+"In a blue envelope?" echoed Robin quickly.
+
+"Yes, a particular kind of blue--a sort of slatey-blue--Jeekes showed me
+one as a guide. Well, these letters were to be handed to Mr. Parrish
+unopened."
+
+Robin had stood up.
+
+"That's odd," he said, diving in his pocket.
+
+"I say, hold on a bit," protested the boy, "this is really rather
+important what I am telling you. I'll never finish if you keep on
+interrupting."
+
+"Sorry, Bruce," said Robin, and sat down again.
+
+But he began to play restlessly with his cigarette case which he had
+drawn from his pocket.
+
+"Well, of course," Bruce resumed, "I wasn't much of a private secretary
+really, and one day I forgot all about this injunction. Some days old
+H.P. got as many as three hundred letters. I was alone at Harkings with
+him, I remember, Jeekes was up at Sheffield and the other secretaries
+were away ill or something, and in the rush of dealing with this
+enormous mail I slit one of these blue envelopes open with the rest. I
+discovered what I had done only after I had got all the letters sorted
+out, this one with the rest. So I went straight to old H.P. and told
+him. By Jove!"
+
+"What happened?" said Robin.
+
+"He got into the most paralytic rage," said Bruce. "I have never seen a
+man in such an absolute frenzy of passion. He went right off the hooks,
+just like that! He fairly put the wind up me. For a minute I thought he
+was going to kill me. He snatched the letter out of my hand, called me
+every name under the sun, and finally shouted: 'You're fired, d'ye hear?
+I won't employ men who disobey my orders! Get out of this before I do
+you a mischief! I went straight off. And I never saw him again ..."
+
+Robin Greve looked very serious. But his face displayed no emotion as he
+asked:
+
+"And what was in the letter for him to make such a fuss about?"
+
+The boy shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"That was the extraordinary part of it. The letter was perfectly
+harmless. It was an ordinary business letter from a firm in Holland ..."
+
+"In Holland?" cried Greve. "Did you say in Holland? Tell me the name!
+No, wait, see if I can remember. 'Van' something--'Speck' or 'Spike' ..."
+
+"I remember the name perfectly," answered Bruce, rather puzzled by the
+other's sudden outburst; "it was Van der Spyck and Co. of Rotterdam. We
+had a good deal of correspondence with them ..."
+
+Robin Greve had opened his cigarette-case and drawn from it a creased
+square of blue paper folded twice across. Unfolding it, he held up the
+sheet he had found in the library at Harkings.
+
+"Is that the paper those letters were written on?" he asked.
+
+Bruce took the sheet from him. He held it up to the light.
+
+"Why, yes," came the prompt answer. "I'd know it in a minute. Look, it's
+the same water-mark. 'Egmont.' Where did you get hold of it?"
+
+"Bruce," said Robin gravely, without answering the question, "we're
+getting into deep water, boy!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+SHADOWS
+
+Robert Greve stood for an instant in silence by the window of his rooms.
+His fingers hammered out a tattoo on the pane. His eyes were fixed on
+the windows of the chambers across the court. But they did not take in
+the pleasant prospect of the tall, ivy-framed casements in their mellow
+setting of warm red brick. He was trying to fix a mental photograph of a
+letter--typewritten on paper of dark slatey blue--which he had seen on
+Hartley Parrish's desk in the library at Harkings on the previous
+afternoon.
+
+Prompted by Bruce Wright, he could now recall the heading clearly.
+"ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & Co., GENERAL IMPORTERS, ROTTERDAM," stood printed
+before his eyes as plainly as though he still held the typewritten sheet
+in front of him. But the mind plays curious tricks. Robin's brain had
+registered the name; yet it recorded no impression of the contents of
+the letter. Beyond the fact that it dealt in plain commercial fashion
+with some shipments or other, he could recall no particular whatever of
+it.
+
+"But where did you get hold of this sheet of paper?" Bruce Wright's
+voice broke in impatiently behind him. "I'm most frightfully interested
+to know ..."
+
+"Found it on the floor beside Parrish's body," answered Robin briefly.
+"There was a letter, too, on the same paper ..."
+
+"By Gad!" exclaimed the boy eagerly, "have you got that too?"
+
+Robin shook his head.
+
+"It was only your story that made me think of it. I had the letter. But
+I left it where I found it--on Parrish's desk in the library ..."
+
+"But you read it ... you know what was in it?"
+
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"It was a perfectly straightforward business letter ... something about
+steel shipments ... I don't remember any more ..."
+
+"A straightforward business letter," commented the boy. "Like the letter
+I read, eh?..."
+
+"Tell me, Bruce," said Robin, after a moment's silence, "during the time
+you were with Hartley Parrish, I suppose these blue letters came pretty
+often?"
+
+Young Wright wrinkled his brow in thought.
+
+"It's rather difficult to say. You see, there were three of us besides
+old Jeekes, and, of course, these letters might have come without my
+knowledge anything about it. But during the seven months I worked with
+H.P. I suppose about half a dozen of these letters passed through my
+hands. They used to worry H.P., you know, Robin ..."
+
+"Worry him?" exclaimed Robin sharply; "how do you mean?"
+
+"Well," said Bruce, "Parrish was a very easygoing fellow, you know. He
+worked every one--himself included--like the devil, of course. But he
+was hardly ever nervy or grumpy. And so I was a bit surprised to
+find--after I had been with him for a time--that every now and then he
+sort of shrivelled up. He used to look ... well, careworn and ... and
+haggard. And at these times he was pretty short with all of us. It was
+such an extraordinary change from his usual cheery, optimistic self that
+sometimes I suspected him of dope or some horror like that ..."
+
+Robin shook his head. He had a sudden vision of Hartley Parrish, one of
+his long, black Partagas thrust at an aggressive angle from a corner of
+his mouth, virile, battling, strong.
+
+"Oh, no," he said, "not dope ..."
+
+"No, no, I know," the boy went on quickly. "It wasn't dope. It was
+fear ..."
+
+Robin swung round from the window.
+
+"Fear? Fear of what?"
+
+The boy cast a frightened glance over his shoulder rather as if he
+fancied he might be overheard.
+
+"Of those letters," he replied. "I am sure it was that. I watched him
+and ... and I _know_. Every time he got one of those letters in the
+bluish envelopes, these curious fits of gloom came over him. Robin ..."
+
+"What, Bruce?"
+
+"I think he was being blackmailed!"
+
+The barrister nodded thoughtfully.
+
+"Don't you agree?"
+
+The boy awaited his answer eagerly.
+
+"Something very like that," replied the other.
+
+Then suddenly he smashed his fist into the open palm of his other hand.
+
+"But he wouldn't have taken it lying down!" he cried. "Hartley Parrish
+was a fighter, Bruce. Did you ever know a man who could best him? No,
+no, it won't fit! Besides ..."
+
+He broke off and thought for an instant.
+
+"We must get that letter from Harkings," he said presently. "Jeekes will
+have it. We can do nothing until ..."
+
+His voice died away. Bruce, sunk in one of the big leather armchairs,
+was astonished to see him slip quickly away from the window and ensconce
+himself behind one of the chintz curtains.
+
+"Here, Bruce," Robin called softly across the room. "Just come here.
+But take care not to show yourself. Look out, keep behind the curtain
+and here ... peep out through this chink!"
+
+Young Wright peered through a narrow slit between the curtain and the
+window-frame. In the far corner of the courtyard beneath the windows,
+where a short round iron post marked a narrow passage leading to the
+adjoining court, a man was standing. He wore a shabby suit and a blue
+handkerchief knotted about his neck served him as a substitute for the
+more conventional collar and tie. His body was more than half concealed
+by the side of the house along which the passage ran. But his face was
+clearly distinguishable--a peaky, thin face, the upper part in the
+shadow of the peak of a discoloured tweed cap.
+
+"He's been there on and off all the time we've been talking," said
+Robin. "I wasn't sure at first. But now I'm certain. He's watching these
+windows! Look!"
+
+Briskly the watcher's head was withdrawn to emerge again, slowly and
+cautiously, in a little while.
+
+"But who is he? What does he want?" asked Bruce.
+
+"I haven't an idea," retorted Robin Greve. "But I could guess. Tell me,
+Bruce," he went on, stepping back from the window and motioning the boy
+to do the same, "did you notice anybody following you when you came
+here?"
+
+Bruce shook his head.
+
+"I'm pretty sure nobody did. You see, I came in from the Strand, down
+Middle Temple Lane. Once service has started at Temple Church there's
+not a mouse stirring in the Inn till the church is out. I think I should
+have noticed if any one had followed me up to your chambers ..."
+
+Robin set his chin squarely.
+
+"Then he came after me," he said. "Bruce, you'll have to go to Harkings
+and get that letter!"
+
+"By all means," answered the boy. "But, I say, they won't much like me
+butting in, will they?"
+
+"You'll have to say you came down to offer your sympathy, ... volunteer
+your services ... oh, anything. But you _must_ get that letter! Do you
+understand, Bruce? _You must get that letter_--if you have to steal
+it!"
+
+The boy gave a long whistle.
+
+"That's rather a tall order, isn't it?" he said.
+
+Robin nodded. His face was very grave.
+
+"Yes," he said presently, "I suppose it is. But there is something ...
+something horrible behind this case, Bruce, something dark and..and
+mysterious. And I mean to get to the bottom of it. With your help. Or
+alone!"
+
+Bruce put his hand impulsively on the other's arm.
+
+"You can count on me, you know," he said. "But don't you think ..."
+
+He broke off shyly.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Don't you think you'd better tell me what you know. And what you
+suspect!"
+
+Robin hesitated.
+
+"Yes," he said, "that's fair. I suppose I ought. But there's not much to
+tell, Bruce. Just before Hartley Parrish was found dead, I asked Miss
+Trevert to marry me. I was too late. She was already engaged to Hartley
+Parrish. I was horrified ... I know some things about Parrish ... we had
+words and I went off. Five minutes later Miss Trevert went to fetch
+Parrish in to tea and heard a shot behind the locked door of the
+library. Horace Trevert got in through the window and found Parrish
+dead. Every one down at Harkings believes that I went in and threatened
+Parrish so that he committed suicide ..."
+
+"Whom do you mean by every one?"
+
+Robin laughed drily. "Mary Trevert, her mother, Horace Trevert ..."
+
+"The police, too?"
+
+"Certainly. The police more than anybody!"
+
+"By Jove!" commented the boy.
+
+"You ask me what I suspect," Robin continued. "I admit I have no
+positive proof. But I suspect that Hartley Parrish did not die by his
+own hand!"
+
+Bruce Wright looked up with a startled expression on his face.
+
+"You mean that he was murdered?"
+
+"I do!"
+
+"But how? Why?"
+
+Then Robin told him of the experiment in the library, of the open window
+and of the bullet mark he had discovered in the rosery.
+
+"What I want to know," he said, "and what I am determined to find out
+beyond any possible doubt, is whether the bullet found in Hartley
+Parrish's body was fired from _his_ pistol. But before we reach that
+point we have to explain how it happened that only one shot was heard
+and how a bullet which _apparently_ came from Parrish's pistol was found
+in his body ..."
+
+"If Mr. Parrish was murdered, the murderer might have turned the gun
+round in Parrish's hand and forced him to shoot himself ..."
+
+"Hardly," said Robin. "Remember, Mary Trevert was at the door when the
+shot was fired. Your theory presupposes the employment of force, in
+other words, a struggle. Miss Trevert heard no scuffling. No, I've
+thought of that.. it won't do ..."
+
+"Have you any suspicion of who the murderer might be?"
+
+Robin shook his head decidedly.
+
+"Not a shadow of an idea," he affirmed positively. "But I have a notion
+that we shall find a clue in this letter which, like a blithering fool,
+I left on Parrish's desk. It's the first glimmer of hope I've seen yet ..."
+
+Bruce Wright squared his shoulders and threw his head back.
+
+"I'll get it for you," he said.
+
+"Good boy," said Robin. "But, Bruce," he went on, "you'll have to go
+carefully. My name is mud in that house. You mustn't say you come from
+me. And if you ask boldly for the letter, they won't give it to you.
+Jeekes might, if he's there and you approach him cautiously. But, for
+Heaven's sake, don't try any diplomacy on Manderton ... that's the
+Scotland Yard man. He's as wary as a fox and sharp as needles."
+
+Bruce Wright buttoned up his coat with an air of finality.
+
+"Leave it to me," he said, "I know Harkings like my pocket. Besides I've
+got a friend there ..."
+
+"Who might that be?" queried the barrister.
+
+"Bude," answered the boy and laid a finger on his lips.
+
+"But," he pursued, jerking his head in the direction of the window,
+"what are we going to do about him out there?"
+
+Robin laughed.
+
+"Him?" he said. "Oh, I'm going to take him out for an airing!"
+
+Robin stepped out into the hall. He returned wearing his hat and
+overcoat. In his hand were two yale keys strung on a wisp of pink tape.
+
+"Listen, Bruce," he said. "Give me ten minutes' start to get rid of this
+jackal. Then clear out. There's a train to Stevenish at 3.23. If you get
+on the Underground at the Temple you ought to be able to make it easily.
+Here are the keys of the chambers. I can put you up here to-night if you
+like. I'll expect you when I see you ... with that letter. Savvy?"
+
+The boy stood up.
+
+"You'll have that letter to-night," he answered. "But in the
+meantime,"--he waved the blue sheet with its mysterious slots at
+Robin,--"what do you make of this?"
+
+Robin took the sheet of paper from him and replaced it in his
+cigarette-case.
+
+"Perhaps, when we have the letter," he replied, "I shall be able to
+answer that question!"
+
+Then he lit a cigarette, gave the boy his hand, and a minute later Bruce
+Wright, watching through the chink of the curtain from the window of
+Robin Greve's chambers, saw a lanky form shuffle across the court and
+follow Robin round the angle of the house.
+
+Robin strode quickly through the maze of narrow passages and tranquil,
+echoing courts into the Sabbath stillness of the Strand. An occasional
+halt at a shop-window was sufficient to assure him that the watcher of
+the Temple was still on his heels. The man, he was interested to see,
+played his part very unobtrusively, shambling along in nonchalant
+fashion, mostly hugging the sides of the houses, ready to dart out of
+sight into a doorway or down a side turning, should he by any mischance
+arrive too close on the heels of his quarry.
+
+As he walked along, Robin turned over in his mind the best means for
+getting rid of his shadow. Should he dive into a Tube station and plunge
+headlong down the steps? He rejected this idea as calculated to let the
+tracker know that his presence was suspected. Then he reviewed in his
+mind the various establishments he knew of in London with double
+entrances, thinking that he might slip in by the one entrance and
+emerge by the other.
+
+In Pall Mall he came upon Tony Grandell, whom he had last seen playing
+bridge in the company dugout on the Flesquieres Kidge. Then he had been
+in "battle order," camouflaged as a private soldier, as officers were
+ordered to go over the top in the latter phases of the war. Now he was
+resplendent in what the invitation cards call "Morning Dress" crowned by
+what must certainly have been the most relucent top-hat in London.
+
+"Hullo, hullo, hullo!" cried Tony, on catching sight of him; "stand to
+your kits and so forth! And how is my merry company commander? Robin,
+dear, come and relieve the medieval gloom of lunch with my aunt at
+Mart's!"
+
+He linked his arm affectionately in Robin's.
+
+Mart's! Robin's brain snatched at the word. Mart's! most respectable of
+"family hotels," wedged in between two quiet streets off Piccadilly with
+an entrance from both. If ever a man wanted to dodge a sleuth,
+especially a grimy tatterdemalion like the one sidling up Pall Mall
+behind them ...
+
+"Tony, old son," said Robin, "I won't lunch with you even to set the
+board in a roar at your aunt's luncheon-party. But I'll walk up to
+Mart's with you, for I'm going there myself ..."
+
+They entered Mart's together and parted in the vestibule, where Tony
+gravely informed his "dear old scream" that he must fly to his
+"avuncular luncheon." Robin walked quickly through the hotel and left by
+the other entrance. The street was almost deserted. Of the man with the
+dingy neckerchief there was no sign. Robin hurried into Piccadilly and
+hopped on a 'bus which put him down at his club facing the Green Park.
+
+He had a late lunch there and afterwards took a taxi back to the Temple.
+The daylight was failing as he crossed the courtyard in front of his
+chambers. In the centre the smoke-blackened plane-tree throned it in
+unchallenged solitude. But, as Robin's footsteps echoed across the
+flags, something more substantial than a shadow seemed to melt into the
+gathering dusk in the corner where the narrow passage ran.
+
+Robin stopped to listen at the entrance to his chambers. As he stood
+there he heard a heavy tread on the stone steps within. He turned to
+face a solidly built swarthy-looking man who emerged from the building.
+
+He favoured Robin with a leisurely, searching stare, then strode heavily
+across the courtyard to the little passage where he disappeared from
+view.
+
+Robin looked after him. The man was a stranger: the occupants of the
+other chambers were all known to him. With a thoughtful expression on
+his face Robin entered the house and mounted to his rooms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+THE INTRUDER
+
+"D----!" exclaimed Bruce Wright.
+
+He stood in the great porch at Harkings, his finger on the electric
+bell. No sound came in response to the pressure, nor any one to open the
+door. Thus he had stood for fully ten minutes listening in vain for any
+sound within the house. All was still as death. He began to think that
+the bell was out of order. He had forgotten Hartley Parrish's insistence
+on quiet. All bells at Harkings rang, discreetly muted, in the servants'
+hall.
+
+He stepped out of the porch on to the drive. The weather had improved
+and, under a freshening wind, the country was drying up. As he reached
+the hard gravel, he heard footsteps, Bude appeared, his collar turned
+up, his swallow-tails floating in the wind.
+
+"Now, be off with you!" he cried as soon as he caught sight of the trim
+figure in the grey overcoat; "how many more of ye have I to tell there's
+nothing for you to get here! Go on, get out before I put the dog on
+you!"
+
+He waved an imperious hand at Bruce.
+
+"Hullo, Bude," said the boy, "you've grown very inhospitable all of a
+sudden!"
+
+"God bless my soul if it isn't young Mr. Wright!" exclaimed the butler.
+"And I thought it was another of those dratted reporters. It's been
+ring, ring, ring the whole blessed morning, sir, you can believe me, as
+if they owned the place, wanting to interview me and Mr. Jeekes and Miss
+Trevert and the Lord knows who else. Lot of interfering busybodies, _I_
+call 'em! I'd shut up all noospapers by law if I had my way ..."
+
+"Is Mr. Jeekes here, Bude?" asked Bruce.
+
+"He's gone off to London in the car, sir ... But won't you come in, Mr.
+Wright? If you wouldn't mind coming in by the side door. I have to keep
+the front door closed to shut them scribbling fellows out. One of them
+had the face to ask me to let him into the library to take a
+photograph ..."
+
+He led the way round the side of the house to the glass door in the
+library corridor.
+
+"This is a sad business, Bude!" said Bruce.
+
+"Ah, indeed, it is, sir," he sighed. "He had his faults had Mr. Parrish,
+as well _you_ know, Mr. Wright. But he was an open-handed gentleman,
+that I will say, and we'll all miss him at Harkings ..."
+
+They were now in the corridor. Bude jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
+
+"It was in there they found him," he said in a low voice, "with a hole
+plumb over the heart."
+
+His voice sank to a whisper. "There's blood on the carpet!" he added
+impressively.
+
+"I should like just to take a peep at the room, Bude," ventured the boy,
+casting a sidelong glance at the butler.
+
+"Can't be done, sir," said Bude, shaking his head; "orders of
+Detective-Inspector Manderton. The police is very strict, Mr. Wright,
+sir!"
+
+"There seems to be no one around just now, Bude," the young man
+wheedled. "There can't be any harm in my just going in for a second?..."
+
+"Go in you should, Mr. Wright, sir," said the butler genially, "if I had
+my way. But the door's locked. And, what's more, the police have the
+key."
+
+"Is the detective anywhere about?" asked Bruce.
+
+"No, sir," answered Bude. "He's gone off to town, too! And he don't
+expect to be back before the inquest. That's for Toosday!"
+
+"But isn't there another key anywhere?" persisted the boy.
+
+"No, sir," said Bude positively, "there isn't but the one. And that's
+in Mr. Manderton's vest pocket!"
+
+Young Wright wrinkled his brow in perplexity. He was very young, but he
+had a fine strain of perseverance in him. He was not nearly at the end
+of his resources, he told himself.
+
+"Well, then," he said suddenly, "I'm going outside to have a look
+through the window. I remember you can see into the library from the
+path round the house!"
+
+He darted out, the butler, protesting, lumbering along behind him.
+
+"Mr. Wright," he panted as he ran, "you didn't reelly ought ... If any
+one should come ..."
+
+But Bruce Wright was already at the window. The butler found him leaning
+on the sill, peering with an air of frightened curiosity into the empty
+room.
+
+"The glazier from Stevenish"--Bude's voice breathed the words hoarsely
+in Wright's ear--"is coming to-morrow morning to put the window in. He
+wouldn't come to-day, him being a chapel-goer and religious. It was
+there we found poor Mr. Parrish--d'you see, sir, just between the window
+and the desk!"
+
+But Bruce Wright did not heed him. His eyes were fixed on the big
+writing-desk, on the line of black japanned letter-trays set out in
+orderly array. Outside, the short winter afternoon was drawing in fast,
+and the light was failing. Dusky shadows within the library made it
+difficult to distinguish objects clearly.
+
+A voice close at hand cried out sharply:
+
+"Mr. Bude! Mr. Bu-u-ude!"
+
+"They're calling me!" whispered the butler in his ear with a tug at his
+sleeve; "come away, sir!"
+
+But Bruce shook him off. He heard the man's heavy tread on the gravel,
+then a door slam.
+
+How dark the room was growing, to be sure! Strain his eyes as he might,
+he could not get a clear view of the contents of the letter-trays on the
+desk. But their high backs hid their contents from his eyes. Even when
+he hoisted himself on to the window-sill he could not get a better view.
+
+He dropped back on to the gravel path and listened. The wind soughed
+sadly in the bare tree-tops, somewhere in the distance a dog barked
+hoarsely, insistently; otherwise not a sound was to be heard. He cast a
+cautious glance round the side of the house. The glass door was shut;
+the lamp in the corridor had not been lit.
+
+Hoisting himself up to the window-sill again, he crooked one knee on the
+rough edge and thrusting one arm through the broken pane of glass,
+unbolted the window. Then, steadying himself with one hand, with the
+other he very gently pushed up the window, threw his legs across the
+sill, and dropped into the library. Very deliberately, he turned and
+pushed the window softly down behind him.
+
+Some unconscious prompting, perhaps an unfamiliar surface beneath his
+feet, made him look down. Where his feet rested on the mole-grey carpet
+a wide dark patch stood out from the delicate shade of the rug. For a
+moment a spasm of physical nausea caught him.
+
+"How beastly!" he whispered to himself and took a step towards the desk.
+
+Hartley Parrish's desk was arranged just as he always remembered it to
+have been. All the letter-trays save one were empty. In that was a
+little pile of papers held down by a massive marble paper-weight.
+Quickly he stepped round the desk.
+
+He had put out his hand to lift the weight when there was a gentle
+rattle at the door.
+
+Bruce Wright wheeled instantly round, back to the desk, to face the
+door, which, in the gathering dusk, was now but a squarer patch of
+darkness among the shadows at the far end of the library. He stood
+absolutely still, rooted to the spot, his heart thumping so fast that,
+in that silent room, he could hear the rapid beats.
+
+Some one was unlocking the library door. As realization came to the
+boy, he tiptoed rapidly round the desk, the sound of his feet muffled by
+the heavy pile carpet, and reached the window. There was a click as the
+lock of the door was shot back. Without further hesitation Bruce stepped
+behind the long curtains which fell from the top of the window to the
+floor.
+
+The curtains, of some heavy grey material, were quite opaque. Bruce
+realized, with a sinking heart, that he must depend on his ears to
+discover the identity of this mysterious interloper. He dared not look
+out from his hiding-place--at least not until he could be sure that the
+newcomer had his back to the window. He remained, rigid and vigilant,
+straining his ears to catch the slightest sound, scarcely daring to
+breathe.
+
+He heard the door open, heard it softly close again. Then ... silence.
+Not another sound. The boy remembered the heavy pile carpet and cursed
+his luck. He would have to risk a peep round the curtains. But not yet!
+He must wait ...
+
+A very slight rustling, a faint prolonged rustling, caught his ear. It
+came nearer, then stopped. There was a little rattling noise from
+somewhere close at hand, a small clinking sound.
+
+Then silence fell again.
+
+The wind whooshed sadly round the house, the window clattered dismally
+in its frame, the curtains tugged fretfully before the cold breeze which
+blew in at the broken pane. But the silence in the room was absolute.
+
+It began to oppress the boy. It frightened him. He felt an
+uncontrollable desire to look out into the room and establish the
+identity of the mysterious entrant. He glided his hand towards the
+window-frame in the hope that he might find a chink between curtain and
+wall through which he might risk a peep into the room. But the curtain
+was fastened to the wall.
+
+The room was almost entirely dark now. Only behind him was a patch of
+grey light where the lowering evening sky was framed in the window. He
+began to draw the curtain very slowly towards him, at the same time
+leaning to the right. Very cautiously he applied one eye to the edge of
+the curtain.
+
+As he did so a bright light struck him full in the face. It streamed
+full from a lamp on the desk and almost blinded him. It was a
+reading-lamp and the bulb had been turned up so as to throw a beam on
+the curtain behind which the boy was sheltering.
+
+Behind the desk, straining back in terror, stood a slim, girlish figure.
+The details of her dress were lost in the gathering shadows, but her
+face stood out in the gloom, a pale oval. Bruce could see the dark line
+made by the lashes on her cheek.
+
+At the sight of her, he stepped boldly forth from his hiding-place,
+shielding his eyes from the light with his hand.
+
+"It's Bruce Wright, Miss Trevert," he said, "don't you remember me?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+A FRESH CLUE
+
+"Oh!" cried the girl, "you frightened me! You frightened me! What do you
+want here ... in this horrible room?"
+
+She was trembling. One slim hand plucked nervously at her dress. Her
+breath came and went quickly.
+
+"I saw the curtain move. I thought it was the wind at first. But then I
+saw the outline of your fingers. And I imagined it was he ... come
+back ..."
+
+"Miss Trevert," said the boy abashed, "I must have frightened you
+terribly. I had no idea it was you!"
+
+"But why are you hiding here? How did you get in? What do you want in
+this house?"
+
+She spoke quickly, nervously. Some papers she held in her hand shook
+with her emotion. Bruce Wright stepped to the desk and turned the bulb
+of the reading-lamp down into its normal position.
+
+"I must apologize most sincerely for the fright I gave you," he said.
+"But, believe me, Miss Trevert, I had no idea that anybody could gain
+access to this room. I climbed in through the window. Bude told me that
+the police had taken away the key ..."
+
+The girl made an impatient gesture.
+
+"But why have you come here?" she said. "What do you want?"
+
+The boy measured her with a narrow glance. He was young, but he was
+shrewd. He saw her frank eyes, her candid, open mien, and he took a
+rapid decision.
+
+"I think I have come," he answered slowly, "for the same purpose as
+yourself!"
+
+And he looked at the papers in her hand.
+
+"I used to be Mr. Parrish's secretary, you know," he said.
+
+The girl sighed--a little fluttering sigh--and looked earnestly at him.
+
+"I remember," she said. "Hartley liked you. He was sorry that he sent
+you away. He often spoke of you to me. But why have you come back? What
+do you mean by saying you have come for the same purpose as myself?"
+
+Bruce Wright looked at the array of letter-trays. The marble
+paper-weight had been displaced. The tray in which it had lain was
+empty. He looked at the sheaf of papers in the girl's hand.
+
+"I wanted to see," he replied, "whether there was anything here ... on
+his desk ... which would explain the mystery of his death ..."
+
+The girl spread out the papers in her hand on the big blotter.
+
+She laid the papers out in a row and leant forward, her white arms
+resting on the desk. From the other side of the desk the boy leant
+eagerly forward and scanned the line of papers.
+
+At the first glimpse his face fell. The girl, eyeing him closely, marked
+the change which came over his features.
+
+There were seven papers of various kinds, both printed and written, and
+they were all on white paper.
+
+The boy shook his head and swept the papers together into a heap.
+
+"It's not there?" queried the girl eagerly.
+
+"No!" said Bruce absent-mindedly, glancing round the desk.
+
+"What isn't?" flashed back the girl.
+
+Bruce Wright felt his face redden with vexation. What sort of a
+confidential emissary was he to fall into a simple trap like this?
+
+The girl smiled rather wanly.
+
+"Now I know what you meant by saying you had come for the same purpose
+as myself," she said. "I suppose we both thought we might find
+something, a letter, perhaps, which would explain why Mr. Parrish did
+this dreadful thing, something to relieve this awful uncertainty about ...
+about his motive. Well, I've searched the desk ... and there's
+nothing! Nothing but just these prospectuses and receipts which were in
+the letter-tray here. They must have come by the post yesterday morning.
+And there's nothing of any importance in the drawers ... only household
+receipts and the wages book and a few odd things like that! You can see
+for yourself ..."
+
+The lower part of the desk consisted of three drawers flanked on either
+side by cupboards. Mary Trevert pulled out the drawers and opened the
+cupboards. Two of the drawers were entirely empty and one of the
+cupboards contained nothing but a stack of cigar boxes. One drawer held
+various papers appertaining to the house. There was no sign of any
+letter written on the slatey-blue paper.
+
+The boy looked very hard at Mary.
+
+"You say there was nothing in the letter-tray but these papers here?" he
+asked.
+
+"Nothing but these," replied the girl.
+
+"You didn't notice any official-looking letter on bluish paper?" he
+ventured to ask.
+
+"No," answered the girl. "I found nothing but these."
+
+The boy thought for a moment.
+
+"Do you know," he asked, "whether the police or anybody have been
+through the desk?"
+
+"I don't know at all," said Mary, smoothing back a lock of hair from her
+temple; "I daresay Mr. Jeekes had a look round, as he had a meeting with
+Mr. Parrish's lawyer in town this afternoon!"
+
+She had lost all trace of her fright and was now quite calm and
+collected.
+
+"Do you know for certain whether Mr. Jeekes was in here?" asked Bruce.
+
+"Oh, yes. The first thing he did on arriving last night was to go to the
+library."
+
+"I suppose Jeekes is coming back here to-night?"
+
+No, she told him. Mr. Jeekes did not expect to return to Harkings until
+the inquest on Tuesday.
+
+Bruce Wright picked up his hat.
+
+"I must apologize again, Miss Trevert," he said, "for making such an
+unconventional entrance and giving you such a fright. But I felt I could
+not rest until I had investigated matters for myself. I would have
+presented myself in the ordinary way, but, as I told you, Bude told me
+the police had locked up the room and taken away the key ..."
+
+Mary Trevert smiled forgivingly.
+
+"So they did," she said. "But Jay--Mr. Parrish's man, you know--had
+another key. He brought it to me."
+
+She looked at Bruce with a whimsical little smile.
+
+"You must have been very uncomfortable behind those curtains," she said.
+"I believe you were just as frightened as I was."
+
+She walked round the desk to the window.
+
+"It was a good hiding-place," she remarked, "but not much good as an
+observation post. Why! you could see nothing of the room. The curtains
+are much too thick!"
+
+"Not a thing," Bruce agreed rather ruefully. "I thought you were the
+detective!"
+
+He held out his hand to take his leave with a smile. He was a
+charming-looking boy with a remarkably serene expression which went well
+with close-cropped golden hair.
+
+Mary Trevert did not take his hand for an instant. Looking down at the
+point of her small black suede shoe she said shyly:
+
+"Mr. Wright, you are a friend of Mr. Greve, aren't you?"
+
+"Rather!" was the enthusiastic answer.
+
+"Do you see him often?"
+
+The boy's eyes narrowed suddenly. Was this a cross-examination?
+
+"Oh, yes," he replied, "every now and then!"
+
+Mary Trevert raised her eyes to his.
+
+"Will you do something for me?" she said. "Tell Mr. Greve not to trust
+Manderton. He will know whom I mean. Tell him to be on his guard against
+that man. Say he means mischief. Tell him, above all things, to be
+careful. Make him go away ... go abroad until this thing has blown
+over ..."
+
+She spoke with intense earnestness, her dark eyes fixed on Bruce
+Wright's face.
+
+"But promise me you won't say this comes from me! Do you understand?
+There are reasons, very strong reasons, for this. Will you promise?"
+
+"Of course!"
+
+She took Bruce's outstretched hand.
+
+"I promise," he said.
+
+"You mustn't go without tea," said the girl. "Besides,"--she glanced at
+a little platinum watch on her wrist,--"there's not another train until
+six. There is no need for you to start yet. I don't like being left
+alone. Mother has one of her headaches, and Horace and Dr. Romain have
+gone to Stevenish. Come up to my sitting-room!"
+
+She led the way out of the library, locking the door behind them, and
+together they went up to the Chinese boudoir where tea was laid on a low
+table before a bright fire. In the dainty room with its bright colours
+they seemed far removed from the tragedy which had darkened Harkings.
+
+They had finished tea when a tap came at the door. Bude appeared. He
+cast a reproachful look at Bruce.
+
+"Jay would be glad to have a word with you, Miss," he said.
+
+The girl excused herself and left the room. She was absent for about ten
+minutes. When she returned, she had a little furrow of perplexity
+between her brows. She walked over to the open fireplace and stood
+silent for an instant, her foot tapping the hearth-rug.
+
+"Mr. Wright," she said presently, "I'm going to tell you something that
+Jay has just told me. I want your advice ..."
+
+The boy looked at her interrogatively. But he did not speak.
+
+"I think this is rather important," the girl went on, "but I don't quite
+understand in what way it is. Jay tells me that Mr. Parrish had on his
+pistol a sort of steel fitting attached to the end ... you know, the
+part you shoot out of. Mr. Parrish used to keep his automatic in a
+drawer in his dressing-room, and Jay has often seen it there with this
+attachment fitted on. Well, when Mr. Parrish was discovered in the
+library yesterday, this thing was no longer on the pistol. And Jay says
+it's not to be found!..."
+
+"That's rather strange!" commented Bruce. "But what was this steel
+contraption for, do you know? Was it a patent sight or something?"
+
+"Jay doesn't know," answered the girl.
+
+"Would you mind if I spoke to Jay myself?" asked the young man.
+
+In reply the girl touched the bell beside the fireplace. Bude answered
+the summons and was despatched to find Jay. He appeared in due course, a
+tall, dark, sleek young man wearing a swallow-tail coat and striped
+trousers.
+
+"How are you, Jay?" said Bruce affably.
+
+"Very well, thank you, sir," replied the valet.
+
+"Miss Trevert was telling me about this appliance which you say Mr.
+Parrish had on his automatic. Could you describe it to me?"
+
+"Well, sir," answered the man rather haltingly, "it was a little sort of
+cup made of steel or gun-metal fitting closely over the barrel ..."
+
+"And you don't know what it was for?"
+
+"No, sir!"
+
+"Was it a sight, do you think?"
+
+"I can't say, I'm sure, sir!"
+
+"You know what a sight looks like, I suppose. Was there a bead on it or
+anything like it?"
+
+"I can't say, I'm sure, sir. I never gave any particular heed to it. I
+used to see the automatic lying in the drawer of the wardrobe in Mr.
+Parrish's room in a wash-leather case. I noticed this steel appliance,
+sir, because the case wouldn't shut over the pistol with it on and the
+butt used to stick out."
+
+"When did you last notice Mr. Parrish's automatic?"
+
+"It would be Thursday or Friday, sir. I went to that drawer to get Mr.
+Parrish an old stock to go riding in as some new ones he had bought were
+stiff and hurt him."
+
+"And this steel cup was on the pistol then?"
+
+"Oh, yes, sir!"
+
+"And you say it was not on the pistol when Mr. Parrish's body was
+found?"
+
+"No, sir!"
+
+"Are you sure of this?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I was one of the first in the room, and I saw the pistol in
+Mr. Parrish's hand, and there was no sign of the cup, sir. So I've had a
+good look among his things and I can't find it anywhere!"
+
+Bruce Wright pondered a minute.
+
+"Try and think, Jay," he said, "if you can't remember anything more
+about this steel cup, as you call it. Where did Mr. Parrish buy it?"
+
+"Can't say, I'm sure, sir. He had it before ever I took service with
+him!"
+
+Jay put his hand to his forehead for an instant.
+
+"Now I come to think of it," he said, "there was the name of the shop or
+maker on it, stamped on the steel. 'Maxim,' that was the name, now I put
+my mind back, with a number ..."
+
+"Maxim?" echoed Bruce Wright. "Did you say Maxim?"
+
+"Yes, sir! That was the name!" replied the valet impassively.
+
+"By Jove!" said the boy half to himself. Then he said aloud to Jay:
+
+"Did you tell the police about this?"
+
+Jay looked somewhat uncomfortable.
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Jay looked at Mary Trevert.
+
+"Well, sir, I thought perhaps I'd better tell Miss Trevert first. Bude
+thought so, too. That there Manderton has made so much unpleasantness in
+the house with his prying ways that I said to myself, sir ..."
+
+Bruce Wright looked at Mary.
+
+"Would you mind if I asked Jay not to say anything about this to anybody
+just for the present?" he asked.
+
+"You hear what Mr. Wright says, Jay," said Mary. "I don't want you to
+say anything about this matter just yet. Do you understand?"
+
+"Yes, Miss. Will that be all, Miss?"
+
+"Yes, thank you, Jay!"
+
+"Thanks very much, Jay," said the boy. "This may be important. Mum's the
+word, though!"
+
+"I _quite_ understand, sir," answered the valet and left the room.
+
+Hardly had the door closed on him than the girl turned eagerly to Bruce.
+
+"It _is_ important?" she asked.
+
+"It may be," was the guarded reply.
+
+"Don't leave me in the dark like this," the girl pleaded. "This horrible
+affair goes on growing and growing, and at every step it seems more
+bewildering ... more ghastly. Tell me where it is leading, Mr. Wright! I
+can't stand the suspense much more!"
+
+Her voice broke, and she turned her face away.
+
+"You must be brave, Miss Trevert," said the boy, putting his hand on her
+shoulder. "Don't ask me to tell you more now. Your friends are working
+to get at the truth ..."
+
+"The truth!" cried the girl. "God knows where the truth will lead us!"
+
+Bruce Wright hesitated a moment.
+
+"I don't think you have any need to fear the truth!" he said presently.
+
+The girl took her handkerchief from her face and looked at him with
+brimming eyes.
+
+"You know more than you let me think you did," she said brokenly. "But
+you are a friend of mine, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes," said Bruce, and added boldly:
+
+"And of his too!"
+
+She did not speak again, but gave him her hand. He clasped it and went
+out hurriedly to catch his train back to London.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+THE SILENT SHOT
+
+That faithful servitor of Fleet Street, the Law Courts clock, had just
+finished striking seven. It boomed out the hour, stroke by stroke,
+solemnly, inexorably, like a grim old judge summing up and driving home,
+point by point, an irrefutable charge. The heavy strokes broke in upon
+the fitful doze into which Robin Greve, stretched out in an armchair in
+his living-room, had dropped.
+
+He roused up with a start. There was the click of a key in the lock of
+his front door. Bruce Wright burst into the room.
+
+The boy shut the door quickly and locked it. He was rather pale and
+seemed perturbed. On seeing Robin he jerked his head in the direction of
+the courtyard.
+
+"I suppose you know they're still outside?" he said.
+
+Robin nodded nonchalantly.
+
+"There are three of them now," the boy went on. "Robin, I don't like it.
+Something's going to happen. You'll want to mind yourself ... if it's
+not too late already!"
+
+He stepped across to the window and bending down, peered cautiously
+round the curtain.
+
+Robin Greve laughed.
+
+"Bah!" he said, "they can't touch me!"
+
+"You're wrong," Bruce retorted without changing his position. "They can
+and they will. Don't think Manderton is a fool, Robin. He means
+mischief ..."
+
+Robin raised his eyebrows.
+
+"Does he?" he said. "Now I wonder who told you that ..."
+
+"Friends of yours at Harkings asked me to warn you ..." began Bruce
+awkwardly.
+
+"My friends are scarcely in the majority there," retorted Robin. "Whom
+do you mean exactly?"
+
+But the boy ignored the question.
+
+"Three men watching the house!" he exclaimed; "don't you think that
+_this_ looks as though Manderton meant business?"
+
+He returned to his post of observation at the curtain.
+
+Robin laughed cynically.
+
+"Manderton doesn't worry me any," he said cheerfully. "The man's the
+victim of an _idee fixe_. He believes Parrish killed himself just as
+firmly as he believes that I frightened or bullied Parrish into doing
+it ..."
+
+"Don't be too sure about that, Robin," said the boy, dropping the
+curtain and coming back to Robin's chair. "He may want you to think
+that. But how can we tell how much he knows?"
+
+Robin flicked the ash off his cigarette disdainfully.
+
+"These promoted policemen make me tired," he said.
+
+Bruce Wright shook his head quickly with a little gesture of
+exasperation.
+
+"You don't understand," he said. "There's fresh evidence ..."
+
+Robin Greve looked up with real interest in his eyes. His bantering
+manner had vanished.
+
+"You've got that letter?" he asked eagerly.
+
+Bruce shook his head.
+
+"No, not that," he said. Then leaning forward he added in a low voice:
+
+"Have you ever heard of the Maxim silencer?"
+
+"I believe I have, vaguely," replied Robin. "Isn't it something to do
+with a motor engine?"
+
+"No," said Bruce. "It's an extraordinary invention which absolutely
+suppresses the noise of the discharge of a gun."
+
+Robin shot a quick glance at the speaker.
+
+"Go on," he said.
+
+"It's a marvelous thing, really," the boy continued, warming to his
+theme. "A man at Havre had one when I was at the base there, during the
+war. It's a little cup-shaped steel fitting that goes over the barrel.
+You can fire a rifle fitted with one of these silencers in a small room
+and it makes no more noise than a fairly loud sneeze ..."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+Robin was listening intently now.
+
+"Parrish had a Maxim silencer," Bruce went on impressively.
+
+"_Parrish_ had?"
+
+"It was fitted on his automatic pistol, the one he had in his hand when
+they found him ..."
+
+"There was no attachment of any kind on the gun Parrish was holding when
+he was discovered yesterday afternoon," declared Robin positively; "I
+can vouch for that. I was there almost immediately after they found him.
+And if there had been anything of the kind Horace Trevert would
+certainly have mentioned it ..."
+
+"I know. Jay, who came in soon after you, was surprised to see that the
+silencer was not on the pistol. And he made a point of looking for it ..."
+
+"But how do you know that Parrish had it on the pistol?..."
+
+"Well, we don't know for certain. But we do know that it was permanently
+fitted to his automatic. Jay has often seen it. And if Parrish did
+remove it, he didn't leave it lying around any where. Jay has looked
+all through his things without finding it ..."
+
+"When did Jay see it last?"
+
+"On Thursday!"
+
+"But are you sure that this is the same pistol as the one which Jay has
+been in the habit of seeing?"
+
+"Jay is absolutely sure. He says that Parrish only had the one automatic
+which he always kept in the same drawer in his dressing-room ..."
+
+Robin was silent for a moment. Very deliberately he filled his pipe, lit
+it, and drew until it burned comfortably. Then he said slowly:
+
+"This means that Hartley Parrish was murdered, Bruce, old man. All
+through I have been puzzling my mind to reconcile the unquestionable
+circumstance that two bullets were fired--I told you of the bullet mark
+I found on the upright in the rosery--with the undoubted fact that only
+one report was heard. We can therefore presume, either that Hartley
+Parrish first fired one shot from his pistol with the silencer fitted
+and then removed the silencer and fired another shot without it, thereby
+killing himself, or that the second shot was fired by the person whose
+interest it was to get rid of the silencer. There is no possible or
+plausible reason why Parrish should have fired first one shot with the
+silencer and then one without. Therefore, I find myself irresistibly
+compelled to the conclusion that the shot heard by Mary Trevert was
+fired by the person who killed Parrish. Do I make myself clear?"
+
+"Perfectly," answered Bruce.
+
+"Now, then," the barrister proceeded, thoughtfully puffing at his pipe,
+"one weak point about my deductions is that they all hang on the
+question as to whether, at the time of the tragedy, Parrish actually had
+the silencer on his pistol or not. That is really the acid test of
+Manderton's suicide theory. You said, I think, that a rifle fired with
+the silencer attachment makes no more noise than the sound of a loud
+sneeze!"
+
+"That's right," agreed Bruce; "a sort of harsh, spluttering noise. Not
+so loud either, Robin. Ph ... t-t-t! Like that!"
+
+"Loud enough to be heard through a door, would you say?"
+
+"Oh, I think so!"
+
+Robin thought intently for a moment.
+
+"Then Mary is the only one who can put us right on that point. Assuming
+that two shots were fired--and that bullet mark in the rosery is, I
+think, conclusive on that head--and knowing that she heard the loud
+report of the one, presumably, if Parrish had the silencer on his
+automatic, Mary must have heard the _muffled_ report of the other. What
+it comes to is this, Mary heard the shot fired that killed Parrish. Did
+she hear the shot he fired at his murderer?"
+
+"By Gad!" exclaimed Bruce Wright impressively, "I believe you've got it,
+Robin! Parrish fired at somebody at the window--a silent shot--and the
+other fellow fired back the shot that Mary Trevert heard, the shot that
+killed Parrish. Isn't that the way you figure it out?"
+
+"Not so fast, young man," remarked Robin. "Let's first find out whether
+Mary actually heard the muffled shot and, if so, _when ... before_ or
+_after_ the loud report."
+
+He glanced across at the window and then at Bruce,
+
+"I suppose this discovery about the silencer is responsible for the
+deputation waiting in the courtyard," he said drily.
+
+"The police don't know about it yet," replied Bruce; "at least they
+didn't when I left."
+
+Robin shook his head dubiously.
+
+"If the servants know it, Manderton will worm it out of them. Hasn't he
+cross-examined Jay?"
+
+"Yes," said Bruce. "But he got nothing out of him about this. Manderton
+seems to have put everybody's back up. He gets nothing out of the
+servants ..."
+
+"If Parrish had had this silencer for some time, you may be sure that
+other people know about it. These silencers must be pretty rare in
+England. You see, an average person like myself didn't know what it was.
+By the way, another point which we haven't yet cleared up is this:
+supposing we are right in believing Parrish to have been murdered, how
+do you explain the fact that the bullet removed from his body fitted his
+pistol?"
+
+"That's a puzzler, I must say!" said Bruce.
+
+"There's only one possible explanation, I think," Robin went on, "and
+that is that Parrish was shot by a pistol of exactly the same calibre as
+his own. For the murderer to have killed Parrish with his own weapon
+would have been difficult without a struggle. But Miss Trevert heard no
+struggle. For murderer and his victim to have pistols of the same
+calibre argues a rather remarkable coincidence, I grant you. But then
+life is full of coincidences! We meet them every day in the law. Though,
+I admit, this is a coincidence which requires some explaining ..."
+
+He fell into a brown study which Bruce interrupted by suddenly
+remembering that he had had no lunch.
+
+For answer Robin pointed at the sideboard.
+
+"There's a cloth in there," he said, "also the whisky, if my laundress
+has left any, and a siphon and there should be some claret--Mrs. Bragg
+doesn't care about red wine. Set the table, and I'll take a root round
+in the kitchen and dig up some tinned stuff."
+
+They supped off a tinned tongue and some _pate de foie gras_. Over their
+meal Bruce told Robin of his adventure in the library at Harkings.
+
+"Jeekes must have collected that letter," Bruce said. "Before I came to
+you, I went to Lincoln's Inn Fields to see if he was still at Bardy's--
+Parrish's solicitor, you know. But the office was closed, and the place
+in darkness. I went on to the Junior Pantheon, that's Jeekes's club, but
+he wasn't in. He hadn't been there all day, the porter told me. So I
+left a note asking him to ring you up here ..."
+
+"The case reeks of blackmail," said Robin thoughtfully, "but I am
+wondering how much we shall glean from this precious letter when we do
+see it. I am glad you asked Jeekes to ring me up, though. He should be
+able to tell us something about these mysterious letters on the blue
+paper that used to put Parrish in such a stew ... Hullo, who can that
+be?"
+
+An electric bell trilled through the flat. It rang once ... twice ...
+and then a third time, a long, insistent peal.
+
+"See who's there, will you, Bruce?" said Robin.
+
+"Suppose it's the police ..." began the boy.
+
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You can say I'm at home and ask them in," he said.
+
+He heard the heavy oaken door swing open, a murmur of voices in the
+hall. The next moment Detective-Inspector Manderton entered the
+sitting-room,
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+MR. MANDERTON LAYS HIS CARDS ON THE TABLE
+
+The detective's manner had undergone some subtle change which Robin,
+watching him closely as he came into the room, was quick to note. Mr.
+Manderton made an effort to retain his old air of rather patronizing
+swagger; but he seemed less sure of himself than was his wont. In fact,
+he appeared to be a little anxious.
+
+He walked briskly into the sitting-room and looked quickly from Bruce to
+Robin.
+
+"Mr. Greve," he said, "you can help me if you will by answering a few
+questions ..."
+
+With another glance at Bruce Wright he added:
+
+"... in private."
+
+Bruce, obedient to a sign from Robin, said he would ring up in the
+morning and prepared to take his leave. Robin turned to the detective.
+
+"There are some of your men, I believe," he said coldly, "watching this
+house. Would it be asking too much to request that my friend here might
+be permitted to return home unescorted?"
+
+"He needn't worry," replied Manderton with a significant smile.
+"There's no one outside now!..."
+
+They watched Bruce Wright pass into the hall and collect his hat and
+coat. As the front door slammed behind him, the detective added:
+
+"I took 'em off myself soon after seven o'clock!"
+
+"Why?" asked Robin bluntly.
+
+Mr. Manderton dropped his heavy form into a chair.
+
+"I'm a plain man, Mr. Greve," he said, "and I'm not above owning to it,
+I hope, when I'm wrong. For some little time now it has struck me that
+our lines of investigation run parallel ..."
+
+"Instead of crossing!"
+
+"Instead of crossing--exactly!"
+
+"It's a pity you did not grasp that very obvious fact earlier," observed
+Robin pointedly.
+
+Mr. Manderton crossed one leg over the other and, his finger-tips
+pressed together, looked at Robin.
+
+"Will you help me?" he asked simply.
+
+"Do you want my help?"
+
+Mr. Manderton nodded.
+
+"Allies, then?"
+
+"Allies it is!"
+
+Robin pointed to the table.
+
+"It's dry work talking," he said. "Won't you take a drink?"
+
+"Thanks, I don't drink. But I'll have a cigar if I may. Thank you!"
+
+The detective helped himself to a cheroot from a box on the table and
+lit up. Then, affecting to scan the end of his cigar with great
+attention, he asked abruptly:
+
+"What do you know of the woman calling herself Madame de Malpas?"
+
+Robin pursed up his lips rather disdainfully.
+
+"One of the late Mr. Parrish's lady friends," he replied. "I expect you
+know that!"
+
+"Do you know where she lives?" pursued the detective, ignoring the
+implied question.
+
+"She's dead."
+
+A flicker of interest appeared for an instant in Mr. Manderton's keen
+eyes.
+
+"You're sure of that?"
+
+"Certainly," answered Robin.
+
+"Who told you?"
+
+"Le Hagen--the solicitor, you know. He acted for this Malpas woman on
+one or two occasions."
+
+"When did she die?"
+
+"Six or seven months ago ..."
+
+"Did Jeekes know about it?"
+
+"Jeekes? Do you mean Parrish's secretary?
+
+"It's funny your asking that. As a matter of fact, it was through Jeekes
+that I heard the lady was dead. I was in Le Hagen's office one day when
+Jeekes came in, and Le Hagen told me Jeekes had come to pay in a cheque
+for the cost of the funeral and the transport of the body to France."
+
+"This was six or seven months ago, you say? I take it, then, that any
+allowance that Parrish was in the habit of making to this woman has
+ceased?"
+
+"I tell you the lady is dead!"
+
+"Then what would you say if I informed you that Mr. Jeekes had declared
+that these payments were still going on ..."
+
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I should say he was lying ..."
+
+"I agree. But why?"
+
+"Whom did he tell this to?"
+
+"Miss Trevert!"
+
+"Miss Trevert?"
+
+Robin repeated the name in amazement.
+
+"I don't understand," he said. "Why on earth should Jeekes blacken his
+employer's character to Miss Trevert? What conceivable motive could he
+have had? Did she tell you this?"
+
+"No," said Manderton; "I heard him tell her myself."
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," protested Robin, growing more and more
+puzzled, "that Jeekes told Miss Trevert this offensive and deliberate
+lie in your presence!"
+
+"Well," remarked Mr. Manderton slowly, "I don't know about his saying
+this in my presence exactly. But I heard him tell her for all that.
+Walls have ears, you know--particularly if the door is ajar!"
+
+He looked shrewdly at Robin, then dropped his eyes to the floor.
+
+"He also told her that Le Hagen and you were in business relations ..."
+
+Robin sat up at this.
+
+"Ah!" he said shortly. "I see what you're getting at now. Our friend has
+been trying to set Miss Trevert against me, eh? But why? I don't even
+know this man Jeekes except to have nodded 'Good-morning' to him a few
+times. Why on earth should he of all men go out of his way to slander me
+to Miss Trevert, to throw suspicion ..."
+
+He broke off short and looked at the detective.
+
+Mr. Manderton caressed his big black moustache.
+
+"Yes," he repeated suavely, "you were saying 'to cast suspicion' ..."
+
+The eyes of the two men met. Then the detective leaned back in his
+chair and, blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips, said:
+
+"Mr. Greve, you've been thinking ahead of me on this case. What you've
+told me so far I've checked. And you're right. Dead right. And since
+you're, in a manner of speaking, one of the parties interested in
+getting things cleared up, I'd like you to tell me just simply what idea
+you've formed about it ..."
+
+"Gladly," answered the barrister. "And to start with let me tell you
+that the case stinks of blackmail ..."
+
+"Steady on," interposed the detective. "I thought so, too, at first.
+I've been into all that. Mr. Parrish made a clean break with the last of
+his lady friends about two months since; and, as far as our
+investigations go, there has been no blackmail in connection with any of
+his women pals. Vine Street knows all about Master Parrish. There were
+complaints about some of his little parties up in town. But I don't
+believe there's a woman in this case ..."
+
+"I didn't say there was," retorted Robin. "The blackmail is probably
+being levied from Holland. A threat of violence was finally carried into
+effect on Saturday evening between 5 and 5.15 P.M. by some one
+conversant with the lie of the land at Harkings. This individual, armed
+with an automatic Browning of the same calibre as Mr. Parrish's, shot
+at Parrish through the open window of the library and killed
+him--probably in self-defence, after Parrish had had a shot at him ..."
+
+"Steady there, whoa!" said Mr. Manderton in a jocular way clearly
+expressive of his incredulity; "there was only one shot ..."
+
+"There were _two_," was Robin's dispassionate reply. "Though maybe only
+one was heard. Parrish had a Maxim silencer on his gun ..."
+
+Mr. Manderton was now thoroughly alert.
+
+"How did you find that out?" he asked.
+
+"Jay, Parrish's man, came forward and volunteered this evidence ..."
+
+"He said nothing about it when I questioned him," grumbled the
+detective.
+
+Robin laughed.
+
+"You're a terror to the confirmed criminal, they tell me, Manderton," he
+said, "but you obviously don't understand that complicated mechanism
+known as the domestic servant. No servant at Harkings will voluntarily
+tell _you_ anything ..."
+
+Mr. Manderton, who had stood up, shook his big frame impatiently.
+
+"Explain the rest of your theories," he said harshly. "What's all this
+about blackmail being levied from Holland?"
+
+Then Robin Greve told him of the letters written on the slatey-blue
+paper and of their effect upon Parrish, and of the letter headed, "Elias
+van der Spyck & Co., General Importers, Rotterdam," which had lain on
+the desk in the library when Parrish's dead body had been found.
+
+Manderton nodded gloomily.
+
+"It was there right enough," he remarked. "I saw it. A letter about
+steel shipments and the dockers' strike, wasn't it? As there seemed
+nothing to it, I left it with the other papers for Jeekes, the secretary
+chap. But what evidence is there that this was blackmail?"
+
+"This," said Robin, and showed the detective the sheet of blue paper
+with its series of slits. "Manderton," he said, "these letters written
+on this blue paper were in code, I feel sure. Why should not this be the
+key? You see it bears a date--'Nov. 25.' May it not refer to that
+letter? I found it by Parrish's body on the carpet in the library. I
+would have given it to you at Harkings, but I shoved it in my pocket and
+forgot all about it until I was in the train coming up to town this
+morning."
+
+Mr. Manderton took the sheet of paper, turned it over, and held it up to
+the light. Then, without comment, he put it away in the pocket of his
+jacket.
+
+"If Parrish killed himself," Robin went on earnestly, "that letter drove
+him to it. If, on the other hand, he was murdered, may not that letter
+have contained a warning?"
+
+"I should prefer to suspend judgment until we've seen the letter, Mr.
+Greve," said the detective bluntly. "We must get it from Jeekes. In the
+meantime, what makes you think that the murderer (to follow up your
+theory) was conversant with the lay of the land at Harkings?"
+
+"Because," answered Robin, "the murderer left no tracks on the grass or
+flower-beds. He stuck to the hard gravel path throughout. That path,
+which runs from the drive through the rosery to the gravel path round
+the house just under the library window, is precious hard to find in the
+dark, especially where it leaves the drive, as at the outset it is a
+mere thread between the rhododendron bushes. And, as I know from
+experience, unless you are acquainted with the turns in the path, it is
+very easy to get off it in the dark, especially in the rosery, and go
+blundering on to the flower-beds. And I'll tell you something else about
+the murderer. He--or she--was of small stature--not much above five
+foot six in height. The upward diagonal course of the bullet through
+Parrish's heart shows that ..."
+
+Mr. Manderton shook his head dubiously.
+
+"Very ingenious," he commented. "But you go rather fast, Mr. Greve. We
+must test your theory link by link. There may be an explanation for
+Jeekes's apparently inexplicable lie to the young lady. Let's see him
+and hear what he says. The grounds at Harkings must be searched for this
+second bullet, if second bullet there is, the mark on the tree examined
+by an expert. And since two bullets argue two pistols in this case, let
+us see what result we get from our enquiries as to where Mr. Parrish
+bought his pistol. He may have had two pistols ..."
+
+"If Parrish used a silencer," remarked Robin, quite undisconcerted by
+the other's lack of enthusiasm, "and my theory that two shots were fired
+is correct, there must have been two reports, a loud one and a muffled
+one. Miss Trevert heard one report, as we know. Did she hear a second?"
+
+"She said nothing about it," remarked the detective.
+
+"She was probably asked nothing about it. But we can get this point
+cleared up at once. There's the telephone. Ring up Harkings and ask her
+now."
+
+"Why not?" said Mr. Manderton and moved to the telephone.
+
+There is little delay on the long-distance lines on a Sunday evening,
+and the call to Harkins came through almost at once. Bude answered the
+telephone at Harkings. Manderton asked for Miss Trevert. The butler
+replied that Miss Trevert was no longer at Harkings. She had gone to the
+Continent for a few days.
+
+This plain statement, retailed in the fortissimo voice which Bude
+reserved for use on the telephone, produced a remarkable effect on the
+detective. He grew red in the face.
+
+"What's that?" he cried assertively. "Gone to the Continent? I should
+have been told about this. Why wasn't I informed? What part of the
+Continent has she gone to?"
+
+Mr. Manderton's questions, rapped out with a rasping vigour that
+recalled a machine-gun firing, brought Robin to his feet in an instant.
+He crossed over to the desk on which the telephone stood.
+
+Manderton placed one big palm over the transmitter and turned to Robin.
+
+"She's gone to the Continent and left no address," he said quickly.
+
+"Ask him if Lady Margaret is there," suggested Robin.
+
+Mr. Manderton spoke into the telephone again. Lady Margaret had gone to
+bed, Bude answered, and her ladyship was much put out by Miss Trevert
+gallivanting off like that by herself with only a scribbled note left to
+say that she had gone.
+
+Had Bude got the note?
+
+No, Mr. Manderton, sir, he had not. But Lady Margaret had shown it to
+him. It had simply stated that Miss Trevert had gone off to the
+Continent and would be back in a few days.
+
+Again the detective turned to Robin at his elbow.
+
+"These country bumpkins!" he said savagely. "I must go to the Yard and
+get Humphries on the 'phone. He may have telegraphed me about it. You
+stay here and I'll ring you later if there's any news. What do you make
+of it, Mr. Greve?"
+
+"It beats me," was Robin's rueful comment. "And what about the inquest?
+It's for Tuesday, isn't it? Miss Trevert will have to give evidence, I
+take it?..."
+
+"Oh," said Mr. Manderton, picking up his hat and speaking in an offhand
+way, "I'm getting _that_ adjourned for a week!"
+
+"The inquest adjourned! Why?"
+
+There was a twinkle in the detective's eye as he replied.
+
+"I thought, maybe, I might get further evidence ..."
+
+Robin caught the expression and smiled.
+
+"And when did you come to this decision, may I ask?"
+
+"After our little experiment in the garden this morning," was the
+detective's prompt reply.
+
+Robin looked at him fixedly.
+
+"But, see here," he said, "apparently it was to the deductions you
+formed from the result of that experiment that I owe the attentions of
+your colleagues who have been hanging round the house all day. And yet
+you now come to me and invite my assistance. Mr. Manderton, I don't get
+it at all!"
+
+"Mr. Greve," replied the detective, "Miss Trevert tried to shield you.
+That made me suspicious. You tried to force my investigations into an
+entirely new path. That deepened my suspicions. I believed it to be my
+duty to ascertain your movements after leaving Harkings. But then I
+heard Jeekes make an apparently gratuitously false statement to Miss
+Trevert with an implication against you. That, to some extent, cleared
+you in my eyes. I say 'to some extent' because I will not deny that I
+thought I might be taking a risk in coming to you like this. You see I
+am frank!..."
+
+The smile had left Greve's face and he looked rather grim.
+
+"You're pretty deep, aren't you?" was his brief comment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+THE CODE KING
+
+Major Euan MacTavish was packing. A heavy and well-worn leather
+portmanteau, much adorned with foreign luggage labels, stood in the
+centre of the floor. From a litter of objects piled up on a side table
+the Major was transferring to it various brown-paper packages which he
+checked by a list in his hand.
+
+The Major always packed for himself. He packed with the neatness and
+rapidity derived from long experience of travel. As a matter of fact, he
+could not afford a manservant any more than he could allow himself
+quarters more luxurious than the rather grimy bedroom in Bury Street
+which housed him during his transient appearances in town. The
+remuneration doled out by the Foreign Office to the quiet and
+unobtrusive gentlemen known as King's messengers is, in point of fact,
+out of all proportion to the prestige and glamour surrounding the silver
+greyhound badge, an example of which was tucked away in a pocket of the
+Major's blue serge jacket hanging over the back of a chair.
+
+"Let's see," said the Major, addressing a large brown-paper covered
+package standing in the corner of the room, "you're the bird-cage for
+Lady Sylvia at The Hague. Two pounds of candles for Mrs. Harry Deepdale
+at Berlin; the razor blades for Sir Archibald at Prague; the Teddy bear
+for Marjorie; polo-balls for the Hussars at Constantinople--there! I
+think that's the lot! Hullo, hullo, who the devil's that?"
+
+With a groaning of wires a jangling bell tinkled through the hall (the
+Major's bedroom was on the ground floor). Sims, the aged ex-butler, who,
+with his wife, "did for" his lodgers in more ways than one, was out and
+the single servant-maid had her Sunday off. Euan MacTavish glanced at
+his wrist watch. It showed the hour to be ten minutes past nine. A
+flowered silk smoking-coat over his evening clothes and a briar pipe in
+his mouth, he went out into the hall and opened the front door.
+
+It was a drenching night. The lamps from a taxi which throbbed dully in
+the street outside the house threw a gleaming band of light on the
+shining pavement. At the door stood a taxi-driver.
+
+"There's a lady asking for Major MacTavish," he said, pointing at the
+cab. The Major stepped across to the cab and opened the door.
+
+"Oh, Euan," said a girl's voice, "how lucky I am to catch you!"
+
+"Why, Mary," exclaimed the Major, "what on earth brings you round to me
+on a night like this? I only came up from the country this afternoon and
+I'm off for Constantinople in the morning!"
+
+"Euan," said Mary Trevert, "I want to talk to you. Where can we talk?"
+
+The Major raised his eyebrows. He was a little man with grizzled hair
+and finely cut, rather sharp features.
+
+"Well," he remarked, "there's not a soul in the house, and I've only got
+a bedroom here. Though we're cousins, Mary, my dear, I don't know that
+you ought to...."
+
+"You're a silly old-fashioned old dear," exclaimed the girl, "and I'm
+coming in. No, I'll keep the cab. We shall want it!"
+
+"All right," said the Major, helping her to alight. "I tell you what.
+We'll go into Harry Prankhurst's sitting-room. He's away for the
+week-end, anyway!"
+
+He took Mary Trevert into a room off the hall and switched on the
+electric light. Then for the first time he saw how pale she looked.
+
+"My dear," he said, "I know what an awful shock you've had...."
+
+"You've heard about it?"
+
+"I saw it in the Sunday papers. I was going to write to you."
+
+"Euan," the girl began in a nervous, hasty way, "I have to go to Holland
+at once. There is not a moment to lose. I want you to help me get my
+passport viseed."
+
+"But, my dear girl," exclaimed the Major, aghast, "you can't go to
+Holland like this alone. Does your mother know about it?"
+
+The girl shook her head.
+
+"It's no good trying to stop me, Euan," she declared. "I mean to go,
+anyway. As a matter of fact, Mother doesn't know. I merely left word
+that I had gone to the Continent for a few days. Nobody knows about
+Holland except you. And if you won't help me I suppose I shall have to
+go to Harry Tadworth at the Foreign Office. I came to you first because
+he's always so stuffy ..."
+
+Euan MacTavish pushed the girl into a chair and gave her a cigarette. He
+lit it for her and took one himself. His pipe had vanished into his
+pocket.
+
+"Of course, I'll help you," he said. "Now, tell me all about it!"
+
+"Before ... this happened I had promised Hartley Parrish to marry him,"
+began the girl. "The doctors say his nerves were wrong. I don't believe
+a word of it. He was full of the joy of life. He was very fond of me. He
+was always talking of what we should do when we were married. He never
+would have killed himself without some tremendously powerful motive.
+Even then I can't believe it possible ..."
+
+She made a little nervous gesture.
+
+"After he ... did it," she went on, "I found this letter on his desk. It
+came to him from Holland. I mean to see the people who wrote it and
+discover if they can throw any light on ... on ... the affair ..."
+
+She had taken from her muff a letter, folded in four, written on paper
+of a curious dark slatey-blue colour.
+
+"Won't you show me the letter?"
+
+"You promise to say nothing about it to any one?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Of course."
+
+Without a word the girl gave him the letter. With slow deliberation he
+unfolded it. The letter was typewritten and headed: "Elias van der Spyck
+& Co. General Importers, Rotterdam."
+
+This was the letter:
+
+  ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+  GENERAL IMPORTERS
+  ROTTERDAM Rotterdam 25th Nov.
+
+  _Codes_
+  A.B.C.
+  Liebler's
+
+  _Personal_
+  Dear Mr. Parrish,
+
+  Your favor of even date to hand and contents
+  noted. The last delivery of steel was to time but we have had
+  warning from the railway authorities that labour troubles at the
+  docks are likely to delay future consignments. If you don't
+  mind we should prefer to settle the question of future
+  delivery by Nov. 27 as we have a board meeting on the 30th
+  inst. While we fully appreciate your own difficulties with
+  labour at home, you will understand that this is a question
+  which we cannot afford to adjourn _sine die_.
+
+  Yours faithfully,
+  pro ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+
+The signature was illegible.
+
+Euan MacTavish folded the letter again and handed it back to Mary.
+
+"That doesn't take me any farther," he said. "What do the police think
+of it?"
+
+"They haven't seen it," was the girl's reply. "I took it without them
+knowing. I mean to make my own investigations about this ..."
+
+"But, my dear Mary," exclaimed the little Major in a shocked voice, "you
+can't do things that way! Don't you see you may be hindering the course
+of justice? The police may attach the greatest importance to this
+letter ..."
+
+"You're quite right," retorted the girl, "they do!"
+
+"Then why have you kept it from them?"
+
+Mary Trevert dropped her eyes and a little band of crimson flushed into
+her cheeks.
+
+"Because," she commenced, "because ... well, because they are trying to
+implicate a friend of mine ..."
+
+The Major took the girl's hand.
+
+"Mary," he said, "I've known you all your life. I've knocked about a
+good bit and know something of the world, I believe. Suppose you tell me
+all about it ..."
+
+Mary Trevert hesitated. Then she said, her hands nervously toying with
+her muff:
+
+"We believe that Robin Greve--you know whom I mean--had a conversation
+with Hartley just before he ... he shot himself. That very afternoon
+Robin had asked me to marry him, but I told him about my engagement. He
+said some awful things about Hartley and rushed away. Ten minutes later
+Hartley Parrish committed suicide. And there _was_ some one talking to
+him in the library. Bude, the butler, heard the voices. This afternoon I
+went down to the library alone ... to see if I could discover anything
+likely to throw any light on poor Hartley's death. This was the only
+letter I could find. It was tucked away between two letter-trays. One
+tray fitted into the other, and this letter had slipped between. It
+seems to have been overlooked both by Mr. Parrish's secretary and the
+police ..."
+
+"But I confess," argued the Major, "that I don't see how this letter,
+which appears to be a very ordinary business communication, implicates
+anybody at all. Why shouldn't the police see it?..."
+
+"Because," said Mary, "directly after discovering it I found Bruce
+Wright, who used to be one of Mr. Parrish's private secretaries, hiding
+behind the curtains in the library. Now, Bruce Wright is a great friend
+of Robin Greve's, and I immediately suspected that Robin had sent him
+to Harkings, particularly as ..."
+
+"As what?..."
+
+"As he practically admitted to me, that he had come for a letter written
+on slatey-blue official-looking paper."
+
+The girl held up the letter from Rotterdam.
+
+"All this," the girl continued, "made me think that this letter must
+have had something to do with Hartley's death ..."
+
+"Surely an additional reason for giving it to the police!..."
+
+Mary Trevert set her mouth in an obstinate line.
+
+"No!" she affirmed uncompromisingly. "The police believe that, as the
+result of a scene between Hartley and Robin, Hartley killed himself.
+Until I've found out for certain whether this letter implicates Robin or
+not, I sha'n't give it to the police ..."
+
+"But, if Greve really had nothing to do with this shocking tragedy, the
+police can very easily clear him. Surely they are the best judges of his
+guilt ..."
+
+Again a touch of warm colour suffused the girl's cheeks. Euan MacTavish
+remarked it and looked at her wistfully.
+
+"Well, well," he observed gently, "perhaps they're not, after all!"
+
+The girl looked up at him.
+
+"Euan, dear," she said impulsively, "I knew you'd understand. Robin and
+Hartley may have had a row, but it was nothing worse. Robin is incapable
+of having threatened--blackmailed--Hartley, as the police seem to
+imagine. I am greatly upset by it all; I can't see things clear at all;
+but I'm determined not to give the police a weapon like this to use
+against Robin until I know whether it is sharp or blunt, until I have
+found out what bearing, if any, this letter had on Hartley Parrish's
+death ..."
+
+Euan MacTavish leant back in his chair and said nothing. He finished his
+cigarette, pitched the butt into the fender, and turned to Mary. He
+asked her to let him see the letter again. Once more he read it over.
+Then, handing it back to her, he said:
+
+"It's all so simple-looking that there may well be something behind it.
+But, if you do go to Holland, how are you going to set about your
+enquiries?"
+
+"That's where you can help me, Euan, dear," answered the girl. "I want
+to find somebody at Rotterdam who will help me to make some confidential
+enquiries about this firm. Do you know any one? An Englishman would be
+best, of course ..."
+
+But Euan MacTavish was halfway to the door.
+
+"Wait there," he commanded, "till I telephone the one man in the world
+who can help us."
+
+He vanished into the hall where Mary heard him at the instrument.
+
+"We are going round to the Albany," he said, "to see my friend, Ernest
+Dulkinghorn, of the War Office. He can help us if any one can. But,
+Mary, you must promise me one thing before we go ... you must agree to
+do what old Ernest tells you. You needn't be afraid. He is the most
+unconventional of men, capable of even approving this madcap scheme of
+yours!"
+
+"I agree," said Mary, "but how you waste time, Euan! We could have been
+at the Albany by this time!"
+
+In a first-floor oak-panelled suite at the Albany, overlooking the
+covered walk that runs from Piccadilly to Burlington Gardens, they found
+an excessively fair, loose-limbed man whose air of rather helpless
+timidity was heightened by a pair of large tortoise-shell spectacles. He
+appeared excessively embarrassed at the sight of MacTavish's extremely
+good-looking companion.
+
+"You never told me you were bringing a lady, Euan," he said
+reproachfully, "or I should have attempted to have made myself more
+presentable."
+
+He looked down at his old flannel suit and made an apologetic gesture
+which took in the table littered with books and papers and the sofa on
+which lay a number of heavy tomes with marked slips sticking out between
+the pages.
+
+"I am working at a code," he explained.
+
+"Ernest here," said MacTavish, turning to Mary, "is the code king. Your
+pals in the Intelligence tell me, Ernest, that you've never been beaten
+by a code ..."
+
+The fair man laughed nervously.
+
+"They've been pullin' your leg, Euan," he said.
+
+"Don't you believe him, Mary," retorted her cousin. "This is the man who
+probably did more than any one man to beat the Boche. Whenever the
+brother Hun changed his code, Brother Ernest was called in and he
+produced a key in one, two, three!..."
+
+"What rot you talk, Euan!" said Dulkinghorn. "Working out a code is a
+combination of mathematics, perseverance, and inspiration with a good
+slice of luck thrown in! But isn't Miss Trevert going to sit down?"
+
+He cleared the sofa with a sweep of his arm which sent the books flying
+on to the floor.
+
+"Ernest," said MacTavish, "I want you to give Miss Trevert here a
+letter to some reliable fellow in Rotterdam who can assist her in making
+a few enquiries of a very delicate nature!"
+
+"What sort of enquiries?" asked Dulkinghorn bluntly.
+
+"About a firm called Elias van der Spyck," replied Euan.
+
+"Of Rotterdam?" enquired the other sharply.
+
+"That's right! Do you know them?"
+
+"I've heard the name. They do a big business. But hadn't Miss Trevert
+better tell her story herself?"
+
+Mary told him of the death of Hartley Parrish and of the letter she had
+found upon his desk. She said nothing of the part played by Robin Greve.
+
+"Hmph!" said Dulkinghorn. "You think it might be blackmail, eh? Well,
+well, it might be. Have you got this letter about you? Hand it over and
+let's have a look at it."
+
+His nervous manner had vanished. His face seemed to take on a much
+keener expression. He took the letter from Mary and read it through.
+Then he crossed the room to a wall cupboard which he unlocked with a key
+on a chain, produced a small tray on which stood a number of small
+bottles, some paint-brushes and pens, and several little open dishes
+such as are used for developing photographs. He bore the tray to the
+table, cleared a space on a corner by knocking a pile of books and
+papers on the floor, and set it down.
+
+"Just poke the fire!" he said to Euan.
+
+From a drawer in the table he produced a board on which he pinned down
+the letter with a drawing-pin at each corner. Then he dipped a
+paint-brush into one of the bottles and carefully painted the whole
+surface of the sheet with some invisible fluid.
+
+"So!" he said, "we'll leave that to dry and see if we can find out any
+little secrets, eh? That little tray'll do the trick if there's any
+monkey business to this letter of yours, Miss Trevert. That'll do the
+trick, eh, what?"
+
+He paced the room as he talked, not waiting for an answer, but running
+on as though he were soliloquizing. Presently he turned and swooped down
+on the board.
+
+"Nothing," he ejaculated. "Now for the acids!"
+
+With a little piece of sponge he carefully wiped the surface of the
+letter and painted it again with a substance from another bottle.
+
+"Just hold that to the fire, would you, Euan?" he said, and gave
+MacTavish the board. He resumed his pacing, but this time he hummed in
+the most unmelodious voice imaginable:
+
+  She was bright as a butterfly, as fair as a queen,
+  Was pretty little Polly Perkins, of Paddington Green.
+
+"It's dry!"
+
+MacTavish's voice broke in upon the pacing and the discordant song.
+
+"Well?"
+
+Dulkinghorn snapped out the question.
+
+"No result!" said Euan. He handed him the board.
+
+Dulkinghorn cast a glance at it, swiftly removed the letter, held it for
+an instant up to the electric light, fingered the paper for a moment,
+and handed the letter back to Mary.
+
+"If it's code," he said, "it's a conventional code and that always beats
+the expert ... at first. Go to Rotterdam and call on my friend, Mr.
+William Schulz. I'll give you a letter for him and he'll place himself
+entirely at your disposition. Euan will take you over. Holland is on
+your beat, ain't it, Euan? When do you go next?"
+
+"To-morrow," said the King's Messenger. "The boat train leaves Liverpool
+Street at ten o'clock."
+
+"You'll want a passport," said Dulkinghorn, turning to the girl.
+"You've got it there? Good. Leave it with me. You shall have it back
+properly viseed by nine o'clock to-morrow morning. Where are you
+stayin'? Almond's Hotel. Good. I'll send the letter for Mr. William
+Schulz with it!"
+
+"But," Euan interjected mildly, after making several ineffectual efforts
+to stem the torrent of speech, "do you really think that Miss Trevert
+will be well advised to risk this trip to Holland alone? Hadn't the
+police better take the matter in hand?"
+
+"Police be damned!" replied Dulkinghorn heartily. "Miss Trevert will be
+better than a dozen heavy-handed, heavy-footed plain-clothes men. When
+you get to Rotterdam, Miss Trevert, you trot along and call on William
+Schulz. He'll see you through."
+
+Then, to indicate without any possibility of misunderstanding, that his
+work had been interrupted long enough, Dulkinghorn got up, and, opening
+the sitting-room door, led the way into the hall. As he stood with his
+hand on the latch of the front door, Mary Trevert asked him:
+
+"Is this Mr. Schulz an Englishman?"
+
+"I'll let you into a secret," answered Bulkinghorn; "he _was_. But he
+isn't now! No, no, I can't say anything more. You must work it out for
+yourself. But I will give you a piece of advice. The less you say about
+Mr. William Schulz and about your private affairs generally when you are
+on the other side, the better it will be for you! Good-night--and good
+luck!"
+
+Euan MacTavish escorted Mary to Almond's Hotel.
+
+"I'm very much afraid," he said to her as they walked along, "that
+you're butting that pretty head of yours into a wasps' nest, Mary!"
+
+"Nonsense!" retorted the girl decisively; "I can take care of myself!"
+
+"If I consent to let you go off like this," said Euan, "it is only on
+one condition ... you must tell Lady Margaret where you are going ..."
+
+"That'll spoil everything," answered Mary, pouting; "Mother will want to
+come with me!"
+
+"No, she won't," urged her cousin, "not if I tell her. She'll worry
+herself to death, Mary, if she doesn't know what has become of you.
+You'd better let me ring her up from the club and tell her you're
+running over to Rotterdam for a few days. Look here, I'll tell her
+you're going with me. She'll be perfectly happy if she thinks I'm to be
+with you ..."
+
+On that Mary surrendered.
+
+"Have it your own way," she said.
+
+"I'll pick you up here at a quarter-past nine in the morning," said Euan
+as he bade the girl good-night at her hotel, "then we'll run down to
+the F.O. and collect my bags and go on to the station!"
+
+"Euan," the girl asked as she gave him her hand, "who is this man
+Schulz, do you think?"
+
+The King's messenger leant over and whispered:
+
+"Secret Service!"
+
+"Secret Service!"
+
+The girl repeated the words in a hushed voice.
+
+"Then Mr. Dulkinghorn ... is he ... that too?"
+
+Euan nodded shortly.
+
+"One of their leadin' lights!" he answered.
+
+"But, Euan,"--the girl was very serious now,--"what has the Secret
+Service to do with Hartley Parrish's clients in Holland?"
+
+The King's messenger laid a lean finger along his nose.
+
+"Ah!" he said, "what? That's what is beginning to interest me!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+A WORD WITH MR. JEEKES
+
+Life is like a kaleidoscope, that ingenious toy which was the delight of
+the Victorian nursery. Like the glass fragments in its slide, different
+in colour and shape, men's lives lie about without seeming connection;
+then Fate gives the instrument a shake, and behold! the fragments slide
+into position and form an intricate mosaic....
+
+Mark how Fate proceeded on the wet and raw Sunday evening when Bruce
+Wright, at the instance of Mr. Manderton, quitted Robin Greve's chambers
+in the Temple, leaving his friend and the detective alone together. To
+tell the truth, Bruce Wright was in no mood for facing the provincial
+gloom of a wet Sunday evening in London, nor did he find alluring the
+prospect of a suburban supper-party at the quiet house where he lived
+with his widowed mother and sisters in South Kensington. So, in an
+irresolute, unsettled frame of mind, he let himself drift down the
+Strand unable to bring himself to go home or, indeed, to form any plan.
+
+He crossed Trafalgar Square, a nocturne in yellow and black--lights
+reflected yellow in pavements shining dark with wet--and by and by
+found himself in Pall Mall. Here it was that Fate took a hand. At this
+moment it administered a preliminary jog to the kaleidoscope and brought
+the fragment labelled Bruce Wright into immediate proximity with the
+piece entitled Albert Edward Jeekes.
+
+As Bruce Wright came along Pall Mall, he saw Mr. Jeekes standing on the
+steps of his club. The little secretary appeared to be lost in thought,
+his chin thrust down on the crutch-handle of the umbrella he clutched to
+himself. So absorbed was he in his meditations that he did not observe
+Bruce Wright stop and regard him. It was not until our young man had
+touched him on the arm that he looked up with a start.
+
+"God bless my soul!" he exclaimed, "if it isn't young Wright!"
+
+Now the sight of Jeekes had put a great idea into the head of our young
+friend. He had been more chagrined than he had let it appear to Robin
+Greve at his failure to recover the missing letter from the library at
+Harkings. To obtain the letter--or, at any rate, a copy of it--from
+Jeekes and to hand it to Robin Greve would, thought Bruce, restore his
+prestige as an amateur detective, at any rate in his own eyes. Moreover,
+a chat with Jeekes over the whole affair seemed a Heaven-sent exit from
+the _impasse_ of boredom into which he had drifted this wet Sunday
+evening.
+
+"How are you, Mr. Jeekes?" said Bruce briskly. ("Mr." Jeekes was the
+form of address always accorded to the principal secretary in the
+Hartley Parrish establishment and Bruce resumed it instinctively.) "I
+was anxious to see you. I called in at the club this afternoon. Did you
+get my message?"
+
+The little secretary blinked at him through his _pince-nez_.
+
+"There have been so many messages about this shocking affair that really
+I forget ..."
+
+He sighed heavily.
+
+"Couldn't I come in and have a yarn now?"
+
+Bruce spoke cajolingly. But Mr. Jeekes wrinkled his brow fussily.
+
+There was so much to do; he had had a long day; if Wright would excuse
+him ...
+
+"As a matter of fact," explained Bruce with an eye on his man, "I wanted
+to see you particularly about a letter ..."
+
+"Some other time ... to-morrow ..."
+
+"Written on dark-blue paper ... you know, one of those letters H.P. made
+all the fuss about."
+
+Mr. Jeekes took his _pince-nez_ from his nose, gave the glasses a hasty
+rub with his pocket-handkerchief, and replaced them. He slanted a long
+narrow look at the young man.
+
+Then, "What letter do you mean?" he asked composedly.
+
+"A letter which lay on H.P.'s desk in the library at Harkings when they
+found the body ..."
+
+"There _was_ a letter there then ...?"
+
+"Haven't _you_ got it?"
+
+Jeekes shook his head.
+
+"Come inside for a minute and tell me about this," he said.
+
+He led Bruce into the vast smoking-room of the club. They took seats in
+a distant corner near the blazing fire. The room was practically
+deserted.
+
+Now, Mr. Jeekes's excessive carefulness about money had been a
+long-standing joke amongst his assistants when Bruce Wright had belonged
+to Hartley Parrish's secretarial staff. Thrift had become with him more
+than a habit. It was a positive obsession. It revealed itself in such
+petty meannesses as a perpetual cadging for matches or small change and
+a careful abstention from any offer of hospitality. Never in the whole
+course of his service had Bruce Wright heard of Mr. Jeekes taking
+anybody out to lunch or extending any of the usual hospitalities of
+life. He was not a little surprised, therefore, to hear Jeekes ask him
+what he would take.
+
+Bruce said he would take some coffee.
+
+"Have a liqueur? Have a cigar?" said Jeekes, turning to Bruce from the
+somnolent waiter who had answered the bell.
+
+There was a strange eagerness, a sort of over-done cordiality, in the
+invitation which contrasted so strongly with the secretary's habits that
+Robin felt dimly suspicious. He suddenly formed the idea that Mr. Jeekes
+wanted to pump him. He refused the liqueur, but accepted a cigar. Jeekes
+waited until they had been served and the waiter had withdrawn silently
+into the dim vastness of the great room before he spoke.
+
+"Now, then, young Wright," he said, "what's this about a letter? Tell me
+from the beginning ..."
+
+Bruce told him of the letter from Elias van der Spyck & Co. which Robin
+had seen upon the desk in the library at Harkings, of his (Bruce's)
+journey down to Harkings that afternoon and of his failure to find the
+letter.
+
+"But why do you assume that I've got it?"
+
+There was an air of forced joviality about Mr. Jeekes as he put the
+question which did not in the least, as he undoubtedly intended it
+should, disguise his eagerness. On the contrary, it lent his rather
+undistinguished features an expression of cunning which can only be
+described as knavish. Bruce Wright, who, as will already have been seen,
+was a young man with all his wits about him, did not fail to remark it.
+The result was that he hastily revised an intention half-formed in his
+mind of taking Jeekes a little way into his confidence regarding Robin
+Greve's doubts and suspicions about Hartley Parrish's death.
+
+But he answered the secretary's question readily enough.
+
+"Because Miss Trevert told me you went to the library immediately you
+arrived at Harkings last night. I consequently assumed that you must
+have taken away the letter seen by Robin Greve ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes drew in his breath with a sucking sound. It was a little
+trick of his when about to speak.
+
+"So you saw Miss Trevert at Harkings, eh?"
+
+Bruce laughed.
+
+"I did," he said. "We had quite a dramatic meeting, too--it was like a
+scene from a film!"
+
+And, with a little good-humoured exaggeration, he gave Mr. Jeekes a
+description of his encounter with Mary. And lest it should seem that
+young Wright was allowing Mr. Jeekes to pump him, it should be stated
+that Bruce was well aware of one of the secretary's most notable
+characteristics, a common failing, be it remarked, of the small-minded,
+and that was an overpowering suspicion of anything resembling a leading
+question. In order, therefore, to gain his confidence, he willingly
+satisfied the other's curiosity regarding his visit to Harkings hoping
+thereby to extract some information as to the whereabouts of the letter
+on the slatey-blue paper.
+
+"There was no letter of this description on the desk, you say, when you
+and Miss Trevert looked?" asked Jeekes when Bruce had finished his
+story.
+
+"Nothing but circulars and bills," Bruce replied.
+
+Mr. Jeekes leaned forward and drank off his coffee with a swift
+movement. Then he said carelessly:
+
+"From what you tell me, Miss Trevert would have been perhaps a minute
+alone in the room without your seeing her?"
+
+Bruce agreed with a nod.
+
+Adjusting his _pince-nez_ on his nose the secretary rose to his feet.
+
+"Very glad to have seen you again, Wright," he said, thrusting out a
+limp hand; "must run off now--mass of work to get through ..."
+
+Then Bruce risked his leading question.
+
+"If you haven't got this letter," he observed, "what has become of it?
+Obviously the police are not likely to have taken it because they know
+nothing of its significance ..."
+
+"Quite, quite," answered Mr. Jeekes absently, but without replying to
+the young man's question.
+
+"Why," asked Bruce boldly, "did old H.P. make such a mystery about these
+letters on the slatey-blue paper, Mr. Jeekes?"
+
+The secretary wrinkled up his thin lips and sharp nose into a cunning
+smile.
+
+"When you get to be my age, young Wright," he made answer, "you will
+understand that every man has a private side to his life. And, if you
+have learnt your job properly, you will also know that a private
+secretary's first duty is to mind his own business. About this letter
+now--it's the first I've heard of it. Take my advice and don't bother
+your head about it. _If_ it exists ..."
+
+"But it _does_ exist," broke in Bruce quickly. "Mr. Greve saw it and
+read it himself ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes laughed drily.
+
+"Don't you forget, young Wright," he said, jerking his chin towards the
+youngster in a confidential sort of way, "don't you forget that Mr.
+Greve is anxious to find a plausible motive for Mr. Parrish's suicide.
+People are talking, you understand! That's all I've got to say! Just you
+think it over ..."
+
+Bruce Wright bristled up hotly at this.
+
+"I don't see you have any reason to try and impugn Greve's motive for
+wishing to get at the bottom of this mysterious affair ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes affected to be engrossed in the manicuring of his nails. Very
+intently he rubbed the nails of one hand against the palm of the other.
+
+"No mystery!" he said decisively with a shake of the head: "no mystery
+whatsoever about it, young Wright, except what the amateur detectives
+will try and make it out to be. Or has Mr. Greve discovered a mystery
+already?"
+
+The question came out artfully. But in the quick glance which
+accompanied it, there was an intent watchfulness which startled Bruce
+accustomed as he was to the mild and unemotional ways of the little
+secretary.
+
+"Not that I know of," said Bruce. "Greve is only puzzled like all of us
+that H.P. should have done a thing like this!"
+
+Mr. Jeekes was perfectly impassive again.
+
+"The nerves, young Wright! The nerves!" he said impressively. "Harley
+Street, not Mr. Greve, will supply the motive to this sad affair,
+believe me!"
+
+With that he accompanied the young man to the door of the club and from
+the vestibule watched him sally forth into the rain of Pall Mall.
+
+Then Mr. Jeekes turned to the hall porter.
+
+"Please get me Stevenish one-three-seven," he said, "it's a trunk call.
+Don't let them put you off with 'No reply.' It's Harkings, and they are
+expecting me to ring them. I shall be in the writing room."
+
+When, twenty minutes later, Mr. Jeekes emerged from the trunk call
+telephone box in the club vestibule, his mouth was drooping at the
+corners and his hands trembled curiously. He stood for an instant in
+thought tapping his foot on the marble floor of the deserted hall dimly
+lit by a single electric bulb burning over the hall porter's box. Then
+he went back to the writing-room and returned with a yellow telegram
+form.
+
+"Send a boy down to Charing Cross with that at once, please," he said to
+the night porter.
+
+Fate which had brought Bruce Wright face to face with Mr. Jeekes gave
+the kaleidoscope another jerk that night. As Bruce Wright entered the
+Tube Station at Dover Street to go home to South Kensington, it occurred
+to him that he would ring up Robin Greve at his chambers in the Temple
+and give him an outline of his (Bruce's) talk with Jeekes. Bruce went to
+the public callbox in the station, but the rhythmic "Zoom-er! Zoom-er!
+Zoom-er!" which announces that a number is engaged was all the
+satisfaction he got. The prospect of waiting about the draughty station
+exit did not appeal to him, so he decided to go home and telephone
+Robin, as originally arranged, in the morning.
+
+Just about the time that he made this resolve, Robin in his rooms in the
+Temple was hanging up the receiver of his telephone with a dazed
+expression in his eyes. Mr. Manderton had rung him up with a piece of
+intelligence which fairly bewildered him. It bewildered Mr. Manderton
+also, as the detective was frank enough to acknowledge.
+
+Mary Trevert had gone to Rotterdam for a few days in company with her
+cousin, Major Euan MacTavish. Mr. Manderton had received this
+astonishing information by telephone from Harkings a few minutes before.
+
+"It bothers me properly, Mr. Greve, sir," the detective had added.
+
+"There's only one thing for it, Manderton," Robin had said; "I'll have
+to go after her ..."
+
+"The very thing I was about to suggest myself, Mr. Greve. You're
+unofficial-like and can be more helpful than if we detailed one of our
+own people from the Yard. And with the investigation in its present
+stage I don't reely feel justified in going off on a wild-goose chase
+myself. There are several important enquiries going forward now, notably
+as to where Mr. Parrish bought his pistol. But we certainly ought to
+find out what takes Miss Trevert careering off to Rotterdam in this
+way ..."
+
+"It seems almost incredible," Robin had said, "but it looks to me as
+though Miss Trevert must have found out something about the letter ..."
+
+"Or found it herself ..."
+
+"By Jove! She was in the library when Bruce Wright was there. This
+settles it, Manderton. I must go!"
+
+"Then," said the detective, "I'm going to entrust you with that slotted
+sheet of paper again. For I have an idea, Mr. Greve, that you may get a
+glimpse of that letter before I do. I'll send a messenger round with it
+at once."
+
+Then a difficulty arose. Manderton had not got the girl's address. They
+had no address at Harkings. Nor did he know what train Miss Trevert had
+taken. She might have gone by the 9 P.M. that night. Had Mr. Greve got a
+passport? Yes, Robin had a passport, but it was not viseed for Holland.
+That meant he could not leave until the following evening. Then Robin
+had a "brain wave."
+
+"There's an air service to Rotterdam!" he exclaimed. "It doesn't leave
+till noon. A pal of mine went across by it only last week. That will
+leave me time to get my passport stamped at the Dutch Consulate, to
+catch the air mail, and be in Rotterdam by tea-time! And, Manderton, I
+shall go to the Grand Hotel. That's where my friend stopped. Wire me
+there if there's any news ..."
+
+Air travel is so comfortably regulated at the present day that Robin
+Greve, looking back at his trip by air from Croydon Aerodrome to the big
+landing-ground outside Rotterdam, acknowledged that he had more
+excitement in his efforts to stir into action a lethargic Dutch passport
+official in London, so as to enable him to catch the air mail, than in
+the smooth and uneventful voyage across the Channel. He reached
+Rotterdam on a dull and muggy afternoon and lost no time in depositing
+his bag at the Grand Hotel. An enquiry at the office there satisfied him
+that Mary Trevert had not registered her name in the hotel book. Then he
+set out in a taxi upon a dreary round of the principal hotels.
+
+But fate, which loves to make a sport of lovers, played him a scurvy
+trick. In the course of his search it brought Robin to that very hotel
+towards which, at the selfsame moment, Mary Trevert was driving from
+the station. By the time she arrived, Robin was gone and, with despair
+in his heart, had started on a tour of the second-class hotels, checking
+them by the Baedeker he had bought in the Strand that morning. It was
+eight o'clock by the time he had finished. He had drawn a blank.
+
+The sight of a huge, plate-glass-fronted cafe reminded him that in the
+day's rush he had omitted to lunch. So he paid off his taxi and dined
+off succulent Dutch beefsteak, pounded as soft as velvet and swimming
+with butter and served in a bed of deliciously browned 'earth apples,'
+as the Hollaenders call potatoes. The cafe was stiflingly hot; there was
+a large and noisy orchestra in the front part and a vast billiard-saloon
+in the back--a place of shaded lights, clicking balls, and guttural
+exclamations. The heat of the place, the noise and the cries combined
+with the effect of his long journey in the fresh air to make him very
+drowsy. When he had finished dinner he was content to postpone his
+investigations until the morrow and go to bed. Emerging from the cafe he
+found to his relief that his hotel was but a few houses away.
+
+As he sat at breakfast the next morning, enjoying the admirable Dutch
+coffee, he reviewed the situation very calmly but very thoroughly. He
+told himself that he had no indication as to Mary Trevert's business in
+Rotterdam save the supposition that she had found the van der Spyck
+letter and had come to Rotterdam to investigate the matter for herself.
+He realized that the hypothesis was thin, for, in the first place, Mary
+could have no inkling as to the hidden significance of the document,
+and, in the second place, she was undoubtedly under the impression that
+Hartley Parrish was driven to suicide by his (Robin's) threats.
+
+But, in the absence of any other apparent explanation of the girl's
+extraordinary decision to come to Rotterdam, Robin decided he would
+accept the theory that she had come about the van der Spyck letter. How
+like Mary, after all, he mused, self-willed, fearless, independent, to
+rush off to Holland on her own on a quest like this! Where would her
+investigations lead her? To the offices of Elias van der Spyck & Co., to
+be sure! Robin threw his napkin down on the table, thrust back his
+chair, and went off to the hotel porter to locate the address of the
+firm.
+
+The telephone directory showed that the offices were situated in the
+Oranien-Straat, about ten minutes' walk from the hotel, in the business
+quarter of the city round the Bourse. Robin glanced at the clock. It
+was twenty minutes to ten. The principals, he reflected, were not likely
+to be at the office before ten o'clock. It was a fine morning and he
+decided to walk. The hotel porter gave him a few simple directions: the
+gentleman could not miss the way, he said; so Robin started off, hope
+high in his breast of getting a step nearer to the elucidation of the
+mystery of the library at Harkings.
+
+A brisk walk of about ten minutes through the roaring streets of the
+city brought him to a big open square from which, he had been
+instructed, the Oranien-Straat turned off. He was just passing a large
+and important-looking post-office--he remarked it because he looked up
+at a big clock in the window to see the time--when a man came hastily
+through the swing-door and stopped irresolutely on the pavement in
+front, glancing to right and left as a man does who is looking for a
+cab.
+
+At the sight of him Robin could scarcely suppress an expression of
+amazement. It was Mr. Jeekes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+THE MAN WITH THE YELLOW FACE
+
+In a narrow, drowsy side street at Rotterdam, bisected by a somnolent
+canal, stood flush with the red-brick sidewalk a small clean house. Wire
+blinds affixed to the windows of its ground and first floors gave it a
+curious blinking air as though its eyes were only half open. To the neat
+green front door was affixed a large brass plate inscribed with the
+single name: "Schulz."
+
+A large woman, in a pink print dress with a white cloth bound about her
+head, was vigorously polishing the plate as, on the morning following
+her departure from London, Mary Trevert, Dulkinghorn's letter of
+introduction in her pocket, arrived in front of the residence of Mr.
+William Schulz. Euan MacTavish had, on the previous evening, seen her to
+her hotel and had then--very reluctantly, as it seemed to
+Mary--departed to continue his journey to The Hague, his taxi piled high
+with white-and-green Foreign Office bags, heavily sealed with scarlet
+wax.
+
+Mary Trevert approached the woman, her letter of introduction, which
+Dulkinghorn, being an unusual person, had fastened down, in her hand.
+
+"Schulz?" she said interrogatively.
+
+"_Nicht da_," replied the woman without looking up from her rubbing.
+
+"Has he gone out?" asked Mary in English.
+
+"_Verstehe nicht_!" mumbled the woman.
+
+But she put down her cleaning-rag and, breathing heavily, mustered the
+girl with a leisurely stare.
+
+Mary repeated the question in German whereupon the woman brightened up
+considerably.
+
+The _Herr_ was not at home. The _Herr_ had gone out. On business,
+_jawohl_. To the bank, perhaps. But the _Herr_ would be back in time for
+_Mittagessen_ at noon. There was beer soup followed by _Rindfleisch_ ...
+
+Mary hesitated an instant. She was wondering whether she should leave
+her letter of introduction. She decided she would leave it. So she wrote
+on her card: "Anxious to see you as soon as possible" and the name of
+her hotel, and gave it, with the letter, to the woman.
+
+"Please see that Herr Schulz gets that directly he comes in," she said.
+"It is important!"
+
+"_Gut, gut_!" said the woman, wiping her hands on her apron. She took
+the card and letter, and Mary, thanking her, set off to go back to her
+hotel.
+
+About twenty yards from Mr. Schulz's house a narrow alley ran off. As
+Mary turned to regain the little footbridge across the canal to return
+to the noisy street which would take her back to the hotel, she caught
+sight of a man disappearing down this alley.
+
+She only had a glimpse of him, but it was sufficient to startle her
+considerably. He was a small man wearing a tweed cap and a tweed
+travelling ulster of a vivid brown. It was not these details, however,
+which took her aback. It was the fact that in the glimpse she had had of
+the man's face she had seemed to recognize the features of Mr. Albert
+Edward Jeekes.
+
+"What an extraordinary thing!" Mary said to herself. "It _can't_ be Mr.
+Jeekes. But if it is not, it is some one strikingly like him!"
+
+To get another view of the stranger she hurried to the corner of the
+alley. It was a mere thread of a lane, not above six yards wide, running
+between the houses a distance of some sixty yards to the next street.
+But the alley was empty. The stranger had disappeared.
+
+Mary went a little way down the lane. A wooden fence ran down it on
+either side, with doors at intervals apparently giving on the back yards
+of the houses in the street. There was no sign of Mr. Jeekes's double,
+so she retraced her steps and returned to her hotel without further
+incident.
+
+She had not been back more than half an hour when a waiter came in to
+the lounge where she was sitting.
+
+"Miss Trevert?" he said. "Zey ask for you at ze delephone!"
+
+He took her to a cabin under the main staircase.
+
+"This is Miss Trevert speaking!" said Mary.
+
+"I am speaking for Mr. Schulz," a man's voice answered--rather a nasal
+voice with a shade of foreign inflexion--"he has had your letter. He is
+very sorry he has been detained in the country, but would be very glad
+if you would lunch with him to-day at his country-house."
+
+"I shall be very pleased," the girl replied. "Is it far?"
+
+"Only just outside Rotterdam," the voice responded. "Mr. Schulz will
+send the car to the hotel to pick you up at 11.45. The driver will ask
+for you. Is that all right?"
+
+"Certainly," said Mary. "Please thank Mr. Schulz and tell him I will
+expect the car at a quarter to twelve!"
+
+Punctually at the appointed hour an open touring-car drove up to the
+hotel. Mary was waiting at the entrance. The driver was a young Dutchman
+in a blue serge suit. He jumped out and came up to Mary.
+
+"Mees Trevert?" he said.
+
+Mary nodded, whereupon he helped her into the car, then got back into
+the driving-seat and they drove away.
+
+A run of about twenty minutes through trim suburbs brought them out on a
+long straight road, paved with bricks and lined with poplars. The day
+was fine with a little bright sunshine from time to time and a high wind
+which kept the sails of the windmills dotting the landscape turning
+briskly. They followed the road for a bit, then branched off down a side
+turning which led to a black gate. It bore the name "Villa Bergendal" in
+white letters. The gate opened into a short drive fringed by thick
+laurel bushes which presently brought them in view of an ugly square
+red-brick house.
+
+The car drew up at a creeper-hung porch paved in red tiles. The
+chauffeur helped Mary to alight and, pushing open a glass door, ushered
+the girl into a square, comfortably furnished hall. Some handsome
+Oriental rugs were spread about: trophies of native weapons hung on the
+walls, and there were some fine specimens of old Dutch chests and blue
+Delft ware.
+
+The chauffeur led the way across the hall to a door at the far end. As
+Mary followed him, something bright lying on one of the chests caught
+her eye. It was a vivid brown travelling ulster and on it lay a brown
+tweed cap.
+
+Mary Trevert was no fool. She was, on the contrary, a remarkably
+quick-witted young person. The sight of that rather "loud" overcoat
+instantly recalled the stranger so strikingly resembling Mr. Jeekes who
+had disappeared down the lane as she was coming away from Mr. Schulz's
+house. Mr. Jeekes _was_ in Rotterdam then, and had, of course, been sent
+by her mother to look after her. What a fool she had been to allow Euan
+MacTavish to persuade her to tell her mother of her plans!
+
+Mary suddenly felt very angry. How dare Mr. Jeekes spy on her like this!
+She was quite capable, she told herself, of handling her own affairs,
+and she intended to tell the secretary so very plainly. And if, as she
+was beginning to believe, Mr. Schulz were acting hand in glove with Mr.
+Jeekes, she would let him know equally plainly that she had no intention
+of troubling him, but would make her own investigations independently.
+With a heightened colour she followed the chauffeur and passed through
+the door he held open for her.
+
+She found herself in a small, pleasant room with a bright note of colour
+in the royal blue carpet and window-curtains. A log-fire burned
+cheerfully in the fireplace before which a large red-leather
+Chesterfield was drawn up. On the walls hung some good old Dutch prints,
+and there were a couple of bookcases containing books which, by their
+bindings at least, seemed old and valuable.
+
+At the farther end of the room was another door across which a curtain
+of royal blue was drawn. Mary had scarcely entered the room when this
+door opened and a man appeared.
+
+He was carefully dressed in a well-cut suit of some dark material and
+wore a handsome pearl pin in his black tie. He was a dark, sallow type
+of man, his skin yellowed as though from long residence in the tropics.
+A small black moustache, carefully trained outwards from the lips,
+disclosed, as he smiled a greeting at his visitor, a line of broken
+yellow teeth. His hair, which was grizzled at the temples, was black and
+oily and brushed right back off the forehead. With his coarse black
+hair, his sallow skin, and his small beady eyes, rather like a snake's,
+there was something decidedly un-English about him. As Mary Trevert
+looked at him, somewhat taken aback by his sudden appearance, she became
+conscious of a vague feeling of mistrust welling up within her.
+
+The man closed the door behind him and advanced into the room, his hand
+extended. Mary took it. It was dank and cold to the touch.
+
+"A thousand apologies, my dear Miss Trevert," he said in a soft, silky
+voice, a trifle nasal, with a touch of Continental inflexion, "for
+asking you to come out here to see me. The fact is I had an important
+business conference here this morning and I have a second one this
+afternoon. It was materially impossible for me to come into Rotterdam ...
+But I am forgetting my manners. Let me introduce myself. I am
+Mr. Schulz ..."
+
+Mary Trevert looked at him thoughtfully. Was this the friend of Ernest
+Dulkinghorn, the man of confidence to whom he had recommended her? A
+feeling of great uneasiness came over her. She listened. The house was
+absolutely still. From the utter silence enveloping it--for aught she
+knew--she and her unsavoury-looking companion might be the only persons
+in it. And then she realized that, on the faith of a telephone call, she
+had blindly come out to a house, the very address of which was utterly
+unknown to her.
+
+She fought down a sudden sensation of panic that made her want to
+scream, to bolt from the room into the fresh air, anywhere away from
+those snake eyes, that soft voice, that clammy hand. She collected her
+thoughts, remembered that Jeekes must be somewhere in the house, as his
+outdoor things were in the hall. The recollection reminded her of her
+determination to tolerate no interference from Jeekes or her mother.
+
+So she merely answered: "It was no trouble to come," and waited for the
+man to speak again.
+
+He pulled forward the Chesterfield and made her sit down beside him.
+
+"I had the letter of introduction," he said, "and I want you to know
+that my services are entirely at your disposal. Now, what can I do for
+you?"
+
+He looked at the girl intently--rather anxiously, she thought.
+
+"That was explained in the letter," she answered, meeting his gaze
+unflinchingly.
+
+"Yes, yes, of course, I know. I meant in what way do you propose to make
+use of my ... my local knowledge?"
+
+"I will tell you that, Mr. Schulz," Mary Trevert said in a measured
+voice, "when you tell me what you think of the mission which has brought
+me here ..."
+
+The snake's eyes narrowed a little.
+
+"For a young lady to have come out alone to Holland on a mission of this
+description speaks volumes for your pluck and self-reliance, Miss
+Trevert ..."
+
+"I asked you what you thought of my mission to Holland, Mr. Schulz,"
+Mary interposed coldly.
+
+It was beginning to dawn on her that Mr. Schulz did not seem to know
+anything about the object of her visit, but, on the contrary, was
+seeking to elicit this from her by a process of adroit cross-examination.
+She was rather puzzled, therefore, but also somewhat relieved
+when he said:
+
+"I can give my opinion better after you have shown me the letter ..."
+
+"What letter?" said the girl.
+
+"The letter from Elias van der Spyck and Company, to be sure," retorted
+the other quickly.
+
+Mary dipped her hand into her black fox muff. Then she hesitated. She
+could not rid herself of the suspicion that this man with the sallow
+face and the yellow fangs was not to be trusted. She withdrew her hand.
+
+"This is a very delicate matter, Mr. Schulz," she said. "Our appointment
+was made by telephone, and I think therefore I should ask you to show me
+Mr. Dulkinghorn's letter of introduction before I go any further, so
+that I may feel quite sure in my mind that I am dealing with one in whom
+I know Mr. Dulkinghorn to have every confidence ..."
+
+Mr, Schulz's yellow face went a shade yellower. His mouth twisted itself
+into a wry smile, his thin lips fleshing his discoloured teeth. He
+stood up rather stiffly.
+
+"You are a guest in my house, Miss Trevert," he said with offended
+dignity, "I scarcely expected you to impugn my good faith. Surely my
+word is sufficient ..."
+
+He turned his back on her and took a couple of paces into the room in
+apparent vexation. Then he returned and stood at the back of the
+Chesterfield behind her. His feet made no sound on the thick carpet, but
+some vague instinct made Mary Trevert turn her head. She saw him
+standing there, twisting his hands nervously behind his back.
+
+"Surely my word is sufficient ..." he repeated.
+
+"In business," said Mary boldly, "one cannot be too careful."
+
+"Besides," Mr. Schulz urged, "this was a private letter which Mr. ...
+Mr. Dulkinghorn certainly did not expect you to see. That makes
+it awkward ..."
+
+"I think in the circumstances," said Mary, "I must insist, Mr. Schulz!"
+
+She was now feeling horribly frightened. She strained her ears in vain
+for a sound. The whole house seemed wrapped in a grave-like quiet. The
+smile had never left Mr. Schulz's face. But it was a cruel, wolfish grin
+without a ray of kindliness in it. The girl felt her heart turn cold
+within her every time her eyes fell on the mask-like face.
+
+Mr. Schulz shrugged shoulders.
+
+"Since you insist ..." he remarked. "But I think it is scarcely fair on
+our friend Dulkinghorn. The letter is in the safe in my office next
+door. If you come along I will get it out and show it to you ..."
+
+He spoke unconcernedly, but stiffly, as though to emphasize the slight
+put upon his dignity. One hand thrust jauntily in his jacket pocket, he
+stepped across the carpet to the door with the blue curtain. He opened
+it, then stood back for the girl to pass in before him.
+
+"After you!" he said.
+
+He had placed himself so close to the doorway that the black fox about
+her neck brushed his face as she passed. Suddenly a warm, sickly whiff
+of some sweet-smelling odour came to her. She stopped on the instant,
+irresolute, alarmed. Then a dank hand was clapped on her face, covering
+nostrils and mouth with a soft cloth reeking with a horrible cloying
+drug. An arm with muscles like steel was passed round her waist and held
+her in a vice-like grip against which she struggled in vain. She felt
+her senses slipping, slipping ...
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+TWO'S COMPANY ...
+
+On the pavement opposite the post-office stood one of those high pillars
+which are commonly used in Continental cities for the display of theatre
+and concert advertisements. Robin instantly stepped behind it. It was
+not that he wished to avoid being seen by Jeekes as much as that he had
+not decided in his mind what course he had best pursue. From behind the
+cover of the pillar he mustered his man.
+
+The little secretary looked strange and unfamiliar in a sporting sort of
+travelling ulster of a tawny brown hue and a cap of the same stuff. But
+there was no mistaking the watery eyes, the sharp nose, the features. He
+had obviously not seen Robin. His whole attention was rivetted on the
+street. He kept peering nervously to right and left as though expecting
+some one.
+
+Suddenly he stepped forward quickly to the kerb. Then Robin saw an open
+car detach itself from the press of traffic in the square and, driven
+very fast, approach the post-office. It was a large car with a grey
+body; a sallow man wearing a black felt hat sat at the wheel. The car
+drew up at the kerb and halted within a few feet of the advertisement
+pillar. Robin backed hastily round it to escape observation. He had
+resolved to do nothing until he had ascertained who Jeekes's friend was
+and what business the secretary had with him.
+
+"It's all right," Robin heard the man in the car say in English; "I
+telephoned the girl and she's coming. What a piece of luck, eh?"
+
+Robin heard the click of the car door as it swung open.
+
+"... better get along out there at once," he heard the man in the car
+say, "I'm sending Jan in the car for her at ..."
+
+Then Robin stepped out unexpectedly from behind his pillar and cannoned
+into Mr. Jeekes, who was just entering the car.
+
+"Good-morning," said Robin with easy assurance; "I'm delighted to hear
+that you've found Miss Trevert, Jeekes, for, to tell the truth, I was
+feeling somewhat uneasy about her ..."
+
+The secretary's face was a study. The surprise of seeing Robin, who had
+dropped, it seemed to him, out of the clouds into the city of Rotterdam,
+deprived him of speech for an instant. He blinked his eyes, looked this
+way and that, and finally, with a sort of blind gesture, readjusted his
+_pince-nez_ and glared at the intruder.
+
+Then, without a word, he got into the car. But Robin, with a firm hand,
+stayed the door which Jeekes would have closed behind him.
+
+"Excuse me," Robin remarked decidedly, "but I'm coming with you if your
+friend"--at this he looked at the man in the driving-seat--"has no
+objection ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes cast a frightened glance at the sallow man.
+
+The latter said impatiently:
+
+"We're wasting time, Jeekes. Who is this gentleman?"
+
+"This is Mr. Greve," said the little secretary hurriedly, "a friend of
+Mr. Parrish and Miss Trevert. He was staying in the house at the time of
+the tragedy. He has, I understand, taken a prominent part in the
+investigations as to the motive of our poor friend's sad end ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes looked to Robin as he said this as though for confirmation.
+The man at the driving-wheel turned and gave the little secretary a
+quick glance. Then he mustered Robin with a slow, insolent stare. He had
+a yellow face and small black eyes quick and full of intelligence.
+
+Then he bowed.
+
+"My name is Victor," he said. "The sad news about Mr. Parrish was a
+great shock to me. I met him several times in London. Were you anxious
+to see Miss ... er ... Trevert? She has come to Rotterdam (so my friend
+Jeekes tells me) to look into certain important business transactions
+which the late Mr. Parrish had in hand at the time of his death. Did I
+understand you to say that you were uneasy about this lady? Is there any
+mystery about her journey?..."
+
+For the moment Robin felt somewhat abashed. The question was rather a
+poser. Was there, in effect, any mystery about Mary's trip to Rotterdam
+accompanied by her cousin? She had acquainted her people at Harkings
+with her plans. What if, after all, everything was open and above-board,
+and she had merely come to Rotterdam on business? It seemed difficult to
+believe. Surely in such a case the solicitor, Bardy, would have been the
+more suitable emissary ...
+
+"You'll forgive us, I'm sure," the yellow-faced man remarked suavely,
+"but we're in a great hurry. Would you mind closing that door?..."
+
+Robin closed the door. But he got into the car first. As he had stood on
+the pavement in doubt, the recollection of Jeekes's inexplicable lie
+about the payments made by Parrish for the French lady in the Mayfair
+flat came back to him and deepened the suspicion in his mind. It would
+in any case, he told himself, do no harm to find out who this rather
+unsavoury-looking Rotterdam friend of Jeekes's was ...
+
+So Robin jumped into the car and sat down on the back seat next to the
+secretary.
+
+"It happens," he said, "that I am particularly anxious to see Miss
+Trevert. As I gather you are going to meet her, I feel sure you won't
+mind my accompanying you ..."
+
+The yellow-faced man turned with an easy smile.
+
+"Sorry," he said, "but we are having a meeting with Miss Trevert on
+private business and I'm afraid we cannot take you along. Jeekes here,
+however, could take a message to Miss Trevert and if she _wanted_ to see
+you ..."
+
+He broke off significantly and smiled slily at the secretary. Robin felt
+himself flush. So Jeekes had been telling tales out of school to Mr.
+Victor, had he? The young man squared his jaw. That settled it. He would
+stay.
+
+"I promise not to butt in on your private business," he replied, "but I
+simply must see Miss Trevert before I go back to London. So, if you
+don't mind, I think I'll come along ..."
+
+The yellow-faced man glanced at his wrist watch.
+
+"I can't prevent you!" he exclaimed. Then he rapped out something in
+Dutch to Jeekes. The secretary leaned forward to catch the remark. The
+yellow-faced man threw in the clutch.
+
+"Goed!" (good), answered Jeekes in the same language, and resumed his
+seat as the car glided smoothly away from the kerb into the traffic of
+the busy square. Robin settled himself back in the seat with an
+inaudible sigh of satisfaction. He did not like the look of Jeekes's
+companion, he told himself, and Mr. Victor, whoever he was, had
+certainly manifested no great desire for Robin's company. But he was
+going to see Mary. That was all that counted for the moment.
+
+They threaded their way through the streets in silence. It passed
+through Robin's mind to start a discussion with Jeekes about the death
+of Hartley Parrish. But in the circumstances he conceived it might
+easily assume a controversial character, and he did not want to take any
+risk of jeopardizing his chance of meeting Mary again. And no other
+subject of conversation occurred to him. He did not know Jeekes at all
+well, knew him in fact only as a week-end guest knows the private
+secretary of his host, a shadowy personality, indispensable and part of
+the household, but scarcely more than a name ...
+
+The car had put on speed as they left the more crowded streets and
+emerged into the suburbs. Now they were running over a broad straight
+main road lined with poplars. Robin wondered whither they were bound.
+He was about to put the question to the secretary when the man Victor
+turned his head and said over his shoulder:
+
+"_Nu_!"
+
+At the same moment the speed of the car sensibly diminished.
+
+Jeekes put his arm across the young man at his side.
+
+"That door," he said, touching his sleeve, "doesn't seem to be properly
+shut. Would you mind ..."
+
+Robin pushed the door with his hand.
+
+"It seems all right," he said.
+
+"Permit me ..."
+
+The secretary stretched across and pulled back the latch, releasing the
+door. It swung out.
+
+"Now close it," said Mr. Jeekes.
+
+The door was flapping to and fro with the swaying of the car over the
+rough road and Robin had to half rise in order to comply with the
+request. He was leaning forward, steadying himself with one hand
+grasping the back of the driving-seat, when he received a tremendous
+shove in the back. At the same moment the car seemed to leap forward: he
+made a desperate effort to regain his balance, failed, and was whirled
+out head foremost on to the side of the road.
+
+Fortunately for himself he fell soft. The road ran here through a
+little wood of young oak and beech which came right down to the edge of
+the _chaussee_. The ground was deep in withered leaves which, with the
+rain and the water draining from the road's high camber, were soft and
+soggy. Robin went full length into this muss with a thud that shook
+every bone in his body. His left leg, catching in a bare gorse-bush,
+acted as a brake and stopped him from rolling farther. He sat up, his
+mouth full of mud and his hair full of wet leaves, and felt himself
+carefully over. He contemplated rather ruefully a long rent in the left
+leg of his trousers just across the knee.
+
+"Jeekes!" he murmured; "he pushed me out! The dirty dog!"
+
+Then he remembered that, with the men in the car gone, he had lost trace
+again of Mary Trevert. His forcible ejection from the car was evidence
+enough of their determination to deal with Mary without interference
+from outside. It looked ominous. Robin sprang to his feet and rushed to
+the middle of the road.
+
+The _chaussee_ was absolutely empty. About a hundred yards from where he
+stood in the direction in which the car had been travelling the road
+made a sharp bend to the right, thus curtailing his view. Robin did not
+hesitate. Not waiting to retrieve his hat or even to wipe the mud from
+his face, he started off at a brisk run along the road in the direction
+in which the car had disappeared. He had not gone far before he found
+that his heavy overcoat was seriously impeding him. He stripped it off
+and, folding it, hid it beneath a bush just inside the plantation. Then
+he ran on again.
+
+Fresh disappointment awaited him when he rounded the bend in the road. A
+few hundred yards on the road turned again. There was no sign of the
+car. A cart piled high with manure was approaching, the driver, wearing
+wooden shoes and cracking at intervals a huge whip, trudging at the
+side.
+
+Robin stopped him.
+
+"Motor-car? Automobile?" he asked pointing in the direction from which
+the cart had come. The driver stared at him with a look of owlish
+stupidity.
+
+"Automobile?" repeated Robin. "Tuff-Tuff?"
+
+Very slowly a grin suffused the carter's grimy face. He showed a row of
+broken black teeth. A tiny stream of saliva escaped from the corner of
+his mouth and trickled over the reddish stubble on his chin. Then he
+continued his way, turning his head every now and then to display his
+idiot's grin.
+
+"Damnation!" exclaimed Robin, starting to run again. "Not a soul to ask
+in this accursed desert except the village idiot! Oh! that Jeekes! I'll
+wring his blinking neck when I get hold of him!"
+
+He was furious with himself for the abject way in which he had been
+fooled. The man Victor had given Jeekes his orders in Dutch and had
+purposely picked a soft spot on the roadside and slowed down the car in
+order that the unwelcome intruder might be ejected as safely as
+possible. And to think that Robin had blandly allowed Jeekes to open the
+door and throw him out on the road!
+
+He was round the second bend now. The sun was shining with a quite
+respectable warmth and the steamy air made him desperately hot. The
+perspiration rolled off his face. But he never slackened his gait. Robin
+knew these Continental roads and their habit of running straight. He
+reckoned confidently on presently coming upon a long stretch where he
+might discern the car.
+
+He was not deceived. After the second bend the _chaussee_, just as he
+anticipated, straightened out and ran clear away between an
+ever-narrowing double line of poplars to become a bluish blob on the
+horizon. But of the car nothing was to be seen.
+
+For the second time Robin pulled up. He took serious counsel with
+himself. He estimated that he could see for about three miles along the
+road. Less than three minutes had elapsed since his misadventure, and
+therefore he was confident that the car should yet be in sight, unless
+it had left the road, for it could not have warmed up to a speed
+exceeding sixty miles an hour in the time. There was no sign of the car
+on the road, consequently it must have left it. Robin had passed no side
+roads between the scene of the accident and the second bend; therefore,
+he argued, he had the car before him still. He would go on.
+
+When he started off for the third time, it was at a brisk walking pace.
+As he went he kept a sharp lookout to right and left of the road for any
+trace of the car. It never occurred to him that to follow on foot a
+swift car bound for an unknown destination was the maddest kind of
+wild-goose chase. He was profoundly uneasy about Mary, but at the same
+time immeasurably angered by the trick played upon him--angered not so
+much against Jeekes as against the sallow-faced man whom he recognized
+as its inceptor. He had no thought for anything else.
+
+The flat Dutch landscape stretched away on either side of the road. A
+windmill or two, the inevitable irrigation canals with their little
+sluices, and an occasional tree alone broke the monotony of the scene.
+But away to the right Robin noticed a clump of trees which, he surmised,
+might conceivably enclose a house.
+
+As he walked, he scrutinized the roadway for any track of a car. But on
+the hard brick _pave_ wheels left no mark. The first side road he came
+to was likewise paved in brick. In grave perplexity Robin came to a
+halt.
+
+Then his eye fell upon a puddle. It lay on the edge of the footpath
+bordering the _chaussee_ about five yards beyond the turning. The soft
+mud which skirted it showed the punched-out pattern of a studded tyre!
+The car had not taken this side road, at any rate. It had probably
+pulled over on to the footpath to pass the manure cart which Robin had
+met. He pushed on again valiantly.
+
+Another hundred yards brought him to a second side road. There was no
+_pave_ here, but a soft sandy surface. And it bore, clearly imprinted in
+the mud, the fresh tracks of a car as it had turned off the road.
+
+Breaking into a run Robin followed the track down the turning. It led
+him to a black gate beyond which was a twisting gravel drive fringed
+with high laurels. And the gravel showed the same tyre marks as the
+road.
+
+He vaulted the gate lightly and ran up the drive. He was revolving in
+his head what his next move should be. Should he walk boldly into the
+house and confront Jeekes and his rascally looking companion or should
+he first spy out the ground and try to ascertain whether Mary had
+arrived? He decided on the latter course.
+
+Accordingly, when an unexpected turn of the drive brought him in view of
+a white porch, he left the avenue and took cover behind the laurel
+bushes. Walking softly on the wet grass and keeping well down behind the
+laurels, he went forward parallel with the drive. It ran into a clean
+courtyard with a coachhouse or garage on one side and a small green
+door, seemingly a side entrance into the house, on the other.
+
+There was no one in the courtyard and the house seemed perfectly quiet.
+From his post of observation behind the laurels, Robin observed that a
+tall window beside the green door commanded the view across the
+courtyard. He therefore retraced his steps by the way he had come. When
+he was past the corner of the house, he returned to the drive and
+keeping close to the bushes walked quietly into the courtyard. There,
+hugging the wall, he crept round past the closed doors of the garage
+until he found himself beside the tall window adjoining the green door.
+
+The window was open a few inches at the top. From within the sound of
+voices reached him. Jeekes was speaking. Robin recognized his rather
+grating voice at once.
+
+"... no more violence," he was saying; "first Greve and now the girl. I
+don't like your methods, Victor ..."
+
+Very cautiously Robin dropped on one knee and shuffled forward in this
+position until his eyes were on a level with the window-sill. He found
+himself looking into a narrow room, well lighted by a second window at
+the farther end. It was apparently an office, for there was a high desk
+running down the centre and a large safe occupied a prominent place
+against the wall.
+
+Jeekes and the man Victor stood chatting at the desk. The yellow-faced
+man was grinning sardonically.
+
+"Parrish don't like your methods, I'll be bound," he retorted. "Don't
+you worry about the little lady, Jeekes! Bless your heart, I won't hurt
+her unless ..."
+
+The loud throbbing of a car at the front of the house made Robin duck
+his head hastily. The car, he guessed, might be round at the garage any
+moment and it would not do for him to be discovered. He got clear of the
+window, rose to his feet, and tiptoed round the house by the way he had
+come. Then he crossed the drive and regained the shelter of the laurels.
+Crawling along until he came level with the porch, he peeped through.
+
+Mary Trevert was just entering the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+THE METAMORPHOSIS OF MR. SCHULZ
+
+As the girl collapsed, the yellow-faced man, with an adroit movement,
+whisked the handkerchief off her face and crammed it into his pocket.
+Then, while he supported her with one arm, with the other he thrust at
+the door to close it. Without paying further attention to it, he turned
+and, bending down, lifted the girl without an effort off her feet and
+carried her across the room to the Chesterfield, upon which he laid her
+at full length. Then he seized her muff, which dangled from her neck by
+a thin platinum chain.
+
+Suddenly he heard the door behind him creak. In a flash he remembered
+that he had not heard the click of the lock as he had thrust the door
+to. He was springing erect when a firm hand gripped him by the back of
+the collar and pulled him away from the couch. He staggered back,
+striving to regain his balance, but then a savage shove flung him head
+foremost into the fireplace. He fell with a crash among the fire-irons.
+But he was on his feet again in an instant.
+
+He saw a tall, athletic-looking young man standing at the couch. He had
+a remarkably square jaw; his eyes were shining and he breathed heavily.
+He wore a blue serge suit which was heavily besmeared with white plaster
+and the trousers were rent across one knee. Straight at his throat
+sprang the yellow-faced man.
+
+Something struck him halfway. The young man had waited composedly for
+his coming, but as his assailant advanced, had shot out his left hand.
+There was a sharp crack and the yellow-faced man, reeling, dropped face
+downwards on the carpet without a sound. In his fall his foot caught a
+small table on which a vase of chrysanthemums stood, and the whole thing
+went over with a loud crash. He made a spasmodic effort to rise, hoisted
+himself on to his knees, swayed again, and then collapsed full length on
+the floor, where he lay motionless.
+
+The sound of the fall seemed to awaken the girl. She stirred uneasily
+once or twice.
+
+"What ... what is it?" she muttered, and was still again.
+
+Bending down, the young man gathered her up in his arms and bore her out
+through the door with the blue curtain, through a plainly furnished sort
+of office with high desks and stools, and out by a side door into a
+paved yard. There an open car was standing. The fresh air seemed to
+revive the girl further. As the young man laid her on the seat, she
+struggled up into a sitting position and passed her hand across her
+forehead.
+
+"What is the matter with me?" she said in a dazed voice; "I feel so
+ill!"
+
+Then, catching sight of the young man as he peered into her face, she
+exclaimed:
+
+"Robin!"
+
+"Thank God, you're all right, Mary," said Robin. "We've not got a moment
+to lose. We must get away from here quick!"
+
+He was at the bonnet cranking up the car. But the engine, chilled by the
+cold air, refused to start. As he was straining at the handle, a man
+dashed suddenly into the yard by the office door.
+
+It was Jeekes. The little secretary was a changed man. He still wore his
+_pince-nez_. But his mild air had utterly forsaken him. His face was
+livid, the eyes bulged horribly from his head, and his whole body was
+trembling with emotion. In his hand he held an automatic pistol. He came
+so fast that he was at the car and had covered Robin with his weapon
+before the other had seen him come.
+
+Mr. Jeekes left Robin no time to act. He called out in a voice that rang
+like a pistol shot:
+
+"Hands up, Mr. Smartie! Quick, d'you hear? Put 'em up, damn you!"
+
+Slowly, defiantly the young man raised his arms above his head.
+
+Mr. Jeekes stood close to the driver's seat, having prudently put the
+car between himself and Robin. As he stood there, his automatic levelled
+at the young man, a remarkable thing happened. A black, soft surface
+suddenly fell over his face and was pulled back with a brisk tug. Mary
+Trevert, standing up in the back seat of the car, had flung her fur over
+the secretary's head from behind and caught him in a noose. Before Mr.
+Jeekes could disentangle himself, Robin was at his throat and had borne
+him to the ground. The pistol was knocked skilfully from his hand and
+fell clattering on the flags. Robin pounced down on it. Then for the
+first time he smiled, a sunny smile that lit up his blue eyes.
+
+"Bravo, Mary!" he said. "That _was_ an idea! Now, then, Jeekes," he
+ordered, "crank up that car. And be quick about it! We want to be off!"
+
+The little secretary was a lamentable sight. He was bleeding from a cut
+on the forehead, his clothes were covered with dust, and his glasses had
+been broken in his fall. Peering helplessly about him, he walked to the
+bonnet of the car and sullenly grasped the handle. The smile had left
+Robin's face, and Mary noticed that he looked several times anxiously at
+the office door.
+
+And then suddenly the engine bit. Handing the pistol to the girl, Robin
+warned her to keep the secretary covered and, leaping into the
+driving-seat, turned the car into the avenue which curved round the
+house.
+
+Mr. Jeekes made no further show of fight. He remained standing in the
+centre of the courtyard, a ludicrous, rather pathetic, figure. As the
+tyres of the car gritted on the gravel of the drive, the office door was
+flung open and the yellow-faced man ran out, brandishing a big revolver.
+
+"Stop!" he shouted and levelled his weapon. The car seemed to leap
+forward and took the sharp turn on two wheels just as the man fired. The
+bullet struck the wall of the house and sent up a shower of plaster.
+Before he could fire again the car was round the house and out of sight.
+But as the car whizzed round the turn an instant before the yellow-faced
+man fired, the girl heard a sharp cry from Jeekes:
+
+"Don't, Victor ...!"
+
+The rest of the sentence was lost in the roar of the engine as the car
+raced away down the drive.
+
+They left the avenue in a splutter of wet gravel. The gate still stood
+open. They wheeled furiously into the side road and regained the
+_chaussee_. As yet there was no sign of pursuit. The car rocked
+dangerously over the broken _pave_, so Robin, after a glance behind,
+steadied her down to an easier pace. Mary, who looked very pale and ill,
+was lying back on the back seat with her eyes closed.
+
+They ran easily into Rotterdam as, with a terrific jangle of tunes
+played jerkily on the chimes, the clocks were striking two. Robin slowed
+down as they approached the centre of the city.
+
+"Where are you staying, Mary?" he asked.
+
+He had to repeat the question several times before she gave him the
+address. Then he found himself in a quandary. He was in a strange town
+and did not know a word of the language so as to be able to ask the way.
+However, he solved the difficulty without great trouble. He beckoned to
+a newspaper boy on the square outside the Bourse and, holding up a
+two-gulden piece, indicated by signs that he desired him as a guide. The
+boy comprehended readily enough and, springing on the footboard of the
+car, brought them safely to the hotel.
+
+Robin left Mary and the car in charge of the boy and went to the office
+and asked to see the manager. He had decided upon the story he must
+tell.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he said, when the manager, a blond and suave Swiss, had
+presented himself, "has been to the dentist and has been rather upset by
+the gas. Would you get one of the maids to help her up to her room and
+in the meantime telephone for a doctor. If there is an English doctor in
+Rotterdam, I should prefer to have him!"
+
+The manager clicked in sympathy. He despatched a lady typist and a
+chambermaid to help Mary out of the car.
+
+"For a doctor," he said, "it ees fortunate. We 'ave an English doctor
+staying in ze hotel now--a sheep's doctor. He is in ze lounge. Eef you
+come, _hein?_"
+
+The "sheep's doctor" proved to be a doctor off one of the big liners, a
+clean-shaven, red-faced, hearty sort of person who readily volunteered
+his services. As Robin was about to follow him into the lift, the
+manager stopped him.
+
+"Zere was a shentleman call to see Mees Trevert," he said, "two or three
+time 'e been 'ere ... a Sherman shentleman. 'E leave 'er a note ... will
+you take it?"
+
+Greatly puzzled, Robin Greve balanced in his hands the letter which
+the manager produced from a pigeon-hole. Then he tore open the envelope.
+
+  DEAR MISS TREVERT [he read], I was extremely
+  sorry to miss you this morning. Directly I received
+  your message I called at your hotel, but, though I
+  have been back twice, I have not found you in.
+  Circumstances have arisen which make it imperative that
+  I should see you as soon as possible. This is _most
+  urgent_. I will come back at four o'clock, as I cannot
+  get away before. Do not leave the hotel _on any pretext_
+  until you have seen me and Dulkinghorn's letter as
+  identification. You are in _grave danger_.
+
+The note was signed "W. Schulz."
+
+"H'm," was Robin's comment; "he writes like an Englishman, anyway."
+
+He ascertained the number of Mary Trevert's room and went up to her
+floor in the lift. He waited in the corridor outside the room for the
+doctor to emerge, and lit a cigarette to while away the time. It was not
+until he had nearly finished his second cigarette that the doctor
+appeared.
+
+The doctor hesitated on seeing Robin. Then he stepped close up to him.
+Robin noticed that his red face was more flushed than usual and his eyes
+were troubled.
+
+"What's this cock-and-bull story about gas you've put up to the
+manager?" he said bluntly in a low voice. "The girl's been doped with
+chloroform, as well you know. You'll be good enough to come downstairs
+to the manager with me ..."
+
+Robin took out his note-case and produced a card.
+
+"That's my name," he said. "You'll see that I'm a barrister ..."
+
+"Well?" said the doctor in a non-committal voice after he had read the
+card.
+
+"I'm not surprised to hear you say that Miss Trevert has been doped,"
+Robin remarked. "I found her here in a house on the outskirts of
+Rotterdam in the hands of two men, one of whom is believed to be
+implicated in a mysterious case of suspected murder in England. Through
+the part he played this morning, he has probably run his head into the
+noose. But he'll have it out again if we delay an instant. I told the
+manager that yarn about the dentist to avoid enquiries and waste of
+time. I have here a note from some man I don't know, addressed to Miss
+Trevert, warning her of a grave danger threatening her. It corroborates
+to some extent what I have told you. Here ... read it for yourself!"
+
+He handed the doctor the note signed "W. Schulz."
+
+The doctor read it through carefully.
+
+"What I would propose to you," said Robin, "is that we two should go off
+at once to this Herr Schulz and find out exactly what he knows. Then we
+can decide what action there is to be taken ..."
+
+He paused for the doctor's reply. The latter searched Robin's face with
+a glance.
+
+"I'm your man," he said shortly. "And, by the way, my name's
+Collingwood ... Robert Collingwood."
+
+"There's a car downstairs," said Robin, "and a guide to show us the way.
+Shall we go?"
+
+Five minutes later, under the newsboy's expert guidance, the car drew up
+in front of the small clean house with the neat green door bearing the
+name of "Schulz." Leaving the boy to mind the car, they rang the bell.
+The door was opened by the fat woman in the pink print dress.
+
+Robin gave the woman his card. On it he had written "About Miss
+Trevert." Speaking in German the woman bade them rather roughly to bide
+where they were, and departed after closing the front door in their
+faces. She did not keep them waiting long, however, for in about a
+minute she returned. Herr Schulz would receive the gentlemen, she said.
+
+Within, the house was spotlessly clean with that characteristic German
+house odour which always seems to be a compound of cleaning material and
+hot grease. Up a narrow staircase, furnished in plain oil-cloth with
+brass stair-rods, they went to a landing on the first floor. Here the
+woman motioned them back and, bending her head in a listening attitude,
+knocked.
+
+"_Herein_!" cried a guttural German voice.
+
+The room into which they entered would have been entitled to a place in
+any museum for showing the mode of life of the twentieth-century
+Germans. With its stuffy red rep curtains, its big green majolica stove,
+its heavy mahogany furniture, its oleographs of Bismarck, Roon, and
+Moltke, it might have been lifted bodily from a bourgeois house in the
+Fatherland.
+
+A man was sitting at a mahogany roll-top desk as they entered. The air
+in the room was thick with the fumes of the cheap Dutch cigar he was
+smoking. He was a sturdily built fellow with blond hair shaven so close
+to the skull that at a distance he seemed to be bald.
+
+At the sound of their entrance, he rose and faced them. When he stood
+erect the sturdiness of his build became accentuated, and they saw he
+was a man of medium height, but so muscular that he looked much shorter.
+A pair of large tortoise-shell spectacles straddled a big beak-like
+nose, and he wore a heavyish blond moustache with its points trained
+upwards and outwards rather after the fashion made famous in the
+Fatherland by William Hohenzollern. In his ill-cut suit of cheap-looking
+blue serge, which he wore with a pea-green tie, Robin thought he looked
+altogether a typical specimen of the German of the non-commissioned
+officer class.
+
+"You ask for me?" he said in deep guttural accents, looking at Robin;
+"I am Herr Schulz!"
+
+The German's manner was cold and formal and Robin felt a little dashed.
+
+"My name is Greve," he began rather hurriedly. "I understand you
+received a visit to-day from a young English lady, a Miss Trevert ..."
+
+The German let his eyes travel slowly from Robin to the doctor and back
+again. He did not offer them a chair and all three remained standing.
+
+"Ye-es, and what if I did?"
+
+Robin felt his temper rising.
+
+"You wrote a note to Miss Trevert at her hotel warning her that she was
+in danger. I want to know why you warned her. What led you to suppose
+that she was threatened?"
+
+Herr Schulz made a little gesture of the hand.
+
+"Wass I not right to warn her?"
+
+"Indeed, you were," Robin asserted with conviction. "She was spirited
+away and drugged."
+
+The German started. A frowning pucker appeared just above the bridge of
+his big spectacles and he raised his head quickly,
+
+"Drugged?" he said.
+
+"Certainly," said Robin. "This gentleman with me is a doctor ... Dr.
+Robert Collingwood, of the Red Lion Line. He has examined Miss Trevert
+and can corroborate my statement."
+
+"By Gad!" exclaimed Herr Schulz--and this time his English was
+faultless and fluent--"Shut that door behind you, Mr. Greve, and shoot
+the bolt--that's it just below the knob! Sit down, sit down, and while I
+mix you a drink, you shall tell me about this!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+THE READING OP THE RIDDLE
+
+In uttering those words Herr Schulz seemed suddenly to become
+loose-limbed and easy. His plethoric rigidity of manner vanished, and,
+though he spoke with a brisk air of authority, there was a jovial ring
+in his voice which instantly inspired confidence. With the change the
+illusion supported by his appalling clothes was broken and he looked
+like a man dressed up for charades.
+
+"Are you--English?" asked Robin in astonishment.
+
+"Only in this room," was the dry reply, "and don't you or our friend,
+the doctor, here forget it. You'll both take whisky? Three fingers will
+do you good, Mr. Greve, for I see you've had a roughish time this
+morning. Say when!"
+
+He spurted a siphon into three glasses.
+
+"Before we go any farther," he went on, "perhaps I had better identify
+myself--to save any further misunderstandings, don't you know? Do either
+of you gentlemen happen to know a party called Dulkinghorn? You may have
+heard of him, Mr. Greve, for I can see you have been in the army ..."
+
+"Not Ernest Dulkinghorn, of the War Office?" asked Robin.
+
+"The identical party!"
+
+"I never met him," said Robin. "But I was at the War Office for a bit
+before I was demobilized and I heard fellows speak of him.
+Counter-espionage, isn't he?"
+
+"That's right," nodded Herr Schulz. "You can read his letter to me
+introducing Miss Trevert."
+
+He handed a sheet of paper to Robin.
+
+  DEAR SCHULZ [it ran], Victor Marbran's push appear
+  to be connected with Hartley Parrish, who has
+  just met his death under suspicious circumstances.
+  You will have read about it in the English papers.
+  Miss Trevert was engaged to H.P. and has a letter
+  from Elias van der Spyck and Company which she
+  found on Parrish's desk after his death. I should say
+  that the Marbran-Parrish connection would repay investigation.
+
+                        Yours
+
+                           E. DULKINGHORN
+
+  P.S. The letter is, of course, in conventional code.
+
+  P.P.S. Don't frighten the life out of the Trevert
+  girl, you unsympathetic brute!
+
+Robin read the letter through to the end.
+
+"Then Mary Trevert has this letter from Rotterdam which we have been
+hunting for!" he cried. "Have you seen it?"
+
+Herr Schulz shook his head.
+
+"Miss Trevert called here this morning," he said, "when I was out. She
+gave her letter to Frau Wirth, my housekeeper, with her card and
+address. Frau Wirth was cleaning the plate on the front door and, a
+moment after Miss Trevert had gone, a fellow appeared and said he was a
+friend of Miss Trevert who had made a mistake and left the wrong letter.
+My housekeeper is well trained and wouldn't give the letter up. But she
+made the fatal mistake of telling the fellow exactly what he wanted to
+know, and that was who the letter was addressed to. 'The letter is
+addressed to Herr Schulz,' said this excellent woman, 'and if there's
+any mistake he will find it out when he opens it.' And with that she
+told him to clear out. Which, having got all he wanted, he was glad
+enough to do!"
+
+"What was this chap like?" asked Robin.
+
+The big man shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I can teach my servants discretion," he replied whimsically, "but I
+can't teach 'em to use their eyes. Frau Wirth could remember nothing
+about this fellow except that he wasn't tall and wore a brown overcoat ..."
+
+"Jeekes!" cried Robin, slapping his thigh. "He must have been actually
+coming away from your place when I met him ..."
+
+"And who," asked the big man, reflectively contemplating the amber
+fluid in his glass, "who is Jeekes?"
+
+In reply Robin told him the story of Hartley Parrish's death, his
+growing certainty that the millionaire had been murdered, the mysterious
+letters on slatey-blue paper, and Jeekes's endeavor to burke the
+investigations by throwing on Robin the suspicion of having driven
+Parrish to suicide by threats. He told of his chance meeting with Jeekes
+in Rotterdam that morning, his adventure at the Villa Bergendal, his
+finding and rescue of Mary Trevert, and their escape.
+
+Herr Schulz listened attentively and without interruption until Robin
+had reached the end of his story.
+
+"There's one thing you haven't explained," he said, "and that's how Miss
+Trevert came to walk into the hands of these precious ruffians ..."
+
+"There, perhaps, I can help you," said the doctor from behind one of
+Herr Schulz's rank cigars; "I have it from Miss Trevert herself. Some
+one impersonating you Mr.--er, ahem,--Schulz--telephoned her this
+morning, after she had left her letter of introduction here, asking her
+to come out to lunch at your country-house. She suspected nothing and
+went off in the car they sent for her ..."
+
+"By George!" said the big man thoughtfully; "I suspected some game of
+this kind when I heard of the attempt to get at that letter of
+introduction. If I only could have got hold of Marbran this morning ..."
+
+"Marbran!" said Robin thoughtfully. "When I read Dulkinghorn's letter
+just now I thought I had heard that name before. Of course--Victor
+Marbran! That was it! I remember now! He knew Hartley Parrish in the old
+days. Parrish once said that Marbran would do him an injury if he could.
+Who is Marbran, sir?"
+
+All unconsciously he paid the tribute of 'sir' to Herr Schulz's
+undoubted habit of command.
+
+"Victor Marbran," replied the big man, "is Elias van der Spyck & Co., a
+firm which made millions in the war by trading with the enemy. In every
+neutral country there were, of course, firms which specialized in
+importing contraband for the use of the Germans, but van der Spyck & Co.
+brought the evasion of the blockade to a fine art. They covered up their
+tracks, however, with such consummate art that we could never bring
+anything home to them. In fact, it was only after the armistice that we
+began to learn something of the immense scope of their operations. There
+was a master brain behind them. But it was never discovered. It strikes
+me, however, that we are on the right track at last ..."
+
+"By Jove ...!" exclaimed Robin impressively. "Hartley Parrish!..."
+
+The big man raised a hand.
+
+"_Attentions!_" he interposed suavely. "The chain is not yet complete. I
+wonder what this van der Spyck letter of Miss Trevert's contained that
+made Victor Marbran and the secretary chap so desperately anxious to get
+hold of it. For you understand, don't you?" he said briskly, turning to
+Robin, "that they were after that and that alone. And they risked penal
+servitude in this country to get it ..."
+
+Robin nodded.
+
+"To save their necks in another," he said.
+
+"I have the letter here," mildly remarked the doctor from his corner of
+the room. "Miss Trevert gave it to me!"
+
+He produced a white envelope and drew from it a folded square of
+slatey-blue paper. In great excitement Robin sprang forward.
+
+"You're a downy bird, Doctor, I must say," he remarked, "fancy keeping
+it up your sleeve all this time!"
+
+He eagerly took the letter, spread it out on the table, and read it
+through whilst Herr Schulz looked over his shoulder.
+
+"Code, eh?" commented the big man, shaking his head humorously. "If it
+beats Dulkinghorn, it beats me!"
+
+From his note-case Robin now drew a folded square of paper identical in
+colour with the letter spread out before them.
+
+"I found this on the carpet beside Parrish's body," he said. "Look, it's
+exactly the same paper ..."
+
+Behind the tortoise-shell spectacles the big man's eyes narrowed down to
+pin-points as he caught sight of the sheet which Robin unfolded and its
+series of slits.
+
+"Aha!" he cried--and his voice rang out clear through the room--"the
+grill, eh? Well, well, to think of that!"
+
+He took the slotted sheet of paper from Robin's hands and laid it over
+the letter so that it exactly covered it, edge to edge and corner to
+corner. In this way the greater part of the typewriting in the letter
+was covered over, and only the words appearing in the slots could be
+read. And thus it was that Robin Greve, Herr Schulz, and Dr.
+Collingwood, leaning shoulder to shoulder, read the message that came to
+Hartley Parrish in the library at Harkings....
+
+  ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+
+  GENERAL IMPORTERS
+
+  ROTTERDAM Rotterdam 25th Nov.
+
+  _Codes_
+  A.B.C.
+  Liebler's
+
+  _Personal_
+
+  Dear Mr. Parrish,
+
+  Your favour of even date to hand and contents
+  noted. _The last_ delivery of steel was to time but we have had
+  _warning_ from the railway authorities that labour troubles at the
+  docks are likely to delay future consignments. _If you don't_
+  mind we should prefer to _settle_ the question of future
+  delivery _by Nov. 27_ as we have a board meeting on the 30th
+  inst. While we fully appreciate your own difficulties with
+  labour at home, _you_ will understand that this is a question
+  which we cannot afford to adjourn _sine_ _die._
+
+  Yours faithfully,
+
+  pro ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+
+"'The last ... warning,'" Robin read out, "'if you don't ... settle ...
+by Nov. 27 ... you ... die ...!'"
+
+He looked up. "Last Saturday," he said, "was the 27th, the day that
+Parrish died ..."
+
+"The grill," remarked the big man authoritatively, "is one of the oldest
+dodges known to the Secret Service. It renders a conventional code
+absolutely undecipherable as long as it is skilfully worded, as it is in
+this case. You send your conventional code by one route, your key by
+another. I make no doubt that this was the way in which van der Spyck &
+Co. transacted their business with Hartley Parrish. They simply posted
+their conventional code letters through the post in the ordinary way,
+confident that there was nothing in them to catch the eye of the
+Censor's Department. The key might be sent in half a dozen different
+ways, by hand, concealed in a newspaper, in a parcel ..."
+
+"So this," said Robin, pointing at the letter, "was what caused Hartley
+Parrish to make his will. It would lead one to suppose that it was what
+induced him to commit suicide were not the presumption so strong that he
+was murdered. But who killed him? Was it Jeekes or Marbran?"
+
+Herr Schulz pitched his cigar-stump into an ash-tray.
+
+"That," he said, "is the question which I am going to ask you gentlemen
+to help me answer. You will realize that legally we have not a leg to
+stand on. We are in a foreign country where, without first getting a
+warrant from London, we can take no steps whatever to run these fellows
+in. To get the Dutch police to move against these gentry in the matter
+of the assault upon Miss Trevert would waste valuable time. And we have
+to move quickly--before these two lads can get away. I therefore propose
+that we start this instant for the Villa Bergendal and try, if we are
+not too late, to force Marbran or Jeekes or both of them to a
+confession. That done, we can hold them if possible until we can get the
+Dutch police to apprehend them at the instance of Miss Trevert. Then we
+can communicate with the English police. It's all quite illegal, of
+course! You have a car, I think, Mr. Greve! You will come with us, Dr.
+Collingwood? Good! Then let us start at once!"
+
+Robin intervened with a proposal that they should call _en route_ at his
+hotel to see if there were any telegrams for him.
+
+"Manderton knows I am in Rotterdam," he explained, "and he promised to
+wire me the latest developments in the enquiry he is conducting."
+
+"Miss Trevert should be fully recovered by this," put in the doctor;
+"apart from a little sickness she is really none the worse for her
+disagreeable experience. If there was anything you wanted to ask her ..."
+
+"There is," said Robin promptly. "Her reply to one question," he
+explained, turning to Herr Schulz, "will give us the certainty that
+Parrish was murdered and did not commit suicide. It will not delay us
+more than five minutes to stop at her hotel in passing, We will then
+call in at my place. We should be at the Villa within half an hour from
+now ..."
+
+"Gentlemen," said Herr Schulz as they prepared to go, "I know my Mr.
+Victor Marbran. You should all be armed."
+
+Robin produced the pistol he had taken from Jeekes. Herr Schulz slipped
+a Browning pistol into the breast-pocket of his jacket and, producing a
+long-barrelled service revolver, gave it to the doctor.
+
+"There are three of them, I gather, counting the chauffeur," commented
+the big man, pulling on his overcoat, "so we shall be equally matched."
+
+Darkness had fallen upon Rotterdam and the lights from the houses made
+yellow streaks in the water of the canal as the car, piloted by Robin,
+drove the party to Mary Trevert's hotel.
+
+They found the girl, pale and anxious, in the lounge.
+
+"Well, now," cried the doctor breezily, "and how are you feeling? Did
+you take my advice and have some tea?"
+
+"What has happened?" asked the girl; "I have been so anxious about you ..."
+
+Her words were addressed to the doctor, but she looked at Robin.
+
+"Mary," said Robin, "we are very near the truth now. But there is one
+thing you can tell us. It is very important. When you heard the shot in
+the library at Harkings, did you notice any other sound--before or
+after?"
+
+The girl paused to think.
+
+"There was a sort of sharp cry and a thud ..."
+
+"I know. But was there anything else? Do try and remember. It's so
+important!"
+
+The girl was silent for a moment. Then she said slowly:
+
+"Yes, there was, now I come to think of it. Just as I tried the door--it
+was locked, you know--there was a sort of hiss, harsh and rather loud,
+from the room ..."
+
+"A sort of hiss, eh? Something like a sneeze?"
+
+"Yes. Only louder and ... and ... harsher!"
+
+"Now, answer me carefully! Was this before or after the shot?"
+
+"Oh, before! Just as I was rattling the doorhandle. The shot broke in
+upon it...."
+
+Robin turned to Herr Schulz, who stood with a grave face by his side.
+
+"The silencer, you see, sir!" he said. Then to Mary he added: "Mary, we
+are going off now. But we will be back within the hour and...."
+
+"Oh, Robin," the girl broke in, "don't leave me alone! I don't feel safe
+in this place after this morning. I'd much rather come with you...."
+
+"Mary, it's quite impossible...." Robin began.
+
+But the girl had turned to a table and taken from it her hat and fur.
+
+"I don't care!" she exclaimed wilfully; "I'm coming anyhow. I refuse to
+be left behind!"
+
+She smiled at Herr Schulz as she spoke, and that gentleman's rather grim
+face relaxed as he looked at her.
+
+"I'm not sure I wouldn't say the same!" he remarked.
+
+The upshot of it was that, despite Robin's objections, Mary Trevert
+accompanied the party. She sat on the back seat, rather flushed and
+excited, between Herr Schulz and the doctor, while Robin took the wheel
+again. A few minutes' drive took them to the big hotel where Robin had
+booked a room. They all waited in the car whilst he went to the office.
+
+He was back in a minute, an open telegram in his hand.
+
+"I believe I've got in my pocket," he cried, "the actual weapon with
+which Hartley Parrish was killed!"
+
+And he read from the telegram:
+
+"Mastertons gunsmiths sold last July pair of Browning automatics
+identical with that found on Parrish to Jeekes who paid with Parrish's
+cheque."
+
+The message was signed "Manderton."
+
+At that moment a man wearing a black bowler hat and a heavy frieze
+overcoat came hurrying out of the hotel.
+
+"Mr. Greve!" he cried as Robin, who was back in the driving-seat, was
+releasing the brake. "Did you have the wire from the Yard saying I was
+coming?" he asked. "Probably I beat the telegraph, though. I came by
+air!"
+
+Then he tipped his hat respectfully at Herr Schulz.
+
+"This is Detective-Inspector Manderton, of Scotland Yard, sir," said
+Robin.
+
+The big man beamed a smile of friendly recognition.
+
+"Mr. Manderton and I are old friends," he said. "How are you,
+Manderton? I didn't expect you to recognize me in these duds ..."
+
+"I'd know you anywhere, sir," said the detective with unwonted
+cordiality.
+
+"Have you got your warrant, Manderton?" asked Herr Schulz.
+
+"Aye, I have, sir," replied the detective. "And I've a colleague from
+the Dutch police who's going along with me to effect the arrest ..."
+
+"Jeekes, eh?"
+
+"That's the party, sir, charged with wilful murder.... This is
+Commissary Boomjes, of the Rotterdam Criminal Investigation Department!"
+
+A tall man with a short black beard had approached the car. It was
+decided that the whole party should proceed to the Villa Bergendal
+immediately. Manderton sat next to Robin and the Dutch police officer
+perched himself on the footboard.
+
+"And where did you pick _him_ up, I'd like to know?" whispered Manderton
+in Robin's ear with a backward jerk of the head, as they glided through
+the brightly lit streets.
+
+"D'you mean the doctor?" asked Robin.
+
+"No, your other friend!"
+
+"Miss Trevert had a letter to him. Something in the Secret Service,
+isn't he?"
+
+Mr. Manderton snorted.
+
+"'Something in the Secret Service,'" he repeated disdainfully. "Well, I
+should say he was. If you want to know, Mr. Greve, he's the head!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+THE FIGURE IN THE DOORWAY
+
+The rain was coming down in torrents and the night was black as pitch
+when, leaving the lights of Rotterdam behind, the car swung out on to
+the main road leading to the Villa Bergendal. Thanks to a powerful
+headlight, Robin was able to get a good turn of speed out of her as soon
+as they were clear of the city. As they slowed down at the gate in the
+side road Herr Schulz tapped him on the shoulder.
+
+"Better leave the car here and put the lights out," he counselled. "And
+Miss Trevert should stay if the doctor here would remain to look after
+her ..."
+
+"You think there'll be a scrap?" whispered the doctor.
+
+"With a man like Marbran," returned the Chief, "you never know what may
+happen ..."
+
+"Zere will be no faight," commented the Dutch police officer in
+lugubrious accents, "my vriends, ve are too laite ..."
+
+But the Chief insisted that Mary should stay behind and the doctor
+agreed to act as her escort. Then in single file the party proceeded up
+the drive, Robin in front, then the Dutchman, after him the Chief, and
+Mr. Manderton in the rear.
+
+They walked on the grass edging the avenue. On the wet turf their feet
+made no sound. When they came in view of the house, they saw it was in
+darkness. No light shone in any window, and the only sound to be heard
+was the melancholy patter of the rain drops on the laurel bushes. When
+they saw the porch looking black before them, they left the grass and
+stepped gently across the drive, the gravel crunching softly beneath
+their feet. Robin led the way boldly under the porch and laid a hand on
+the doorknob. The door opened easily and the next moment the four men
+were in the hall.
+
+As Robin moved to the wall to find the electric light switch, a torch
+was silently thrust into his hand.
+
+"Better have this, sir," whispered Manderton. "I have my finger on the
+switch now, but we'd best wait to put the light up until we know where
+they are. Where do we go first?"
+
+"Into the sitting-room," Robin returned.
+
+Switching the torch on and off only as he required it, he crept silently
+over the heavy carpet to the door of the room in which that morning he
+had come upon Mary. Manderton remained at the switch in the hall whilst
+the other two men followed Robin through the door.
+
+The room was in darkness. It struck chill; for the fire had gone out.
+The beam of the torch flitting from wall to wall showed the room to be
+empty.
+
+"I don't believe there's a soul in the house," whispered the Chief to
+Robin.
+
+"Ve are too laite; I have said it!" muttered the Dutchman.
+
+"There is another room leading out of this," replied Robin, turning the
+torch on to the blue curtain covering the door leading into the office.
+"We'll have a look in there and then try upstairs. Manderton will give
+us warning if anybody comes down ..."
+
+So saying he drew the curtain aside and pushed open the door. Instantly
+a gush of cold air blew the curtain back in his face. Before he could
+disentangle himself the door slammed to with a crash that shook the
+house.
+
+"That's done it!" muttered the Chief.
+
+The three men stood and listened. They heard the dripping of the rain,
+the soughing of the wind, but no sound of human kind came to their ears.
+
+"The place is empty," whispered the Chief. "They've cleared ..."
+
+"It is too laite; I have said it." The Dutchman spoke in a hoarse bass.
+
+"We'll go in here, anyway," answered Robin, lifting up the curtain
+again. "They may have heard us and be hiding ..."
+
+He opened the door, steadying it with his foot. The curtain flapped
+wildly round them as they crossed the threshold. The broad white beam of
+the electric torch swung from window to desk, from desk to safe.
+
+"The door over there is open," exclaimed the Chief; "that's the way
+they've gone."
+
+Suddenly he clutched Robin's arm.
+
+"Steady," he whispered, "look there ... in the doorway ... there's
+somebody moving ... quick, the torch!"
+
+The light flashed across the room, blazed for an instant on a
+window-pane, then picked out a man's form swaying in the doorway. He had
+his back to the room and was rocking gently to and fro with the wind
+which they felt cold on their faces.
+
+"It's only a coat and trousers hanging in the door ..." began Robin.
+
+Then, with a suddenness which pained the eyes, the room was flooded with
+light. The Dutch detective stepped from the electric light switch and
+moved to the open door.
+
+"Too laite!" he cried, shaking his head; "have I not tell you?"
+
+Suspended by a strip of coloured stuff, the body of Mr. Jeekes dangled
+from the cross-beam of the door. The corpse oscillated in the breeze,
+silhouetted against an oblong of black sky, turning this way and that,
+loose, unnatural, horrible, and, as the body, twisting gently, faced the
+room, it gave a glimpse of startling eyes, swollen, empurpled features,
+protruding tongue.
+
+Without the least trace of emotion the black-bearded detective picked up
+a rush-bottom chair and gathering up the corpse by its collar hoisted it
+up without an effort so that the feet rested on the chair. Then,
+producing a clasp-knife, he mounted the chair and, with a vigorous
+slash, cut the coloured strip which had been fastened to a staple
+projecting from the brickwork above the door on the outside of the
+house.
+
+He caught the body in his arms and laid it face upwards on the matting
+which covered the floor. He busied himself for an instant at the neck,
+then rose with a twisted strip of coloured material in his hand.
+
+"His braces," he remarked, "very common. The stool what he has stood
+upon and knocked avay, she lies outsaide! My vriends, ve are too laite!"
+
+The doctor, fetched in haste by Manderton, examined the body. The man
+had been dead, he said, for several hours. Mary remained in the hall
+with Manderton while Robin and the Dutch detective went over the house.
+There was no trace either of Marbran or of the chauffeur. In the two
+bedrooms which showed signs of occupation the beds had been made up, but
+the ward-robes were empty.
+
+"Marbran's made a bolt for it," said Robin, coming into the office where
+he had left the Chief, "and taken everything with him ..."
+
+"I gathered as much," answered that astute gentleman, pointing at the
+fireplace. A pile of charred paper filled the grate. "There's nothing
+here, and I think we can wipe Mr. Victor Marbran off the slate. I doubt
+if we shall see him again. At any rate we can leave him to the tender
+mercies of our black-bearded friend here. As for us, I don't really see
+that there is anything more to detain us here ..."
+
+"But," remarked Robin, looking at the still figure on the floor, the
+face now mercifully covered by the doctor's white handkerchief, "surely
+this is a confession of guilt. Has he left nothing behind in writing? No
+account of the crime?"
+
+"Not a thing," responded the Chief, "and I've been through every
+drawer. Even the safe is open ... and empty!"
+
+"But how does it happen then," asked Robin, "that Marbran has legged it
+while Jeekes here ..."
+
+"Marbran left him in the lurch," the Chief broke in decisively. "I think
+that's clear. While you were upstairs with our Dutch friend, I went
+through the dead man's pockets. He had no money, Greve, except a few
+coppers and a little Dutch change. He had not even got a return ticket
+to London. Which makes me think that Master Jeekes had left old England
+for good."
+
+"Another thing that puzzles me," remarked Robin, "is how Jeekes knew
+that Miss Trevert had a letter to you, sir? Or, for a matter of that,
+how he knew that she had gone to Rotterdam at all?"
+
+"That's not hard to answer," said Mr. Manderton, who had just entered
+the room. "On Sunday night Jeekes rang up Harkings from his club and
+asked to speak to Miss Trevert. Bude told him she had gone away. Jeekes
+then asked to speak to Sir Horace Trevert, who told him that his sister
+had gone to Rotterdam. Jeekes takes the first available train in the
+morning, recognizes Miss Trevert on the way across, and tags her to her
+hotel in Rotterdam. The next morning he follows her again, shadows her
+to Sir ... to this gentleman's rooms, and there, as we know, contrived
+by a trick to see to whom she had a letter."
+
+"But why did he not attempt to get the letter away from her as soon as
+she arrived? Miss Trevert never suspected Jeekes. She might have shown
+him the letter if he'd asked her for it ..."
+
+The detective shook his head sagely.
+
+"Jeekes was pretty 'cute," he said. "Before letting the girl know he was
+in Rotterdam, he wanted to find out what she wanted here and whom she
+knew. Remember, he had no means of knowing if the girl suspected him or
+not ..."
+
+"So he devised this trick of impersonating Mr. Schulz on the telephone,
+eh?"
+
+"Bah!" broke in the Chief; "I bet that was Marbran's idea. Look at
+Jeekes's face and tell me if you see in it any feature indicating the
+bold, ingenious will to try a bluff like that. I never knew this fellow
+here. But I know Marbran, a resolute, undaunted type. You can take it
+from me, Marbran directed--Jeekes merely carried out instructions. What
+do you say, Manderton?"
+
+But the detective had retired into his shell again.
+
+"If you will come to Harkings with me the day after to-morrow, sir, I
+shall hope to show you exactly how Mr. Parrish met his death ..."
+
+"No, no, Manderton," responded the Chief; "I can't leave here for a bit.
+There are bigger murderers than Jeekes at liberty in Holland to-day ..."
+
+The detective slapped his thigh.
+
+"I'd have laid a shade of odds," he cried merrily, "that you were
+watching the gentleman at Amerongen, sir ..."
+
+"Tut, tut, Manderton," said the Chief, raising his hand to silence the
+other; "you run on too fast, my friend! I wish," he went on, changing
+the subject, "I could be with you at Harkings to-morrow to witness your
+reconstruction of the crime, Manderton. You'll go, I suppose, Greve?"
+
+"I certainly shall," answered the barrister, "I have had some experience
+of criminals, but I must say I never saw one less endowed with criminal
+characteristics than little Jeekes. A strange character!..."
+
+The Chief laughed sardonically.
+
+"Anyway," he remarked, "he had a damn good notion of the end that
+befitted him ..."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a still, starry night. The Flushing boat stood out of harbour on
+a calm sea. The high arc lamps threw a blue gleam over the deserted
+moles and glinted in the oily swell lapping the quays. From the
+fast-receding quayside the rasping of a winch echoed noisily across the
+silent water. On the upper deck of the mail-boat Robin Greve and Mary
+Trevert stood side by side at the rail. They had the deck to themselves.
+Above their heads on the bridge the captain stood immobile, a square
+black figure, the helmsman at his elbow. Otherwise, between the stars
+and the sea, the man and the girl were alone.
+
+Thus they had stood ever since the mail-boat had cast off from the quay.
+Robin had made some banal attempt at conversation, urging (but without
+much sincerity) that, after her experiences of the day, the girl should
+go to her cabin and rest. But Mary Trevert had merely shaken her head
+impatiently, without speaking.
+
+Presently he put his arm through hers. He felt against his wrist the
+warm softness of her travelling-coat, and it seemed to him that, though
+the girl made no sign, some slight answering pressure met his touch. So
+they leaned upon the rail for a space watching the water fall hissing
+from the vessel's side as the steamer, jarring and quivering, met the
+long steady roll from the open sea.
+
+Then Mary Trevert spoke.
+
+"Robin," she said gently, "I owe you an apology ..."
+
+Robin Greve looked at her quickly. But Mary had her eyes fixed seaward
+in contemplation of a distant light that flared and died with persistent
+regularity.
+
+"My dear," he answered, "I've only myself to blame. When you told me you
+were going to marry Hartley Parrish, I should have known that you had
+your reasons and that those reasons were good. I should have held my
+tongue ..."
+
+This time the girl stole a glance at him. But now he was gazing away to
+the horizon where the light came and went.
+
+"All this misunderstanding between us," he went on, "came about because
+of what I said in the billiard-room that afternoon ..."
+
+The girl shook her head resolutely.
+
+"No," she answered, "it was my fault. I'm a proud devil, Robin, and what
+you said about Hartley and ... and ... other women, Robin, hurt and ...
+and made me angry. No, no, don't apologize again. You and I are old
+enough friends, my dear, to tell one another the truth. You made me
+angry because what you said was true. I _was_ selling myself, selling
+myself with my eyes open, too, and you've got a perfect right never to
+speak to me again ..."
+
+She did not finish the sentence but broke off. Her voice died away
+quaveringly. Robin took her hand in his.
+
+"Dear," he said, "don't cry! It's over and done with now ..."
+
+Mary shook herself with an angry gesture.
+
+"What's the good of telling me not to cry?" she protested tearfully;
+"I've disgraced myself in my own eyes as well as in yours. If you can't
+forget what I was ready to do, I never shall ..."
+
+Very gently the young man turned the girl towards him.
+
+"I'm not such a prig as all that," he said. "We all make mistakes. You
+know I understand the position you were in. Parrish is dead. I shall
+forget the rest ..."
+
+Slowly the girl withdrew her hands from his grasp.
+
+"Yes," she said wearily, "you will find it easy to forget!"
+
+She drew her fur closer about her neck and turned her back on the sea.
+
+"I must go down," she said. And waited for the man to stand aside. He
+did not move and their eyes met. Suddenly, like a child, she buried her
+face in her arm flung out across his chest. She began to sob bitterly.
+
+"That afternoon ... in the billiard-room ..." she sobbed, "you will
+forget ... that ... too ... I suppose ..."
+
+Robin took her face in his hands, a hot, tear-stained face, and detached
+it from the sheltering arm.
+
+"My dear," he said, "I shall have to try to forget it. But I know I
+shan't succeed. To the end of my life I shall remember the kiss you gave
+me. But we are farther apart than ever now!"
+
+There was a great sadness in his voice. It arrested the girl's attention
+as he dropped his hands and turned back to the rail.
+
+"Why?" she said in a low voice, without looking up.
+
+"Because," replied the young man steadily, "you're rich now, Mary ..."
+
+The girl looked up quickly.
+
+"Will men ever understand women?" she cried, a new note in her voice.
+She stepped forward and, putting her two hands on the young man's
+shoulders, swung him round to face her.
+
+"I'm as poor as ever I was," she said, "for Hartley Parrish's money is
+not for me ..."
+
+"Mary!" exclaimed the young man joyfully.
+
+"Robin Greve," cried the girl, "do you mean to tell me you'd stand there
+thinking I'd accept money made like that ..."
+
+But now she was in his arms. With a little fluttering sigh she yielded
+to his kiss.
+
+"Oh, the man on the bridge!..." she murmured with her woman's instinct
+for the conventions.
+
+"Come behind the boat, then!" commanded Robin.
+
+And in the shadow of a weather-stained davit he kissed her again.
+
+"So you'll wait for me, after all, Mary?"
+
+"No," retorted the girl firmly. "We'll read the Riot Act to Mother and
+you must marry me at once!"
+
+The wind blew cold from the North Sea. It rattled in the rigging,
+flapped the ensign standing out stiffly at the stern, and whirled the
+black smoke from the steamer's funnels out into a dark aerial wake as
+far as the eye could reach. With a gentle rhythmic motion the vessel
+rose and fell, while the stars began to pale and faint grey shadows
+appeared in the eastern sky. Still the man and the girl stood by the
+swaying lifeboat and talked the things that lovers say. Step by step
+they went over their thoughts for one another in each successive phase
+of the dark tragedy through which they had passed.
+
+"And that van der Spyck letter," asked Robin; "how did you get hold of
+it? I've been wanting to ask you that ever since this afternoon ..."
+
+"I found it in the library," replied the girl, "on the desk. It had got
+tucked away between two letter-trays--one fits into the other, you
+know."
+
+"I wondered how Jeekes had come to miss it," said Robin. "But when was
+this?" he added.
+
+"On Sunday afternoon."
+
+"But what were you doing in the library?"
+
+The girl became a little embarrassed.
+
+"I knew Mr. Manderton was suspicious of you. I heard him telephoning
+instructions to London to have you watched. So I thought I'd go to the
+library to see if I could find anything which would show what they had
+against you exactly. And I found this letter. Then I noticed some one
+hiding behind the curtains, and, as I had the letter in my hand, I hid
+it in my dress. When I discovered that Bruce Wright was after it too, I
+pretended I had found nothing ..."
+
+"But, darling, why?"
+
+"I wanted to make sure for myself why you had sent Bruce Wright, for I
+guessed he had come from you, to look for this letter. So I thought I'd
+go to Rotterdam to investigate ..."
+
+Robin laughed affectionately.
+
+"Surely it would have been simpler to have given the letter to the
+police ..."
+
+Mary gave him a look of indignant surprise.
+
+"But it might have incriminated you!" she exclaimed.
+
+At that Robin kissed her again.
+
+"Will men _ever_ understand women?" he asked, looking into her tranquil
+grey eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+AN INTERRUPTION FROM BEYOND
+
+Sudden frost had laid an icy finger on the gardens of Harkings. The
+smooth green lawns were all dappled with white and wore a pinched and
+chilly look save under the big and solemn firs where the ground, warmed
+by its canopy of branches and coverlet of cones, had thawed in dark
+patches. The gravel walks were firm and dry; and in the rosery the bare
+skeleton of the pergolas stood out in clear-cut silhouette against a
+white and woolly sky.
+
+Overnight the frost had come. It had taken even the birds by surprise.
+They hopped forlornly about the paths as though wondering where they
+would get their breakfast. Robin Greve, idly watching them from the
+library window, found himself contrasting the cheerful winter landscape
+with the depressing conditions of the previous day. In wind and rain the
+master of Harkings had been laid to rest in the quiet little churchyard
+of Stevenish. The ceremony had been arranged in haste, as soon as the
+coroner's jury had viewed the body. Robin Greve, that morning arrived
+from Rotterdam, Bude, and Mr. Bardy the solicitor, had been the only
+mourners. As Robin looked out upon the wintry scene, his mind reverted
+to the hurried funeral with its depressing accompaniment of gleaming
+umbrellas, mud from the freshly turned clay, and dripping trees.
+
+Beneath the window of the library, its shattered pane now replaced, a
+cluster of starlings whistled gaily, darting bright-eyed glances, full
+of anticipation, at the closed window.
+
+"_He_ used to give them crumbs every morning after breakfast," said
+Mary. "See, Robin, how they are looking up! It seems a shame to
+disappoint them...."
+
+As though relieved to be quit of his dark thoughts, Robin, with a glad
+smile, turned to the girl. Dipping his hand into his pocket, he produced
+a hunk of bread and put it in her hand.
+
+"You think of everything!" she said, smiling back at him prettily.
+
+He pushed up the window and she crumbled the bread for the birds. He
+rested one hand on her shoulder.
+
+"He thought of everything, too," was his comment, "even down to the
+birds. It's extraordinary! No detail was too small for him!..."
+
+"He _was_ remarkable, Robin," answered the girl soberly; "there was
+something magnetic about his personality that made people like him.
+Even now that he is dead, even in spite of what we know, I can feel his
+attraction still. And the whole house is impregnated with his
+personality. Particularly this room. Don't you feel it? I don't mind
+being here with you, Robin, but I shouldn't like to be here alone. I was
+dreadfully frightened on Sunday evening when I came here. And when I saw
+the curtains move ... oh! I thought my heart would stop beating! Dear,
+I'm glad we are giving this place up. I don't feel that I could ever be
+happy here ... even with you!"
+
+"Poor devil!" said Robin. And then again he said: "Poor devil!"
+
+"It was terrible ... to die like that!" replied Mary.
+
+"It was terrible for him to lose _you_!" answered the young man.
+
+She gave his hand a little, tender squeeze, but relinquished it quickly
+as the door opened.
+
+Mr. Manderton was there, broad-shouldered and burly. Behind came Dr.
+Romain with a purple nose and eyes watering with the cold, Horace
+Trevert in plain clothes, Mr. Bardy, the solicitor, plump, middle-aged,
+and prim, with a broad, smooth-shaven face and an eyeglass on a black
+silk riband. In the background loomed the large form of Inspector
+Humphries, ruddy of cheek as of hair. Lady Margaret did not appear.
+
+Mr. Manderton slapped his bowler hat briskly on a side table and with a
+little bow to Mary walked to the desk.
+
+"Now," said Mr. Manderton with a long, shrewd look that comprehended the
+company, individually and collectively, and the entire room, "if
+Inspector Humphries will kindly close the door, we will reconstruct the
+crime in the light of the evidence we have collected."
+
+He turned round to the desk and pulled back the chair ... Hartley
+Parrish's empty chair.
+
+"It is just on five o'clock on Saturday evening, November 27," he began,
+"and growing dark outside. Mr. Parrish is sitting here"--he tapped the
+chair--"with all the lights in the room turned off except this one on
+the desk."
+
+Here he put a large hand on the reading-lamp.
+
+"The assumption that Mr. Parrish spent the afternoon, as he had spent
+the morning, over papers in connection with the business of Hornaway's
+in which he was interested is not correct. Mr. Archer, one of Mr.
+Parrish's secretaries who brought down a number of papers and letters
+for Mr. Parrish to sign in the morning, states that as far as Hornaway's
+or any other office business was concerned, Mr. Parrish was through with
+it by lunch. This is corroborated by the fact that no business papers of
+this description, with the exception of one, which I am coming to
+directly, were found on the desk here after Mr. Parrish's death. Nor
+were there any traces of burnt paper in or about the fire. These two
+facts were established by my colleague, Inspector Humphries."
+
+At this everybody turned and looked at the Inspector, who blushed until
+the tint of his hair positively paled by comparison with that of his
+face.
+
+"What Mr. Archer _did_ leave with Mr. Parrish, however," Mr. Manderton
+resumed, looking round the group and emphasising the "did," "was his
+will and this letter ..."--he held up a typewritten sheet of slatey-blue
+paper--"which, a straightforward business communication in appearance,
+was in reality a threat against his life. It was with these two
+documents that Mr. Parrish spent the last few hours before he was found
+dead in this room. A few odd papers found lying on the desk have nothing
+to do with the case and may therefore be dismissed."
+
+Mr. Manderton paused and then, with the deliberation which distinguished
+his every movement, walked round the desk to the window.
+
+"The fire in this room," he said, turning and facing his audience, "was
+smoking. The butler will testify to this and state that Mr. Parrish
+complained about it to him with the result that the sweep was ordered
+for Monday morning. Owing to the smoke in the room Mr. Parrish opened
+the window. His finger-prints were on the inside of the window-frame and
+a small fragment of white paint was still adhering to one of his
+finger-nails.
+
+"The window, then, was open as it is now. Mr. Parrish sat at his desk,
+read through his will, and wrote a letter to Miss Trevert informing her
+that, under the will, she was left sole legatee. This letter, with the
+will, was found on the desk after Mr. Parrish's death. Presumably in
+view of the threat against his life contained in this letter,"--the
+detective held up the slatey-blue paper,--"Mr. Parrish had either in his
+pocket or, as I am more inclined to think, lying on the desk in front of
+him, his Browning automatic pistol. This pistol was fitted with a Maxim
+silencer, an invention for suppressing the report of a firearm, which
+was sent to Mr. Parrish by a friend in America some years ago and which
+he kept permanently attached to the weapon."
+
+Mr. Manderton came to an impressive full stop and glanced round his
+circle of listeners. He gave his explanations easily and fluently, but
+in a plain, matter-of-fact tone such as a police constable employs in
+the witness-box. He had marshalled his facts well, and his measured
+advance towards his _denouement_ was not without its effect on his
+audience. Dr. Romain, nursing his knee on a leather settee, Horace
+Trevert, a tall slim figure eagerly watching the detective from his
+perch on the arm of the Chesterfield, and Robin and Mary, standing, very
+close together, behind the empty chair at the desk--each and every one
+was listening with rapt attention. Inspector Humphries, propping his big
+bulk uneasily against the wall near the door, was the only one who
+appeared to be oblivious of the strain.
+
+The detective walked round the desk and seated himself in the chair.
+
+"Mr. Parrish is seated at the desk here," he resumed, "when his
+attention is directed to the window."
+
+And here Mr. Manderton raised his head and looked out towards the
+frost-strewn gardens.
+
+"Maybe he hears a step, more probably he sees a face staring at him out
+of the dark. Very much to his surprise he recognizes Jeekes, his
+principal private secretary--I say to his surprise because he must have
+believed Jeekes, who had the week-end free, to be in London. And at
+that, perhaps because he thinks he has made a mistake--in any case to
+make sure--he gets up...."
+
+The detective suited the action to the word. He pushed back the chair
+and rose to his feet. They saw he held a large automatic pistol in his
+hand.
+
+"He has had this threatening letter, remember, so he takes his pistol
+with him. And he reaches the window ..."
+
+The detective was at the window now, his back to the room.
+
+"He speaks to Jeekes, angrily, maybe--the butler heard the sound of loud
+voices--they have words. And then ..."
+
+There came a knock at the library door. It was not a loud knock. It was
+in reality scarcely more than a gentle tap. But it fell upon a silence
+of Manderton's own creating, a rapt silence following a pause which
+preceded the climax of his narrative. So the discreet knocking resounded
+loud and clear through the library.
+
+"Who is that? What is it?" rapped out Dr. Bomain irritably.
+
+"Don't let any one disturb us, Inspector!" called out Horace Trevert to
+Inspector Humphries, who had opened the door.
+
+Bude's face appeared in the doorway. He had a short altercation with the
+Inspector, who resolutely interposed his massive form between the butler
+and the room.
+
+"What is it, Bude?" asked Robin, going to the door.
+
+"It's a letter for Miss Trevert, sir!" said Bude.
+
+"Well, leave it in the hall. Miss Trevert can't be disturbed at
+present ..."
+
+"But ... but, sir," the butler protested. Then Robin noticed that he was
+trembling with excitement and that his features were all distraught.
+
+"What's the matter with you, Bude?" Robin demanded.
+
+Humphries had stood on one side and Robin now faced the butler.
+
+"It's a letter from ... that Jeekes!" faltered Bude, holding out a
+salver. "I know his writing, sir!"
+
+"For Miss Trevert?"
+
+Robin gathered up the plain white envelope. It bore a Dutch stamp. The
+postmark was Rotterdam. He gave the letter to Mary. It was bulky and
+heavy.
+
+"For you," he said, and stood beside her while she broke the seal. By
+this they had all gathered round her.
+
+The envelope fluttered to the floor. Mary was unfolding a wad of sheets
+of writing-paper folded once across. She glanced at the topmost sheet,
+then handed the bundle to Robin.
+
+"It's a confession!" she said.
+
+From beyond the grave the little secretary had spoken and spoiled Mr.
+Manderton's _denouement_.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+THE DEATH OF HARTLEY PARRISH
+
+"For Miss Trevert."
+
+Thus, in Jeekes's round and flowing commercial hand, the document began:
+
+  Last Statement of Albert Edward Jeekes, made at
+  Rotterdam, this twenty-first Day of January, in the
+  Year of Our Lord One Thousand Nine Hundred
+  and...
+
+Mr. Bardy, the solicitor, to whom, by common consent, the reading of the
+confession had been entrusted, raised his eyebrows, thereby letting his
+eyeglass fall, and looked round at the company.
+
+"Pon my soul," he remarked, "for a man about to take his own life, our
+friend seems to have been the coolest customer imaginable. Look at it!
+Written in a firm hand and almost without an erasure. Very remarkable!
+Very remarkable, indeed!..."
+
+"Hm!" grunted Mr. Manderton, "not so uncommon as you suppose, Mr. Bardy,
+sir. Hendriks, the Palmers Green poisoner, typed out his confession on
+cream inlaid paper before dosing himself. But let's hear what the
+gentleman has to tell us...."
+
+This was the last digression. Thenceforth Mr. Bardy read out the
+confession to the end without interruption.
+
+  _For Miss Trevert_:
+
+  _Madam_,
+
+  I slew, but I am not a murderer: I Killed, but
+  without deliberation.
+
+  Victor Marbran has gone and left me to meet a
+  shameful death. But I cannot face the scaffold. As
+  men go, I do not believe I am a coward and I am not
+  afraid to die. But the inexorable deliberation of
+  justice appals me. When I have written what I have
+  to write, I shall be hangman to myself. My pistol
+  they have taken away.
+
+  Victor Marbran has abandoned me. He had prepared
+  everything for his flight. Even if the law can
+  indict him as the virtual murderer of Hartley Parrish,
+  the law will never lay hands on him. Victor Marbran
+  neglects no detail. He will never be caught. But from
+  the Great Unknown for which I shall presently set
+  out, I shall stretch forth my hand and see that, here
+  or there, he does not escape the punishment he merits
+  for bringing down shame and disgrace upon me.
+
+  Just now he bade me stay in the office and finish
+  burning the papers in his desk. He promised he would
+  take me with him to a secure hiding-place which he
+  had made ready for some such emergency as this. I believed
+  him and, unsuspecting, stayed. And now he
+  has slipped away. He is gone and the house is empty.
+  I cannot follow him even did I know where he has
+  gone. I have only a very little money left and I am
+  tired. Very tired. I feel I cannot support the hue-and-cry
+  they will raise. Everything is still about me.
+  The quiet of the country is very soothing. To die like
+  this, with darkness falling and no sound but the
+  rustling rain, is the better way ...
+
+  Hartley Parrish was the man behind the great
+  syndicate which systematically ran the British blockade
+  of Germany in the war. He financed Marbran and
+  the international riff-raff of profiteers with whom Marbran
+  worked. Parrish supplied the funds, often the
+  goods as well,--at any rate, until they tightened up
+  the blockade,--while Marbran and the rest of the
+  bunch in neutral countries did the trading with the
+  enemy.
+
+  Parrish was a deep one. I say nothing against him.
+  He was a kind employer to me and I played him false,
+  for which I have been bitterly punished. To have
+  swindled Victor Marbran--I count it as nothing
+  against him, for that heartless, cruel man is deserving
+  of no pity ...
+
+  Parrish was the heart and soul, brains and muscle
+  of the syndicate. He lurked far in the background.
+  Any and every trail which might possibly lead back
+  to him was carefully effaced. He was secure as long
+  as Marbran and one or two other big men in the business
+  kept faith with him. Now and then, when the
+  British Intelligence were too hot on the trail, Parrish
+  and Marbran would give away one of the small fry
+  belonging to the organization and thus stave off suspicion.
+  They could do this in complete safety, for so
+  perfect was their organization that the small fry only
+  knew the small fry in the shallows and never the big
+  fish in the deep ...
+
+  But Hartley Parrish was in Marbran's hands. They
+  stood or fell together. Parrish knew this. But he was
+  a born gambler and insanely self-confident. He took a
+  chance with Marbran. It cost him his life.
+
+  All payments were made to Parrish. He was treasurer
+  and banker of the syndicate. Money came in by
+  all sorts of devious routes, sometimes from as far
+  afield as South or Central America. Parrish distributed
+  the profits. Everything was in his hands.
+
+  By the time the armistice came, the game had got
+  too hot. All the big fish except Marbran had cleared
+  out with their pile. But Marbran, like Parrish, was
+  a gambler. He stuck it out and stayed on.
+
+  Parrish played fair until the war was over. The
+  armistice, of course, put an end to the business. But
+  some months after the armistice a sum of L150,000
+  was paid to Parrish through a Spanish bank in settlement,
+  Marbran told me, for petrol indirectly delivered
+  to the German Admiralty. Parrish pouched the
+  lot. Not a penny did Marbran get.
+
+  Parrish and Marbran were old friends. They were
+  young men together on the Rand gold-fields in the
+  early days. In fact, I believe they went out to South
+  Africa together as penniless London lads. But Marbran
+  hated Parrish, though Parrish had, I believe,
+  been his benefactor in many ways. Marbran was
+  fiercely envious of the other because he realized that,
+  starting with an equal chance, Parrish had left him
+  far behind. Everything that Parrish touched prospered,
+  while Marbran was in perpetual financial
+  straits. He was Parrish's equal in courage, but not in
+  judgment.
+
+  Parrish calculated that Marbran would not dare to
+  denounce him. He had always taken the lead in their
+  schemes and he affected to disregard Marbran altogether.
+  So he left the latter's letters unanswered and
+  laughed at his threats. He was quite sure that Marbran
+  would never risk losing his pile by giving Parrish
+  away, for they were, of course, both British subjects
+  and both in it together ...
+
+  Marbran always distrusted Parrish, and long before
+  the breach came, he picked on me to act the spy on my
+  employer. I, too, was born a gambler, but, like Marbran,
+  I lacked the lucky touch which made Parrish a
+  millionaire. Speculation proved my ruin. I have often
+  thanked my God on my bended knees--as I shall do
+  again to-night before I pass over--that my insane
+  folly has ruined no one but myself ...
+
+  Already, when Hartley Parrish engaged me, I was
+  up to the neck in speculation. Up to that time, however,
+  I had managed to keep my head above water,
+  but the large salary on which Parrish started me
+  dazzled me. I tried a flutter in oil on a much larger
+  scale than anything I had hitherto attempted, with the
+  result that one day I found myself with a debt of
+  nine hundred pounds to meet and no assets to meet
+  it with. And I was two hundred pounds in debt to
+  Hartley Parrish's petty cash account, which I kept.
+
+  It was Victor Marbran who came to my rescue.
+  Parrish had sent me over to Rotterdam to fetch some
+  papers from Marbran. At this time I knew nothing of
+  Parrish's blockade-running business. Parrish never
+  took me into his confidence about it and the whole of
+  the correspondence went direct to him through a number
+  of secret channels with which I only gradually
+  became acquainted behind his back.
+
+  I had met Marbran several times in London and
+  also at Rotterdam. It had struck me that he had
+  formed a liking for me. On this particular visit to
+  Rotterdam Marbran took me out to dinner and encouraged
+  me to speak about myself. He was very
+  sympathetic, and this, coupled with the wine I had
+  taken, led me to open my heart to him. Without giving
+  myself away, I let him understand that I was in
+  considerable financial difficulties, which I set down to
+  the high cost of living as the result of the war.
+
+  Without a word of warning Marbran pulled out
+  his cheque-book.
+
+  "How much do you want," he asked, "to put you
+  straight?"
+
+  Nine hundred pounds, I told him.
+
+  He wrote the cheque at once there at the table. He
+  would advance me the money, he said, and put me
+  down for shares in a business in which he was interested.
+  It was a safe thing and profits were very high.
+  I could repay him at my leisure.
+
+  In this way I became a shareholder in Parrish's
+  blockade-running syndicate. The return I was to
+  make was to spy on my employer and to report to
+  Marbran the letters which Parrish received and the
+  names of the people whom he interviewed.
+
+  Of course, Marbran did not propose this plan at
+  once. When I took leave of him that night, I remember,
+  I all but broke down at the thought of his
+  unsolicited generosity. I have had a hard life, Miss
+  Trevert, and his seeming kindness broke me all up.
+  But I might have known.
+
+  I cashed Marbran's cheque and put back the two
+  hundred pounds I had taken from the petty cash account.
+  But I went on speculating. You see, I did
+  not believe Marbran's story about the shares he said
+  he would put me down for. I thought it was a charitable
+  tale to spare my feelings. So I plunged once
+  more in the confident hope of recovering enough to
+  repay my debt to Marbran.
+
+  A month later Marbran sent me a cheque for one
+  hundred pounds. He said it was the balance of fifteen
+  hundred pounds due to me as profits on my shares
+  less the nine hundred pounds I owed him and five
+  hundred pounds for my shares. But my speculations
+  had by this time gone wrong again, and I was heartily
+  glad presently to receive a further cheque for two
+  hundred pounds from Marbran. From that time on I
+  got from Marbran sums varying between one hundred
+  and fifty pounds and five hundred pounds a month.
+
+  When Marbran made me his shameful offer, I rejected
+  it with indignation. But I was fast in the trap.
+  Marbran explained to me in great detail and with the
+  utmost candour the working of the Parrish syndicate.
+  He let me know very plainly that I was as deeply
+  implicated as Parrish and he. I was a shareholder;
+  I had received and was receiving my share of the
+  profits. In my distress and shame I threatened to
+  expose the pair of them. Had I known the source of
+  his money, I told him, I should never have accepted it.
+  At that Marbran laughed contemptuously.
+
+  "You tell that yarn to the police," he sneered,
+  "and hear what they say!"
+
+  And then I realized that I was in the net.
+
+  I make no excuses for myself. I shall make none
+  to the Great Judge before whom in a little while I
+  shall appear. I had not the moral force to resist Marbran.
+  I did his bidding: I continued to take his
+  money and I held my peace.
+
+  And then came the breach between Parrish and
+  Marbran. I was the cause of it. But for me, his
+  trusty spy, Marbran would have known nothing of
+  this payment of L150,000 which Parrish received
+  from Spain, and this tragedy would not have happened.
+  God forgive me ...
+
+  Marbran appealed to Parrish in vain. What he
+  wrote I never knew, for, shortly after, Parrish quietly
+  and without any explanation took the confidential
+  work out of my hands. I believe he suspected then
+  who Marbran's spy was. But he said nothing to me
+  of his suspicions at that time ...
+
+  Finally, Marbran came to London. It was on Tuesday
+  of last week. I had been up in Sheffield on business,
+  and on my return I found Marbran waiting for
+  me at my rooms.
+
+  He was like a man possessed. Never before have I
+  witnessed such an outburst of ungovernable rage. Parrish,
+  it appears, had declined to see him. He swore
+  that Parrish should not get the better of him if he had
+  to kill him first. I can see Marbran now as he sat on
+  my bed, his livid face distorted with fury.
+
+  "I'll give him a last chance," he cried, "and then,
+  by God, let our smart Alec look out!"
+
+  This sort of talk frightened me. I knew Marbran
+  meant mischief. He was a bad man to cross. I was desperately
+  afraid he would waylay Parrish and bring
+  down disaster on the three of us. I did my utmost to
+  put the idea of violence out of his mind. I begged
+  him to content himself with trying to frighten Parrish
+  into paying up before trying other means.
+
+  My suggestion seemed to awaken some old memory
+  in Marbran's mind.
+
+  "By Gad, Jeekes," he said, after a moment's
+  thought, "you've given me an idea. Parrish has a
+  yellow streak. He's scared of a gun. I saw it once,
+  years ago, in a roughhouse we got into at Krugersdorp
+  on the Rand. Damn it, I know how to bring the yellow
+  dog to heel, and I'll tell you how we'll do it ..."
+
+  He then unfolded his plan. He would send Parrish
+  a last demand for a settlement, threatening him with
+  death if he did not pay up. The warning would reach
+  Parrish on the following Saturday. Marbran would
+  contrive that he should receive it by the first post.
+  As soon as possible thereafter I was to go to Parrish
+  boldly and demand his answer.
+
+  "And you'll take a gun," Marbran said, peering
+  at me with his cunning little eyes, "and you'll show it.
+  And if at the sight of it you don't get the brass, then
+  I don't know my old pal, Mister Hartley Parrish,
+  Esquire!"
+
+  The proposal appalled me. I knew nothing of
+  Hartley Parrish's "yellow streak." I knew him only
+  as a hard and resolute man, swift in decision and ruthless
+  in action. Whatever happened, I argued, Parrish
+  would discharge me and there was every prospect of
+  his handing me over to the police as well.
+
+  Marbran was deaf to my reasoning. I had nothing
+  to fear, he protested. Parrish would collapse at the
+  first sign of force. And as for my losing my job, Marbran
+  would find me another and a better one in his
+  office at Rotterdam.
+
+  Still I held out. The chance of losing my position,
+  even of being sent to gaol, daunted me less, I think,
+  than the admission to Parrish of the blackly ungrateful
+  role I had played towards him. In the end I told
+  Marbran to do his dirty work himself.
+
+  But I spoke without conviction. I realized that Marbran
+  held me in a cleft stick and that he realized it,
+  too. He wasted no further time in argument. I knew
+  what I had to do, he said, and I would do it. Otherwise ...
+
+  He left me in an agony of mental stress. At that
+  time, I swear to Heaven, Miss Trevert, I was determined
+  to let Marbran do his worst rather than lend
+  myself to this odious blackmailing trick, my own
+  suggestion, as I bitterly remembered. But for the rest
+  of the week his parting threat rang in my ears. Unless
+  he heard by the following Sunday that I had
+  confronted Parrish and called his bluff, as he put it,
+  the British police should have word, not only of Parrish's
+  activities in trading with the enemy, but of
+  mine as well.
+
+  It was no idle threat. Parrish and Marbran had
+  put men away before. I could give you the names ...
+
+  It is quite dark now. It must be an hour since
+  Greve took you away. Soon he will be back with the
+  police to arrest me and I must have finished by then,
+  finished with the story, finished with life ...
+
+  Last week I worked at Parrish's city office. I told
+  you how he kept me off his confidential work. On
+  Saturday morning I went round to the house in St.
+  James's Square to see whether Marbran had really
+  sent his warning. Archer, my colleague, who was acting
+  as confidential secretary in my stead, was there.
+  Parrish was at Harkings, he told me. Archer was
+  going down by car that morning with his mail. It
+  included two "blue letters" which Archer would, according
+  to orders, hand to Parrish unopened.
+
+  These "blue letters," as we secretaries used to call
+  them, written on a striking bluish paper, were the
+  means by which all communications passed between
+  Parrish and Marbran on the syndicate's business.
+  They were drafted in conventional code and came to
+  Parrish from all parts of Europe and in all kinds of
+  ways. No one saw them except himself. By his strict
+  injunctions, they were to be opened only by himself
+  in person.
+
+  When Archer told me that two "blue letters" had
+  come, I knew that Marbran had kept his word. Though
+  my mind was not made up, instinct told me I was
+  going to play my part ...
+
+  I could not face the shame of exposure. I was
+  brought up in a decent English home. To stand in
+  the dock charged with prolonging the sufferings of
+  our soldiers and sailors in order to make money was
+  a prospect I could not even contemplate.
+
+  I thought it all out that Saturday morning as I
+  stood at the dressing-table in my bedroom by the open
+  drawer in which my automatic pistol lay. It was one
+  given me by Parrish some years before at a time
+  when he thought we might be going on a trip to
+  Rumania ...
+
+  I slipped the pistol into my pocket. I felt like a man
+  in a dream. I believe I went down to Harkings by
+  train, but I have no clear recollection of the journey.
+  I seemed to come to my senses only when I found
+  myself standing on the high bank of the rosery at
+  Harkings, looking down upon the library window.
+
+  Outside in the gardens it was nearly dark, but from
+  the window fell a stream of subdued light. The curtains
+  had not been drawn and the window was open
+  at the bottom. Parrish sat at the desk. Only the desk-lamp
+  was lit, so that his face was in shadow, but
+  his two hands, stretched out on the blotter in front
+  of him, lay in a pool of light, and I caught the gleam
+  of his gold signet ring.
+
+  He was not writing or working. He seemed to be
+  thinking. I watched him in a fascinated sort of way.
+  I had never seen him sit thus idly at his desk before ...
+
+  My brain worked quite lucidly now. As I looked
+  at him, I suddenly realised that I had a golden opportunity
+  for speaking to him unobserved. The gardens
+  were absolutely deserted: the library wing was very
+  still. If he were a man to be frightened into submission,
+  my sudden appearance, following upon the receipt
+  of the threatening letter, would be likely to help
+  in achieving this result.
+
+  I walked softly down the steps to the window. I
+  stood close up to the sill.
+
+  "Mr. Parrish," I said, "Victor Marbran has sent
+  me for his answer."
+
+  In a flash he was on his feet.
+
+  "Who's there?" he cried out in alarm.
+
+  His voice shook, and I could see his hand tremble
+  in the lamplight as he clutched at the desk. Then I
+  knew that he was badly frightened, and the discovery
+  gave me courage.
+
+  "Are you going to settle with Marbran or are you
+  not?" I said.
+
+  At that he peered forward. All of a sudden his
+  manner changed.
+
+  "What in hell does this mean, Jeekes?"
+
+  His voice quavered no longer. It was hard and
+  menacing.
+
+  But I had burnt my boats behind me now.
+
+  "It means," I answered boldly, "that you've got
+  to pay up. And you've got to pay up now!"
+
+  In a couple of quick strides he was round the desk
+  and coming at me as I stood with my chest pressing
+  against the window-sill. His hands were thrust in his
+  jacket pockets. His face was red with anger.
+
+  "You dawggorn dirty little rathole spy,"--he spat
+  the words at me in a low, threatening voice,--"I
+  guessed that lowdown skunk Marbran had been getting
+  at some of my people!"
+
+  His voice rose in a sudden gust of passion.
+
+  "You rotten little worm! You'd try and bounce
+  me, would you? You've come to the wrong shop for
+  that, Mr. Spying Jeekes ..."
+
+  His manner was incredibly insulting. So was the
+  utter contempt with which he looked at me. This
+  man, who had trembled with fear at the unknown, recovered
+  his self-control on finding that the menace
+  came from the menial, the hireling, he despised. I felt
+  the blood rush in a hot flood to my head. I lost all
+  self-control. I screamed aloud at him.
+
+  "There's no bounce about it this time! If you
+  don't pay up, you know what to expect!"
+
+  I had been holding my pistol out of his sight below
+  the window-ledge, but on this I swung it up and
+  levelled it at him.
+
+  He sprang back a pace, the colour fading on the
+  instant from his face, his mouth twisted awry in a
+  horrid paroxysm of fear. Even in that subdued light
+  I could see that his cheeks were as white as paper.
+
+  But then in a flash his right hand went up. I saw
+  the pistol he held, but before I could make a movement
+  there was a loud, raucous hiss of air and a
+  bullet whistled past my ear into the darkness of the
+  gardens. How he missed me at that range I don't
+  know, but, seeing me standing there, he came at me
+  again with the pistol in his hand ...
+
+  And then you, Miss Trevert, cried out, "Hartley,"
+  and rattled the handle of the door. Your cry merged
+  in a deafening report. Parrish, who was quite close
+  to me, and advancing, stopped short with a little
+  startled exclamation, his eyes reproachful, full of
+  surprise. He stood there and swayed, looking at me
+  all the time, then crashed backwards on the floor. And
+  I found myself staring at the smoking pistol in my
+  hand ...
+
+  It was your scream that brought me to my senses.
+  My mind cleared instantly. I knew I must act quickly.
+  The house would be alarmed directly, and before that
+  happened, I must be clear of the grounds. Yet I
+  knew that before I went I must do something to make
+  myself safe ...
+
+  I stood at the window staring down at the dead
+  man. His eyes were terrible. Like a suicide he looked,
+  I thought. And then it flashed across my mind that
+  only one shot had been heard and that our pistols
+  were identical and fired the same ammunition. The
+  silencer! The silencer could save me. With that
+  removed, the suicide theory might pass muster: at any
+  rate, it would delay other investigations and give me
+  a start ...
+
+  In a matter of a second or two I believe I thought
+  of everything. I did not overlook the danger of leaving
+  finger-prints or foot-marks about. I had not
+  taken off my gloves, and my boots were perfectly dry.
+  In climbing into the room I was most careful to see
+  that I did not mark the window-sill or scratch the
+  paintwork ...
+
+  I stood beside the body and I caught the dead man's
+  hand. It was fat and soft and still warm. The touch
+  of it made me reel with horror. I turned my face
+  away from his so as not to see his eyes again....
+
+  I got the silencer. Parrish had shown it to me and I
+  knew how to detach it....
+
+  I went back through the window as carefully as I
+  had come in. And I pushed the window down. Parrish
+  would have done that, I thought, if he had meant
+  to commit suicide. And then my nerve went. The window
+  frightened me. The blank glass with the silent
+  room beyond;--it reminded me of Parrish's sightless
+  gaze. I turned and ran....
+
+  I did not mean to kill. As there is a God in ...
+
+On that unfinished sentence the confession
+ended.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. Bardy put the bundle of manuscript down on the desk and, dropping
+his eyeglass from his eye, caught it deftly and began to polish it
+vigorously with his pocket handkerchief. As no one spoke, he said:
+
+"That's all. It ends there!"
+
+He looked round the circle of earnest faces. Then Horace Trevert
+crossed to the desk.
+
+"Robin," he said, and held out his hand, "I want to apologize. I ...
+we ... behaved very badly ..."
+
+Robin grasped the boy's hand.
+
+"Not a word about that, Horace, old boy," he said. "Besides, Mary is
+putting all that right, you know!"
+
+"She told me," replied Horace; "and, Robin, I'm tremendously glad!"
+
+"Mr. Greve!"
+
+Robin turned to find Mr. Manderton, large and impressive, at his elbow.
+
+"Might I have a word with you?"
+
+Robin followed the detective across the room to the window.
+
+Mr. Manderton seemed a trifle embarrassed.
+
+"Er--- Mr. Greve," he said, clearing his throat rather nervously, "I
+should like to--er,--offer you my congratulations on the remarkably
+accurate view you took of this case. I should have been able to prove to
+you, I believe, but for this curious interruption, that your view and
+mine practically coincided. It has been a pleasure to work with you,
+sir!"
+
+He cast a hasty glance over his shoulder at the other occupants of the
+room, who were gathered round the desk.
+
+"I'm not a society man, Mr. Greve," he added, "and I have a lot of work
+on my hands regarding the case. So I think I'll run off now ..."
+
+He broke off, gave Robin a large hand, and, looking neither to right nor
+to left, made a hurried exit from the room, taking Inspector Humphries
+with him.
+
+"Now that we are just among ourselves"--the solicitor was speaking--"I
+think I may seize the opportunity of saying a word about Mr. Parrish's
+will. Miss Trevert, as you know, is made principal legatee, but I
+understand from her that she does not propose to accept the inheritance.
+I will not comment on this decision of hers, which does her moral sense,
+at any rate, infinite credit, but I should observe that Mr. Parrish has
+left directions for the payment of an allowance--I may say, a most
+handsome allowance--to Lady Margaret Trevert during her ladyship's
+lifetime. This is a provision over which Miss Trevert's decision, of
+course, can have no influence. I would only remark that, according to
+Mr. Parrish's instructions, this allowance will be paid from the
+dividends on a percentage of his holdings in Hornaway's under the new
+scheme. I have not yet had an opportunity of looking further into Mr.
+Parrish's affairs in the light of the information which Mr. Greve
+obtained in Rotterdam, but I have reason to believe that he kept his
+interest in Hornaway's and his--ahem!--other activities entirely
+separate. If this can be definitely established to my own satisfaction
+and to yours, my dear Miss Trevert, I see no reason why you should not
+modify your decision at least in respect of Mr. Parrish's interest in
+Hornaway's."
+
+Mary Trevert looked at Robin and then at the solicitor.
+
+"No!" she said; "not a penny as far as I am concerned. With Mother the
+case is different. I told her last night of my decision in the matter.
+She disapproves of it. That is why she is not here to-day. But my mind
+is made up."
+
+Mr. Bardy adjusted his eyeglass in his eye and gazed at the girl. His
+face wore an expression of pain mingled with compassion.
+
+"I will see Lady Margaret after lunch," he said rather stiffly.
+
+Then the door opened and Bude appeared.
+
+"Luncheon is served, Miss!"
+
+He stood there, a portly, dignified figure in sober black, solemn of
+visage, sonorous of voice, a living example of the triumph of
+established tradition over the most savage buffetings of Fate. His
+enunciation was, if anything, more mellow, his demeanour more pontifical
+than of yore.
+
+Bude was once more in the service of a County Family.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Yellow Streak, by Williams, Valentine
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Yellow Streak, by Williams, Valentine
+
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
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+Title: The Yellow Streak
+
+Author: Williams, Valentine
+
+Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9974]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on November 5, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO Latin-1
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW STREAK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Dave Morgan and the PG Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE YELLOW STREAK
+
+BY VALENTINE WILLIAMS
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+I. THE MASTER OF HARKINGS
+
+II. AT TWILIGHT
+
+III. A DISCOVERY
+
+IV. BETWEEN THE DESK AND THE WINDOW
+
+V. IN WHICH BUDE LOOKS AT ROBIN GREVE
+
+VI. THE LETTER
+
+VII. VOICES IN THE LIBRARY
+
+VIII. ROBIN GOES TO MARY
+
+IX. MR. MANDERTON
+
+X. A SMOKING CHIMNEY
+
+XI. "... SPEED THE PARTING GUEST!"
+
+XII. MR. MANDERTON is NONPLUSSED
+
+XIII. JEEKES
+
+XIV. A SHEET OF BLUE PAPER
+
+XV. SHADOWS
+
+XVI. THE INTRUDER
+
+XVII. A FRESH CLUE
+
+XVIII. THE SILENT SHOT
+
+XIX. MR. MANDERTON LAYS HIS CARDS ON THE TABLE
+
+XX. THE CODE KING
+
+XXI. A WORD WITH MR. JEEKES
+
+XXII. THE MAN WITH THE YELLOW FACE
+
+XXIII. TWO'S COMPANY
+
+XXIV. THE METAMORPHOSIS OF MR. SCHULZ
+
+XXV. THE READING OF THE RIDDLE
+
+XXVI. THE FIGURE IN THE DOORWAY
+
+XXVII. AN INTERRUPTION FROM BEYOND
+
+XXVIII. THE DEATH OF HARTLEY PARRISH
+
+
+
+
+THE YELLOW STREAK
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+THE MASTER OF HARKINGS
+
+Of all the luxuries of which Hartley Parrish's sudden rise to wealth
+gave him possession, Bude, his butler, was the acquisition in which he
+took the greatest delight and pride. Bude was a large and comfortable-
+looking person, triple-chinned like an archdeacon, bald-headed except for
+a respectable and saving edging of dark down, clean-shaven, benign of
+countenance, with a bold nose which to the psychologist bespoke both
+ambition and inborn cleverness. He had a thin, tight mouth which in
+itself alone was a symbol of discreet reticence, the hall-mark of the
+trusted family retainer.
+
+
+Bude had spent his life in the service of the English aristocracy. The
+Earl of Tipperary, Major-General Lord Bannister, the Dowager Marchioness
+of Wiltshire, and Sir Herbert Marcobrunner, Bart., had in turn watched
+his gradual progress from pantry-boy to butler. Bude was a man whose
+maxim had been the French saying, "_Je prends mon bien o� je le
+trouve_."
+
+In his thirty years' service he had always sought to discover and draw
+from those sources of knowledge which were at his disposal. From
+MacTavish, who had supervised Lord Tipperary's world-famous gardens, he
+had learnt a great deal about flowers, so that the arrangement of the
+floral decorations was always one of the features at Hartley Parrish's
+_soign�_ dinner-parties. From Brun, the unsurpassed _chef_, whom Lord
+Bannister had picked up when serving with the Guards in Egypt, he had
+gathered sufficient knowledge of the higher branches of the cuisine to
+enable Hartley Parrish to leave the arrangement of the menu in his
+butler's hands.
+
+Bude would have been the first to admit that, socially speaking, his
+present situation was not the equal of the positions he had held. There
+was none of the staid dignity about his present employer which was
+inborn in men like Lord Tipperary or Lord Bannister, and which Sir
+Herbert Marcobrunner, with the easy assimilative faculty of his race,
+had very successfully acquired. Below middle height, thick-set and
+powerfully built, with a big head, narrow eyes, and a massive chin,
+Hartley Parrish, in his absorbed concentration on his business, had no
+time for the acquisition or practice of the Eton manner.
+
+It was characteristic of Parrish that, seeing Bude at a dinner-party at
+Marcobruaner's, he should have engaged him on the spot. It took Bude a
+week to get over his shock at the manner in which the offer was made.
+Parrish had approached him as he was supervising the departure of the
+guests. Waving aside the footman who offered to help him into his
+overcoat, Parrish had asked Bude point-blank what wages he was getting.
+Bude mentioned the generous remuneration he was receiving from Sir
+Herbert Marcobrunner, whereupon Parrish had remarked:
+
+"Come to me and I'll double it. I'll give you a week to think it over.
+Let my secretary know!"
+
+After a few discreet enquiries, Bude, faithful to his maxim, had
+accepted Parrish's offer. Marcobrunner was furiously angry, but, being
+anxious to interest Parrish in a deal, sagely kept his feelings to
+himself. And Bude had never regretted the change. He found Parrish an
+exacting, but withal a just and a generous master, and he was not long
+in realizing that, as long as he kept Harkings, Parrish's country place
+where he spent the greater part of his time, running smoothly according
+to Parrish's schedule, he could count on a life situation.
+
+The polish of manner, the sober dignity of dress, acquired from years of
+acute observation in the service of the nobility, were to be seen as, at
+the hour of five, in the twilight of this bleak autumn afternoon, Bude
+moved majestically into the lounge-hall of Harkings and leisurely
+pounded the gong for tea.
+
+The muffled notes of the gong swelled out brazenly through the silent
+house. They echoed down the softly carpeted corridors to the library
+where the master of the house sat at his desk. For days he had been
+immersed in the figures of the new issue which Hornaway's, the vast
+engineering business of his creation, was about to put on the market.
+They reverberated up the fine old oak staircase to the luxurious Louis
+XV bedroom, where Lady Margaret Trevert lay on her bed idly smiling
+through an amusing novel. They crashed through the thickly padded baize
+doors leading to the servants' hall, where, at sixpence a hundred,
+Parrish's man, Jay, was partnering Lady Margaret's maid against Mrs.
+Heever, the housekeeper, and Robert, the chauffeur, at a friendly game
+of bridge. And they even boomed distantly into the far-away
+billiard-room and broke into the talk which Robin Greve was having with
+Mary Trevert.
+
+"Damn!" exclaimed Greve savagely, as the distant gonging came to his
+ears.
+
+"It's the gong for tea," said Mary demurely.
+
+She was sitting on one of the big leather sofas lining the long room.
+Robin, as he gazed down at her from where he stood with his back against
+the edge of the billiard-table, thought what an attractive picture she
+made in the half-light.
+
+The lamps over the table were lit, but the rest of the room was almost
+dark. In that lighting the thickly waving dark hair brought out the fine
+whiteness of the girl's skin. There was love, and a great desire for
+love, in her large dark eyes, but the clear-cut features, the
+well-shaped chin, and the firm mouth, the lips a little full, spoke of
+ambition and the love of power.
+
+"I've been here three whole days," said Robin, "and I've not had two
+words with you alone, Mary. And hardly have I got you to myself for a
+quiet game of pills when that rotten gong goes ..."
+
+"I'm sorry you're disappointed at missing your game," the girl replied
+mischievously, "but I expect you will be able to get a game with Horace
+or one of the others after tea ..."
+
+Robin kicked the carpet savagely.
+
+"You know perfectly well I don't want to play billiards ..."
+
+He looked up and caught the girl's eye. For a fraction of a second he
+saw in it the expression which every man at least once in his life looks
+to see in the eyes of one particular woman. In the girl's dark-blue eyes
+fringed with long black lashes he saw the dumb appeal, the mute
+surrender, which, as surely as the white flag on the battlements in war,
+is the signal of capitulation in woman.
+
+But the expression was gone on the instant. It passed so swiftly that,
+for a second, Robin, seeing the gently mocking glance that succeeded it,
+wondered whether he had been mistaken.
+
+But he was a man of action--a glance at his long, well-moulded head, his
+quick, wide-open eye, and his square jaw would have told you that--and
+he spoke.
+
+"It's no use beating about the bush," he said. "Mary, I've got so fond
+of you that I'm just miserable when you're away from me ..."
+
+"Oh, Robin, please ..."
+
+Mary Trevert stood up and remained standing, her head turned a little
+away from him, a charming silhouette in her heather-blue shooting-suit.
+
+The young man took her listless hand.
+
+"My dear," he said, "you and I have been pals all our lives. It was
+only at the front that I began to realize just how much you meant to me.
+And now I know I can't do without you. I've never met any one who has
+been to me just what you are. And, Mary, I must have you as my wife ..."
+
+The girl remained motionless. She kept her face averted. The room seemed
+very still.
+
+"Oh, Robin, please ..." she murmured again.
+
+Resolutely the young man put an arm about her and drew her to him.
+Slowly, reluctantly, she let him have his way. But she would not look at
+him.
+
+"Oh, my dear," he whispered, kissing her hair, "don't you care a
+little?"
+
+She remained silent.
+
+"Won't you look at me, Mary?"
+
+There was a hint of huskiness in his voice. He raised her face to his.
+
+"I saw in your eyes just now that you cared for me," he whispered; "oh,
+my Mary, say that you do!"
+
+Then he bent down and kissed her. For a brief instant their lips met and
+he felt the caress of the girl's arm about his neck.
+
+"Oh, Robin!" she said.
+
+That was all.
+
+But then she drew away.
+
+Reluctantly the man let her go. The colour had faded from his cheeks
+when she looked at him again as he stood facing her in the twilight of
+the billiard-room.
+
+"Robin, dear," she said, "I'm going to hurt you."
+
+The young man seemed to have had a premonition of what was coming, for
+he betrayed no sign of surprise, but remained motionless, very erect,
+very pale.
+
+"Dear," said the girl with a little despairing shrug, "it's hopeless! We
+can't afford to marry!"
+
+"Not yet, I know," said Robin, "but I'm getting on well, Mary, and in
+another year or two ..."
+
+The girl looked down at the point of her little brogue shoe.
+
+"I don't know what you will think of me," she said, "but I can't
+accept ... I can't face ... I ..."
+
+"You can't face the idea of being the wife of a man who has his way to
+make. Is that it?"
+
+The voice was rather stern.
+
+The girl looked up impulsively.
+
+"I can't, Robin. I should never make you happy. Mother and I are as poor
+as church-mice. All the money in the family goes to keep Horace in the
+Army and pay for my clothes."
+
+She looked disdainfully at her pretty suit.
+
+"All this," she went on with a little hopeless gesture indicating her
+tailor-made, "is Mother's investment. No, no, it's true ... I can tell
+you as a friend, Robin, dear, we are living on our capital until I have
+caught a rich husband ..."
+
+"Oh, my dear," said Robin softly, "don't say things like that ..."
+
+The girl laughed a little defiantly.
+
+"But it's true," she answered. "The war has halved Mother's income and
+there's nothing between us and bankruptcy but a year or so ... unless I
+get married!"
+
+Her voice trembled a little and she turned away.
+
+"Mary," said the young man hoarsely, "for God's sake, don't do that!"
+
+He moved a step towards her, but she drew back.
+
+"It's all right," she said with the tears glistening wet on her face,
+and dabbed at her eyes with her tiny handkerchief, "but, oh, Robin boy,
+why couldn't you have held your tongue?"
+
+"I suppose I had no right to speak ..." the young man began.
+
+The girl sighed.
+
+"I oughtn't to say it ... now," she said slowly, and looked across at
+Robin with shining eyes, "but, Robin dear, I'm ... I'm glad you did!"
+
+She paused a moment as though turning something over in her mind.
+
+"I've ... I've got something to tell you, Robin," she began. "No, stay
+where you are! We must be sensible now."
+
+She paused and looked at him.
+
+"Robin," she said slowly, "I've promised to marry somebody else ..."
+
+There was a moment's silence.
+
+"Who is it?" Robin asked in a hard voice.
+
+The girl made no answer.
+
+"Who is it? Do I know him?"
+
+Still the girl was silent, but she gave a hardly perceptible nod.
+
+"Not ...? No, no, Mary, it isn't true? It can't be true?"
+
+The girl nodded, her eyes to the ground.
+
+"It's a secret still," she said. "No one knows but Mother. Hartley
+doesn't want it announced yet!"
+
+The sound of the Christian name suddenly seemed to infuriate Greve.
+
+"By God!" he cried, "it shan't be! You must be mad, Mary, to think of
+marrying a man like Hartley Parrish. A fellow who's years older than
+you, who thinks of nothing but money, who stood out of the war and made
+a fortune while men of his own age were doing the fighting for him! It's
+unthinkable ... it's ... it's damnable to think of a gross, ill-bred
+creature like Parrish ..."
+
+"Robin!" the girl cried, "you seem to forget that we're staying in his
+house. In spite of all you say he seems to be good enough for you to
+come and stay with ..."
+
+"I only came because you were to be here. You know that perfectly well.
+I admit one oughtn't to blackguard one's host, but, Mary, you must see
+that this marriage is absolutely out of the question!"
+
+The girl began to bridle up,
+
+"Why?" she asked loftily.
+
+"Because ... because Parrish is not the sort of man who will make you
+happy ..."
+
+"And why not, may I ask? He's very kind and very generous, and I believe
+he likes me ..."
+
+Robin Greve made a gesture of despair.
+
+"My dear girl," he said, trying to control himself to speak quietly,
+"what do you know about this man? Nothing. But there are beastly stories
+circulating about his life ..."
+
+Mary Trevert laughed cynically.
+
+"My dear old Robin," she said, "they tell stories about every bachelor.
+And I hardly think you are an unbiassed judge ..."
+
+Robin Greve was pacing up and down the floor.
+
+"You're crazy, Mary," he said, stopping in front of her, "to dream you
+can ever be happy with a man like Hartley Parrish. The man's a ruthless
+egoist. He thinks of nothing but money and he's out to buy you just
+exactly as you ..."
+
+"As I am ready to sell myself!" the girl echoed. "And I _am_ ready,
+Robin. It's all very well for you to stand there and preach ideals at
+me, but I'm sick and disgusted at the life we've been leading for the
+past three years, hovering on the verge of ruin all the time, dunned by
+tradesmen and having to borrow even from servants ... yes, from old
+servants of the family ... to pay Mother's bridge debts. Mother's a good
+sort. Father spent all her money for her and she was brought up in
+exactly the same helpless way as she brought up me. I can do absolutely
+nothing except the sort of elementary nursing which we all learnt in the
+war, and if I don't marry well Mother will have to keep a boarding-house
+or do something ghastly like that. I'm not going to pretend that I'm
+thinking only of her, because I'm not. I can't face a long engagement
+with no prospects except castles in Spain. I don't mean to be callous,
+Robin, but I expect I am naturally hard. Hartley Parrish is a good sort.
+He's very fond of me, and he will see that Mother lives comfortably for
+the rest of her life. I've promised to marry him because I like him and
+he's a suitable match. And I don't see by what right you try and run him
+down to me behind his back! If it's jealousy, then it shows a very petty
+spirit!"
+
+Robin Greve stepped close up to Mary Trevert. His eyes were very angry
+and his jaw was set very square.
+
+"If you are determined to sell yourself to the highest bidder," he said,
+"I suppose there's no stopping you. But you're making a mistake. If
+Parrish were all you claim for him, you might not repent of his marriage
+so long as you did not care for somebody else. But I know you love me,
+and it breaks my heart to see you blundering into everlasting
+unhappiness ..."
+
+"At least Hartley will be able to keep me," the girl flashed out.
+Directly she had spoken she regretted her words.
+
+A red flush spread slowly over Robin Greve's face.
+
+Then he laughed drily.
+
+"You won't be the first woman he's kept!" be retorted, and stamped out
+of the billiard-room.
+
+The girl gave a little gasp. Then she reddened with anger.
+
+"How dare he?" she cried, stamping her foot; "how dare he?"
+
+She sank on the lounge and, burying her face in her hands, burst into
+tears.
+
+"Oh, Robin, Robin, dear!" she sobbed--incomprehensibly, for she was a
+woman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+AT TWILIGHT
+
+There is a delicious snugness, a charming lack of formality, about the
+ceremony of afternoon tea in an English country-house--it is much too
+indefinite a rite to dignify it by the name of meal--which makes it the
+most pleasant reunion of the day. For English country-house parties
+consist, for the most part, of a succession of meals to which the guests
+flock the more congenially as, in the interval, they have contrived to
+avoid one another's companionship.
+
+And so, scarcely had the last reverberation of Bude's measured gonging
+died away than the French window leading from the lounge-hall on to the
+terrace was pushed open and two of Hartley Parrish's guests emerged from
+the falling darkness without into the pleasant comfort of the firelit
+room.
+
+They were an oddly matched pair. The one was a tubby little man with
+short bristly grey hair and a short bristly grey moustache to match. His
+stumpy legs looked ridiculous in his baggy golf knickers of rough tweed,
+which he wore with gaiters extending half-way up his short, stout
+calves. As he came in, he slung off the heavy tweed shooting-cloak he
+had been wearing and placed it with his Homburg hat on a chair.
+
+This was Dr. Romain, whose name thus written seems indecently naked
+without the string of complementary initials indicative of the honours
+and degrees which years of bacteriological research had heaped upon him.
+His companion was a tall, slim, fair-haired young man, about as good a
+specimen of the young Englishman turned out by the English public school
+as one could find. He was extremely good-looking with a proud eye and
+finely chiselled features, but the suggestion of youth in his face and
+figure was countered by a certain poise, a kind of latent seriousness
+which contrasted strangely with the general cheery _insouciance_ of his
+type.
+
+A soldier would have spotted the symptoms at once, "Five years of war!"
+would have been his verdict--that long and strange entry into life of so
+many thousands of England's manhood which impressed the stamp of
+premature seriousness on all those who came through. And Captain Sir
+Horace Trevert, Bart., D.S.O., had gone from his famous school straight
+into a famous regiment, had won his decoration before he was twenty-one,
+and been twice wounded into the bargain.
+
+"Where's everybody?" queried the doctor, rubbing his hands at the
+blazing log-fire.
+
+"Robin and Mary went off to play billiards," said the young man, "and I
+left old Parrish after lunch settling down for an afternoon's work in
+the library ..."
+
+He crossed the room to the fire and stood with his back to the flame.
+
+"What a worker that man is!" ejaculated the doctor. "He had one of his
+secretaries down this morning with a car full of portfolios,
+blue-prints, specifications, and God knows what else. Parrish polished
+the whole lot off and packed the fellow back to London before mid-day.
+Some of Hornaway's people who were waiting went in next, and he was
+through with them by lunch-time!"
+
+Trevert wagged his head in admiration.
+
+"And he told me he wanted to have a quiet week-end!" he said. "That's
+why he has no secretary living in the house."
+
+"A quiet week-end!" repeated Romain drily. "Ye gods!"
+
+"He's a marvel for work," said the young man.
+
+"He certainly is," replied the doctor. "He's done wonders with
+Hornaway's. When he took the place over at the beginning of the war,
+they were telling me, it was a little potty concern making toy air guns
+or lead soldiers or something of the sort. And they never stop coining
+money now, it seems. Parrish must be worth millions ..."
+
+"Lucky devil!" said Trevert genially.
+
+"Ah!" observed the doctor sententiously, "but he's had to work for it,
+mark you! He's had the most extraordinary life, they tell me. He was at
+one period of his career a bartender on the Rand, a man was saying at
+the club the other day. But most of his life he's lived in Canada, I
+gather. He was telling us the other evening, before you and Mary came
+down, that he was once a brakeman on the Canadian Pacific Railway. He
+said he invested all his savings in books on engineering and read them
+in his brakeman's van on his trips across the Dominion. Ah! he's a fine
+fellow!"
+
+He lowered his voice discreetly.
+
+"And a devilish good match, eh, Horace?"
+
+The young man flushed slightly.
+
+"Yes," he said unwillingly.
+
+"A dam' good match for somebody," urged the doctor with a malicious
+twinkle in his eye.
+
+"Here, Doc," said Horace, suddenly turning on him, "you stick to your
+bugs and germs. What do you know about matchmaking, anyway?"
+
+Dr. Romain chuckled.
+
+"We bacteriologists are trained observers. One learns a lot watching the
+life and habits of the bacillus, Horace, my boy. And between ourselves,
+Parrish would be a lucky fellow if ..."
+
+Trevert turned to him. His face was quite serious, and there was a
+little touch of hauteur in his voice. He was the 17th Baronet.
+
+"My dear Doc," he said, "aren't you going a bit fast? Parrish is a very
+good chap, but one knows nothing about him ..."
+
+Sagely the doctor nodded his grizzled head.
+
+"That's true," he agreed. "He appears to have no relatives and nobody
+over here seems to have heard of him before the war. A man was saying at
+the Athenaeum the other day ..."
+
+Trevert touched his elbow. Bude had appeared, portly, imperturbable,
+bearing a silver tray set out with the appliances for tea.
+
+"Bude," cried Trevert, "don't tell me there are no tea-cakes again!"
+
+"On the contrairey, sir," answered the butler in the richly sonorous
+voice pitched a little below the normal register which he employed
+abovestairs, "the cook has had her attention drawn to it. There are
+tea-cakes, sir!"
+
+With a certain dramatic effect--for Bude was a trifle theatrical in
+everything he did--he whipped the cover off a dish and displayed a
+smoking pile of deliciously browned scones.
+
+"Bude," said Trevert, "when I'm a Field Marshal, I'll see you get the
+O.B.E. for this!"
+
+The butler smiled a nicely regulated three-by-one smile, a little
+deprecatory as was his wont. Then, like a tank taking a corner, he
+wheeled majestically and turned to cross the lounge. To reach the green
+baize door leading to the servants' quarters he had to cross the outer
+hall from which led corridors on the right and left. That on the right
+led to the billiard-room; that on the left to the big drawing-room with
+the library beyond.
+
+As Bude reached the great screen of tooled Spanish leather which
+separated a corner of the lounge from the outer hall, Robin Greve came
+hastily through the glass door of the corridor leading from the
+billiard-room. The butler with a pleasant smile drew back a little to
+allow the young man to pass, thinking he was going into the lounge for
+tea.
+
+"Tea is ..." he began, but abruptly ended the sentence on catching sight
+of the young man's face. For Robin, habitually so self-possessed, looked
+positively haggard. His face was set and there was a weary look in his
+eyes. The young man appeared so utterly different from his wonted self
+that Bude fairly stared at him.
+
+But Robin, without paying the least attention either to the butler or to
+the sound of voices in the lounge, strode across the outer hall and
+disappeared through the glass door of the corridor leading to the great
+drawing-room and the library.
+
+Bude stood an instant gazing after him in perplexity, then moved across
+the hall to the servants' quarters.
+
+In the meantime in the lounge the little doctor snapped the case of his
+watch and opined that he wanted his tea.
+
+"Where on earth has everybody got to? What's become of Lady Margaret? I
+haven't seen her since lunch...."
+
+That lady answered his question by appearing in person.
+
+Lady Margaret was tall and hard and glittering. Like so many
+Englishwomen of good family, she was so saturated with the traditions of
+her class that her manner was almost indistinguishable from that of a
+man. Well-mannered, broadminded, wholly cynical, and absolutely
+fearless, she went through life exactly as though she were following a
+path carefully taped out for her by a suitably instructed Providence.
+Somewhere beneath the mask of smiling indifference she presented so
+bravely to a difficult world, she had a heart, but so carefully did she
+hide it that Horace had only discovered it on a certain grey November
+morning when he had started out for the first time on active service.
+For ever afterwards a certain weighing-machine at Waterloo Station, by
+which he had had a startling vision of his mother standing with heaving
+bosom and tear-stained face, possessed in his mind the attributes of
+some secret and sacred shrine.
+
+But now she was cool and well-gowned and self-contained as ever.
+
+"What a perfectly dreadful day!" she exclaimed in her pleasant,
+well-bred voice. "Horace, you must positively go and see Henry
+What's-his-name in the Foreign Office and get me a passport for Cannes.
+The weather in England in the winter is incredibly exaggerated!"
+
+"At least," said the doctor, rubbing his back as he warmed himself at
+the fire, "we have fuel in England. Give me England, climate and all,
+but don't take away my fire. The sun doesn't shine on the Riviera at
+night, you know!"
+
+Lady Margaret busied herself at the tea-table with its fine Queen Anne
+silver and dainty yellow cups. It was the custom at Harkings to serve
+tea in the winter without other illumination than the light of the
+great log-fire that spat and leaped in the open hearth. Beyond the
+semi-circle of ruddy light the great lounge was all in darkness, and
+beyond that again was the absolute stillness of the English country on a
+winter's evening.
+
+And so with a gentle clatter of teacups and the accompaniment of
+pleasantly modulated voices they sat and chatted--Lady Margaret, who was
+always surprising in what she said, the doctor who was incredibly
+opinionated, and young Trevert, who like all of the younger generation
+was daringly flippant. He was airing his views on what he called "Boche
+music" when he broke off and cried:
+
+"Hullo, here's Mary! Mary, you owe me half a crown. Bude has come up to
+scratch and there are tea-cakes after ... but, I say, what on earth's
+the matter?"
+
+The girl had come into the room and was standing in the centre of the
+lounge in the ruddy glow of the fire. Her face was deathly pale and she
+was shuddering violently. She held her little cambric handkerchief
+crushed up into a ball to her lips. Her eyes were fixed, almost glazed,
+like one who walks in a trance.
+
+She stood like that for an instant surveying the group--Lady Margaret, a
+silver tea-pot in one hand, looking at her with uplifted brows. Horace,
+who in his amazement had taken a step forward, and the doctor at his
+side scrutinizing her beneath his shaggy eyebrows.
+
+"My dear Mary "--it was Lady Margaret's smooth and pleasant voice which
+broke the silence--"whatever is the matter? Have you seen a ghost!"
+
+The girl swayed a little and opened her lips as if to speak. A log,
+crashing from the fire into the grate, fell upon the silence of the
+darkening room. It seemed to break the spell.
+
+"Hartley!"
+
+The name came hoarsely from the girl. Everybody, except Lady Margaret,
+sprang to his feet It was the doctor who spoke first.
+
+"Miss Mary," he said, "you seem frightened, what ..."
+
+His voice was very soothing.
+
+Mary Trevert made a vague gesture towards the shadows about the
+staircase.
+
+"There ... in the library ... he's got the door locked ... there was a
+shot ..."
+
+Then she suddenly screamed aloud.
+
+In a stride both the doctor and her brother were by her side. But she
+motioned them away.
+
+"I'm frightened about Hartley," she said in a low voice, "please go at
+once and see what ... that shot ... and he doesn't answer!"
+
+"Come on, Doctor!"
+
+Horace Trevert was halfway to the big screen separating the lounge from
+the outer hall. As he passed the bell, he pressed it.
+
+"Send Bude to us, Mother, when he comes, please!" he called as he and
+the doctor hurried away.
+
+Lady Margaret had risen and stood, one arm about her daughter, on the
+Persian rug spread out before the cheerful fire. So the women stood in
+the firelight in Hartley Parrish's house, surrounded by all the
+treasures which his wealth had bought, and listened to the footsteps
+clattering away through the silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+A DISCOVERY
+
+Harkings was not a large house. Some three hundred years ago it had been
+a farm, but in the intervening years successive owners had so altered it
+by pulling down and building on, that, when it passed into the
+possession of Hartley Parrish, little else than the open fireplace in
+the lounge remained to tell of the original farm. It was a queer,
+rambling house of only two stories whose elongated shape was accentuated
+by the additional wing which Hartley Parrish had built on.
+
+For the decoration of his country-house, Parrish had placed himself
+unreservedly in the hands of the firm entrusted with the work. Their
+architect was given _carte blanche_ to produce a house of character out
+of the rather dingy, out-of-date country villa which Harkings was when
+Hartley Parrish, attracted by the view from the gardens, first
+discovered it.
+
+The architect had gone to his work with a zest. He had ripped up walls
+and ceilings and torn down irrational matchwood partitions, discovering
+some fine old oak wainscot and the blackened roof-beams of the original
+farmstead. In the upshot he transformed Harkings into a very fair
+semblance of a late Jacobean house, fitted with every modern convenience
+and extremely comfortable. Furnished throughout with genuine "period"
+furniture, with fine dark oak panelling and parquet floors, it was
+altogether picturesque. Neither within nor without, it is true, would a
+connoisseur have been able to give it a date.
+
+But that did not worry Hartley Parrish. He loved a bargain and he had
+bought the house cheap. It was situated in beautiful country and was
+within easy reach by car of his town-house in St. James's Square where
+he lived for the greater part of the week. Last but not least Harkings
+was the casket enshrining a treasure, the realization of a lifelong
+wish. This was the library, Parrish's own room, designed by himself and
+furnished to his own individual taste.
+
+It stood apart from the rest of the house at the end of the wing which
+Parrish had constructed. The wing consisted of a single ground floor and
+contained the drawing-room--which was scarcely ever used, as both
+Parrish and his guests preferred the more congenial surroundings of the
+lounge--and the library. A long corridor panelled in oak led off the
+hall to the new wing. On to this corridor both the drawing-room and the
+library gave. Halfway down the corridor a small passage ran off. It
+separated the drawing-room from the library and ended in a door leading
+into the gardens at the back of the house.
+
+It was to the new wing that Horace Trevert and Dr. Komain now hastened.
+They hurried across the hall, where the big lamp of dulled glass threw a
+soft yellow light, and entered the corridor through the heavy oak door
+which shut it off from the hall. The corridor was wrapt in silence.
+Halfway down, where the small passage ran to the garden door, the
+electric light was burning.
+
+Horace Trevert ran down the corridor ahead of the doctor and was the
+first to reach the library door. He knocked sharply, then turned the
+handle. The door was locked.
+
+"Hartley!" he cried and rapped again. "Ha-a-artley! Open the door! It's
+me, Horace!"
+
+Again he knocked and rattled the handle. Not a sound came from the
+locked room. There was an instant's silence. Horace and the doctor
+exchanged an interrogatory look.
+
+From behind the closed door came the steady ticking of a clock. The
+silence was so absolute that both men heard it.
+
+Then the door at the end of the corridor was flung open and Bude
+appeared. He was running at a quick ambling trot, his heavy tread
+shaking the passage,
+
+"Oh? sir," he cried, "whatever is it? What has happened?"
+
+Horace spoke quickly, incisively.
+
+"Something's happened to Mr. Parrish, Bude," he said. "The door's locked
+and he doesn't answer. We'll have to break the door down."
+
+Bude shook his head.
+
+"It's solid oak, sir," he began.
+
+Then he raised his hand.
+
+"Pardon me, gentlemen," he said, as though an idea had struck him. "If
+we were to go out by the garden door here, we might get in through the
+window. We could break the glass if needs be!"
+
+"That's it!" exclaimed Horace. "Come on, Doctor!"
+
+He dashed down the corridor towards the little passage. The doctor laid
+a hand on Bude's arm.
+
+"One of us had better stay here," he said with a meaning glance at the
+closed door.
+
+The butler raised an affrighted face to his.
+
+"Go with Sir Horace, Bude," said the doctor. "I'll stay!"
+
+Outside in the gardens of Harkings it was a raw, damp evening,
+pitch-black now, with little gusts of wind which shook the naked bushes
+of the rosery. The garden door led by a couple of shallow steps on to a
+gravel path which ran all along the back of the house. The path extended
+right up to the wall of the house. On the other side it flanked the
+rosery.
+
+The glass door was banging to and fro in the night wind as Bude, his
+coat-collar turned up, hurried out into the darkness. The library, which
+formed the corner of the new wing, had two windows, the one immediately
+above the gravel path looking out over the rosery, the other round the
+corner of the house giving on the same path, beyond which ran a high
+hedge of clipped box surrounding the so-called Pleasure Ground, a plot
+of smooth grass with a sundial in the centre.
+
+A glow of light came from the library window, and in its radiance Bude
+saw silhouetted the tall, well-knit figure of young Trevert. As the
+butler came up, the boy raised something in his hand and there was a
+crash of broken glass.
+
+The curtains were drawn, but with the breaking of the window they began
+to flap about. With the iron grating he had picked up from the drain
+below the window young Trevert smashed the rest of the glass away, then
+thrust an arm through the empty window-frame, fumbling for the
+window-catch.
+
+"The catch is not fastened," he whispered, and with a resolute thrust he
+pushed the window up. The curtains leapt up wildly, revealing a glimpse
+of the pleasant, book-lined room. Both men from the darkness without saw
+Parrish's desk littered with his papers and his habitual chair beyond
+it, pushed back empty.
+
+Trevert turned an instant, a hand on the window-sill.
+
+"Bude," he said, "there's no one there!"
+
+"Best look and see, sir," replied the butler, his coat-tails flapping in
+the wind.
+
+Trevert hoisted himself easily on to the window-sill, knelt there for an
+instant, then thrust his legs over the sill and dropped into the room.
+As he did so he stumbled, cried aloud.
+
+Then the heavy grey curtains were flung back and the butler saw the
+boy's face, rather white, at the open window.
+
+"My God," he said slowly, "he's dead!"
+
+A moment later Dr. Romain, waiting in the corridor, heard the key turn
+in the lock of the library door. The door was flung open. Horace Trevert
+stood there, silhouetted in a dull glow of light from the room. He was
+pointing to the open window, beneath which Hartley Parrish lay on his
+back motionless.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+BETWEEN THE DESK AND THE WINDOW
+
+Hartley Parrish's library was a splendid room, square in shape, lofty
+and well proportioned. It was lined with books arranged in shelves of
+dark brown oak running round the four walls, but sunk level with them
+and reaching up to a broad band of perfectly plain white plasterwork.
+
+It was a cheerful, comfortable, eminently modern room, half library,
+half office. The oak was solid, but uncompromisingly new. The great
+leather armchairs were designed on modern lines--for comfort rather
+than for appearance. There were no pictures; but vases of chrysanthemums
+stood here and there about the room. A dictaphone in a case was in a
+corner, but beside it was a little table on which were set out some rare
+bits of old Chelsea. There was also a gramophone, but it was enclosed in
+a superb case of genuine old black-and-gold lacquer. The very books in
+their shelves carried on this contrast of business with recreation. For
+while one set of shelves contained row upon row of technical works,
+company reports, and all manner of business reference books bound in
+leather, on another were to be found the vellum-bound volumes of the
+Kelmscott Press.
+
+A sober note of grey or mole colour was the colour scheme of the room.
+The heavy pile carpet which stretched right up to the walls was of this
+quiet neutral shade: so were the easy-chairs, and the colour of the
+heavy curtains, which hung in front of the two high windows, was in
+harmony with the restful decorative scheme of the room.
+
+The massive oaken door stood opposite the window overlooking the
+rosery--the window through which Horace Trevert had entered. Parrish's
+desk was in front of this window, between it and the door in
+consequence. By the other window, which, as has been stated, looked out
+on the clipped hedge surrounding the Pleasure Ground, was the little
+table with the Chelsea china, the dictaphone, and one of the
+easy-chairs. The centre of the room was clear so that nothing lay
+between the door and the carved mahogany chair at the desk. Here, as
+they all knew, Parrish was accustomed to sit when working, his back to
+the door, his face to the window overlooking the rosery.
+
+The desk stood about ten feet from the window. On it was a large brass
+lamp which cast a brilliant circle of light upon the broad flat top of
+the desk with its orderly array of letter-trays, its handsome
+silver-edged blotter and silver and tortoise-shell writing
+appurtenances. By the light of this lamp Dr. Romain, looking from the
+doorway, saw that Hartley Parrish's chair was vacant, pushed back a
+little way from the desk. The rest of the room was wrapt in unrevealing
+half-light.
+
+"He's there by the window!"
+
+Horace was whispering to the doctor. Romain strode over to the desk and
+picked up the lamp. As he did so, his eyes fell upon the pale face of
+Hartley Parrish. He lay on his back in the space between the desk and
+the window. His head was flung back, his eyes, bluish-grey,--the narrow,
+rather expressionless eyes of the successful business man,--were wide
+open and fixed in a sightless stare, his rather full mouth, with its
+clean-shaven lips, was rigid and stern. With the broad forehead, the
+prominent brows, the bold, aggressive nose, and the square bony jaw, it
+was a fighter's face, a fine face save for the evil promise of that
+sensuous mouth. So thought the doctor with the swift psychological
+process of his trade.
+
+From the face his gaze travelled to the body. And then Romain could not
+repress an involuntary start, albeit he saw what he had half expected to
+see. The fleshy right hand of Hartley Parrish grasped convulsively an
+automatic pistol. His clutching index finger was crooked about the
+trigger and the barrel was pressed into the yielding pile of the carpet.
+His other hand with clawing fingers was flung out away from the body on
+the other side. One leg was stretched out to its fullest extent and the
+foot just touched the hem of the grey window curtains. The other leg was
+slightly drawn up.
+
+The doctor raised the lamp from the desk and, dropping on one knee,
+placed it on the ground beside the body. With gentle fingers he
+manipulated the eyes, opened the blue serge coat and waistcoat which
+Parrish was wearing. As he unbuttoned the waistcoat, he laid bare a dark
+red stain on the breast of the fine silk shirt. He opened shirt and
+under-vest, bent an ear to the still form, and then, with a little
+helpless gesture, rose to his feet.
+
+"Dead?" queried Trevert.
+
+Romain nodded shortly.
+
+"Shot through the heart!" he said.
+
+"He looked so ... so limp," the boy said, shrinking back a little, "I
+thought he was dead. But I never thought old Hartley would have done a
+thing like that ..."
+
+The doctor pursed up his lips as if to speak. But he remained silent for
+a moment. Then he said:
+
+"Horace, the police must be informed. We can do that on the telephone.
+This room must be left just as it is until they come. I can do nothing
+more for poor Hartley. And we shall have to tell the others. I'd better
+do that myself. I wonder where Greve is? I haven't seen him all the
+afternoon. As a barrister he should be able to advise us about--er, the
+technicalities: the police and all that ..."
+
+Rapid footsteps reverberated down the corridor. Robin Greve appeared at
+the door. The fat and frightened face of Bude appeared over his
+shoulder.
+
+"Good God, Doctor!" he cried, "what's this Bude tells me?"
+
+The doctor cleared his throat.
+
+"Our poor friend is dead, Greve," he said.
+
+"But how? How?"
+
+Greve stood opposite the doctor in the centre of the library. He had
+switched on the light at the door as he had come in, and the room was
+flooded with soft light thrown by concealed lamps set around the cornice
+of the ceiling.
+
+"Look!" responded the doctor by way of answer and stepped aside to let
+the young man come up to the desk. "He has a pistol in his hand!"
+
+Robin Greve took a step forward and stopped dead. He gazed for an
+instant without speaking on the dead face of his host and rival.
+
+"Suicide!"
+
+It was an affirmation rather than a question, and the little doctor took
+it up. He was not a young man and the shock and the excitement were
+beginning to tell on his nerves.
+
+"I am not a police surgeon," he said with some asperity; "in fact, I may
+say I have not seen a dead body since my hospital days. I ... I ... know
+nothing about these things. This is a matter for the police. They must
+be summoned at once. Where's Bude?"
+
+Robin Greve turned quickly.
+
+"Get on to the police station at Stevenish at once, Bude," he ordered.
+"Do you know the Inspector?"
+
+"Yessir," the butler answered in a hollow voice. His hands were
+trembling violently, and he seemed to control himself with difficulty.
+"Mr. Humphries, sir!"
+
+"Well, ring him up and tell him that Mr. Parrish ... Hullo, what do all
+these people want?"
+
+There was a commotion at the door. Frightened faces were framed in the
+doorway. Outside there was the sound of a woman whimpering. A tall, dark
+young man in a tail coat came in quickly. He stopped short when he saw
+the solemn faces of the group at the desk. It was Parrish's man, Jay.
+He stepped forward to the desk and in a frightened sort of way peered at
+the body as it lay on the floor.
+
+"Oh, sir," he said breathlessly, addressing Greve, "what ever has
+happened to Mr. Parrish? It can't be true ..."
+
+Greve put his hand on the young man's shoulder.
+
+"I'm sorry to say it is true, Jay," he answered.
+
+"He was very good to us all," the valet replied in a broken voice. He
+remained by the desk staring at the body in a dazed fashion.
+
+"Who is that crying outside?" Greve demanded. "This is no place for
+women ..."
+
+"It's Mrs. Heever, the housekeeper," Bude answered.
+
+"Well, she must go back to her room. Send all those servants away. Jay,
+will you see to it? And take care that Lady Margaret and Miss Trevert
+don't come in here, either."
+
+"Sir Horace is with them, sir, in the lounge," said Jay and went out.
+
+"I'll go to them. I think I'd better," exclaimed the doctor. "I shall be
+in the lounge when they want me. A dreadful affair! Dreadful!"
+
+The little doctor bustled out, leaving Greve and the butler alone in the
+room with the mortal remains of Hartley Parrish lying where he had
+fallen on the soft grey carpet.
+
+"Now, Bude," said Greve incisively, "get on to the police at once. You'd
+better telephone from the servant's hall. I'll have a look round here in
+the meantime!"
+
+Bude stood for an instant irresolute. He glanced shrewdly at the young
+man.
+
+"Go on," said Robin quickly; "what are you waiting for, man? There's no
+time to lose."
+
+Slowly the butler turned and tiptoed away, his ungainly body swaying
+about as he stole across the heavy pile carpet. He went out of the room,
+closing the door softly behind him. He left Greve sunk in a reverie at
+the desk, gazing with unseeing eyes upon the dead face of the master of
+Harkings.
+
+That sprawling corpse, the startled realization of death stamped for
+ever in the wide, staring eyes, was indeed a subject for meditation.
+There, in the midst of all the evidences of Hartley Parrish's meteoric
+rise to affluence and power, Greve pondered for an instant on the
+strange pranks which Fate plays us poor mortals.
+
+Parrish had risen, as Greve and all the world knew, from the bottom rung
+of the ladder. He had had a bitter fight for existence, had made his
+money, as Greve had heard, with a blind and ruthless determination
+which spoke of the stern struggle of other days. And Robin, who, too,
+had had his own way to make in the world, knew how the memory of earlier
+struggles went to sweeten the flavour of ultimate success.
+
+Yet here was Hartley Parrish, with his vast financial undertakings, his
+soaring political ambitions, his social aims which, Robin realized
+bitterly, had more than a little to do with his project for marrying
+Mary Trevert, stricken down suddenly, without warning, in the very
+heyday of success.
+
+"Why should he have done it?" he whispered to himself, "why, my God,
+why?"
+
+But the mask-like face at his feet, as he bent to scan it once more,
+gave no answer to the riddle. Determination, ambition, was portrayed on
+the keen, eager face even in death.
+
+With a little hopeless gesture the young barrister glanced round the
+room. His eye fell upon the desk. He saw a neat array of letter-trays,
+costly silver and tortoise-shell writing appointments, a couple of heavy
+gold fountain pens, and an orderly collection of pencils. Lying flat on
+the great silver-edged blotter was a long brown envelope which had been
+opened. Propped up against the large crystal ink-well was a letter
+addressed simply "Miss Mary Trevert" in Hartley Parrish's big,
+vigorous, and sprawling handwriting.
+
+The letter to Mary Trevert, Robin did not touch. But he picked up the
+long brown envelope. On the back it bore a printed seal. The envelope
+contained a document and a letter. At the sight of it the young man
+started. It was Hartley Parrish's will. The letter was merely a covering
+note from Mr. Bardy, of the firm of Jerringham, Bardy and Company, a
+well-known firm of solicitors, dated the previous evening. Robin
+replaced letter and document in their envelope without reading them.
+
+"So that's it!" he murmured to himself. "Suicide? But why?"
+
+All the letter-trays save one were empty. In this was a little heap of
+papers and letters. Robin glanced through them. There were two or three
+prospectuses, a notice of a golf match, a couple of notes from West End
+tradesmen enclosing receipts and an acknowledgement from the bank. There
+was only one personal letter--a business communication from a Rotterdam
+firm. Robin glanced at the letter. It was typewritten on paper of a dark
+slatey-blue shade. It was headed, "ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & Co., GENERAL
+IMPORTERS, ROTTERDAM," and dealt with steel shipments.
+
+Robin dropped the letter back into the tray and turned to survey the
+room. It was in perfect order. Except for the still form lying on the
+floor and the broken pane of glass in the window, there was nothing to
+tell of the tragedy which had been enacted there that afternoon. There
+were no papers to hint at a crisis save the prosaic-looking envelope
+containing the will, and Parrish's note for Mary. The waste-paper
+basket, a large and business-like affair in white wicker, had been
+cleared.
+
+Robin walked across to the fireplace. The flames leapt eagerly about a
+great oak log which hissed fitfully on top of the glowing coals
+contained in the big iron fire-basket. The grate was bare and tidy. As
+the young man looked at the fire, a little whirl of blue smoke whisked
+out of the wide fireplace and eddied into the room. Robin sniffed. The
+room smelt smoky. Now he remembered he had noticed it as he came in.
+
+He stood an instant gazing thoughtfully at the blazing and leaping fire.
+He threw a quick glance at the window where the curtains tossed fitfully
+in the breeze coming through the broken pane. Suddenly he stepped
+quickly across the room and, lifting the reading-lamp from the table,
+bore it over to the window which he scrutinized narrowly by its light.
+Then he dropped on one knee beside the dead body, placing the lamp on
+the floor beside him.
+
+He lifted the dead man's left hand and narrowly examined the nails.
+Without touching the right hand which clasped the revolver, he studied
+its nails too. He rose and took the gold-mounted reading-glass from the
+desk and scrutinized the nails of both hands through the glass.
+
+Then he rose to his feet again and, having replaced lamp and
+reading-glass on the desk, stood there thoughtfully, his brown hands
+clasped before him. His eyes wandered from the desk to the window and
+from the window to the corpse. Then he noticed on the carpet between the
+dead body and the desk a little ball of slatey-blue paper. He bent down
+and picked it up. He had begun to unroll it when the library door was
+flung open. Robin thrust the scrap of paper in his pocket and turned to
+face the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+IN WHICH BUDE LOOKS AT ROBIN GREVE
+
+The library door opened. A large, square-built, florid man in the
+braided uniform of a police inspector stood on the threshold of the
+room. Beside him was Bude who, with an air of dignity and respectful
+mourning suitably blended, waved him into the room.
+
+"The--ahem!--body is in here, Mr. Humphries, sir!"
+
+Inspector Humphries stepped quickly into the room. A little countryfied
+in appearance and accent, he had the careful politeness, the measured
+restraint, and the shrewd eye of the typical police officer. In thirty
+years' service he had risen from village constable to be Inspector of
+county police. Slow to anger, rather stolid, and with an excellent
+heart, he had a vein of shrewd common sense not uncommonly found in that
+fast disappearing species, the English peasant.
+
+He nodded shortly to Greve, and with a tread that shook the room strode
+across to where Hartley Parrish was lying dead. In the meantime a
+harassed-looking man with a short grey beard, wearing a shabby frock
+coat, had slipped into the room behind the Inspector. He approached
+Greve.
+
+"Dr. Romain?" he queried, peering through his gold spectacles, "the
+butler said ..."
+
+"No, my name is Greve," answered Robin. "I am staying in the house. This
+is Dr. Romain."
+
+He motioned to the door. Dr. Romain came bustling into the room.
+
+"Glad to see you here so promptly, Inspector," he said. "A shocking
+business, very. Is this the doctor? I am Dr. Romain ..."
+
+Dr. Redstone bowed with alacrity.
+
+"A great privilege, sir," he said staidly. "I have followed your work...."
+
+But the other did not let him finish.
+
+"Shot through the heart ... instantaneous death ... severe haemorrhage ...
+the pistol is there ... in his hand. A man with everything he wanted
+in the world ... I can't understand it. 'Pon my soul, I can't!"
+
+The Inspector, who had been kneeling by the corpse, motioned with his
+head to the village doctor. Dr. Redstone went to him and began a cursory
+examination of the body. The Inspector rose.
+
+"I understand from the butler, gentlemen," he said, "that it was Miss
+Trevert, a lady staying in the house, who heard the shot fired. I should
+like to see her, please. And you, sir, are you a relation of ..."
+
+Greve, thus addressed, hastily replied.
+
+"Only a friend, Inspector. I am staying in the house. I am a barrister.
+Perhaps I may be able to assist you ..."
+
+Humphries shot a slow, shrewd glance at him from beneath his shaggy
+blond eyebrows.
+
+"Thank you, sir, much obliged, I'm sure. Now"--he thrust a hand into his
+tunic and produced a large leather-bound notebook--"do you know anything
+as would throw a light on this business?"
+
+Greve shook his head.
+
+"He seemed perfectly cheerful at lunch. He left the dining-room directly
+after he had taken his coffee."
+
+"Where did he go?"
+
+"He came here to work. He told us at lunch that he was going to shut
+himself up in the library for the whole afternoon as he had a lot of
+work to get through."
+
+The Inspector made a note or two in his book. Then he paused
+thoughtfully tapping the end of his pencil against his teeth.
+
+"It was Miss Trevert, you say, who found the body?"
+
+"No," Greve replied. "Her brother, Sir Horace Trevert. It was Miss
+Trevert who heard the shot fired."
+
+"The door was locked, I think?"
+
+"On the inside. But here is Sir Horace Trevert. He will tell you how he
+got through the window and discovered the body."
+
+Horace Trevert gave a brief account of his entry into the library. Again
+the Inspector scribbled in his notebook.
+
+"One or two more questions, gentlemen, please," he said, "and then I
+should wish to see Miss Trevert. Firstly, who saw Mr. Hartley Parrish
+last: and at what time?"
+
+Horace Trevert looked at Greve.
+
+"It would be when he left us after lunch, wouldn't it?" he said.
+
+"Certainly, certainly," Dr. Romain broke in. "He left us all together in
+the dining-room, you, Horace and Robin and Lady Margaret and Mary ...
+Miss Trevert and her mother, you know," he added by way of explanation
+to the Inspector.
+
+"And he went straight to the library?"
+
+"Straight away, Mr. Humphries, sir," broke in Bude. "Mr. Parrish crossed
+me in the hall and gave me particular instructions that he was not to be
+disturbed."
+
+"That was at what time?"
+
+"About two-thirty, sir."
+
+"Then you were the last person to see him before ..."
+
+"Why, no ... that is, unless ..."
+
+The butler hesitated, casting a quick glance round his audience.
+
+"What do you mean?" rapped out the Inspector, looking up from his
+notebook. "Did anybody else see Mr. Parrish in spite of his orders?"
+
+Bude was silent. He was looking at Greve.
+
+"Come on," said Humphries sternly. "You heard my question? What makes
+you think anybody else had access to Mr. Parrish before the shot was
+heard?"
+
+Bude made a little resigned gesture of the hands.
+
+"Well, sir, I thought ... I made sure that Mr. Greve ..."
+
+There was a moment's tense silence.
+
+"Well?" snapped Humphries.
+
+"I was going to say I made certain that Mr. Greve was going to Mr.
+Parrish in the library to tell him tea was ready. Mr. Greve passed me in
+the hall and went down the library corridor just after I had served the
+tea."
+
+All eyes turned to Robin.
+
+"It's perfectly true," he said. "I went out into the gardens for a
+mouthful of fresh air just before tea. I left the house by the side door
+off the corridor here. I didn't go to the library, though. It is an
+understood thing in this house that no one ever disturbs Mr. Parrish
+when he ..."
+
+He broke off sharply.
+
+"My God, Mary," he cried, "you mustn't come in here!"
+
+All turned round at his loud exclamation. Mary Trevert stood in the
+doorway. Dr. Romain darted forward.
+
+"My dear," he said soothingly, "you mustn't be here ..."
+
+Passively she let him lead her into the corridor. The Inspector
+continued his examination.
+
+"At what time did you come along this corridor, sir?" he asked Robin.
+
+"It was not long after the tea gong went," answered Robin, "about ten
+minutes past five, I should say ..."
+
+"And you heard nothing?"
+
+Robin shook his head.
+
+"Absolutely nothing," he replied. "The corridor was perfectly quiet. I
+stepped out into the grounds, went for a turn round the house, but it
+was raining, so I came in almost at once."
+
+"At what time was that?"
+
+"When I came in ... oh, about two or three minutes later, say about a
+quarter past five."
+
+Humphries turned to Horace Trevert.
+
+"What time was it when Miss Trevert heard the shot?"
+
+Horace puckered up his brow.
+
+"Well," he said, "I don't quite know. We were having tea. It wasn't much
+after five--I should say about a quarter past."
+
+"Then the shot that Miss Trevert heard would have been fired just about
+the time that you, sir," he turned to Robin, "were coming in from your
+stroll."
+
+"Somewhere about that time, I should say!" Robin answered rather
+thoughtfully.
+
+"Did you hear it?" queried the Inspector.
+
+"No," said Robin.
+
+"But surely you must have been at or near the side door at the time as
+you were coming in ..."
+
+"I came in by the front door," said Robin, "on the other side of the
+house ..."
+
+Very carefully the Inspector closed his notebook, thrust the pencil back
+in its place along the back, fastened the elastic about the book, and
+turned to Horace Trevert.
+
+"And now, sir, if I might speak to Miss Trevert alone for a minute ..."
+
+"I say, though," expostulated Horace, "my sister's awfully upset, you
+know. Is it absolutely necessary?"
+
+"Aye, sir, it is!" said the Inspector. "But there's no need for me to
+see her in here. Perhaps in some other room ..."
+
+"The drawing-room is next to this," the butler put in; "they'd be nice
+and quiet in there, Sir Horace."
+
+The Inspector acquiesced. Dr. Redstone drew him aside for a whispered
+colloquy.
+
+The Inspector came back to Robin and Horace.
+
+"The doctor would like to have the body taken upstairs to Mr. Parrish's
+room," he said. "He wishes to make a more detailed examination if Dr.
+Romain would help him. If one of you gentlemen could give orders about
+this ... I have two officers outside who would lend a hand. And this
+room must then be shut and locked. Sergeant Harris!" he called.
+
+"Sir!"
+
+A stout sergeant appeared at the library door.
+
+"As soon as the body has been removed, you will lock the room and bring
+the key to me. And you will return here and see that no one attempts to
+get into the room. Understand?"
+
+"Yessir!"
+
+"Inspector!"
+
+Robin Greve called Inspector Humphries as the latter was preparing to
+follow Bude to the drawing-room.
+
+"Mr. Parrish seems to have written a note for Miss Trevert," he said,
+pointing at the desk. "And in that envelope you will find Mr. Parrish's
+will. I discovered it there on the desk just before you arrived!"
+
+Again the Inspector shot one of his swift glances at the young man. He
+went over to the desk, shook the document and letter from their
+envelope, glanced at them, and replaced them.
+
+"I don't rightly know that this concerns me, gentlemen," he said slowly.
+"I think I'll just take charge of it. And I'll give Miss Trevert her
+letter."
+
+Taking the two envelopes, he tramped heavily out of the room.
+
+Then in a little while Bude and Jay and two bucolic-looking policemen
+came to the library to move the body of the master of Harkings. Robin
+stood by and watched the little procession pass slowly with silent feet
+across the soft pile carpet and out into the corridor. But his thoughts
+were not with Parrish. He was haunted by the look which Mary Trevert had
+given him as she had stood for an instant at the library door, a look of
+fear, of suspicion. And it made his heart ache.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+THE LETTER
+
+The great drawing-room of Harkings was ablaze with light. The cluster of
+lights in the heavy crystal chandelier and the green-shaded electric
+lamps in their gilt sconces on the plain white-panelled walls coldly lit
+up the formal, little-used room with its gilt furniture, painted piano,
+and huge marble fireplace.
+
+This glittering Louis Seize environment seemed altogether too much for
+the homely Inspector. Whilst waiting for Mary Trevert to come to him, he
+tried several attitudes in turn. The empty hearth frightened him away
+from the mantelpiece, the fragile appearance of a gilt settee decided
+him against risking his sixteen stone weight on its silken cushions, and
+the vastness of the room overawed him when he took up his position in
+the centre of the Aubusson carpet. Finally he selected an ornate chair,
+rather more solid-looking than the rest, which he drew up to a small
+table on the far side of the room. There he sat down, his large red
+hands spread out upon his knees in an attitude of singular
+embarrassment.
+
+But Mary Trevert set him quickly at his ease when presently she came to
+him. She was pale, but quite self-possessed. Indeed, the effort she had
+made to regain her self-control was so marked that it would have
+scarcely escaped the attention of the Inspector, even if he had not had
+a brief vision of her as she had stood for that instant at the library
+door, pale, distraught, and trembling. He was astonished to find her
+cool, collected, almost business-like in the way she sat down, motioned
+him to his seat, and expressed her readiness to tell him all she knew.
+
+The phrases he had been laboriously preparing--"This has been a bad
+shock for you, ma'am"; "You will forgive me, I'm sure, ma'am, for
+calling upon you at a moment such as this"--died away on his lips as
+Mary Trevert said:
+
+"Ask me any questions you wish, Inspector. I will tell you everything I
+can."
+
+"That's very good of you, ma'am, I'm sure," answered the Inspector,
+unstrapping his notebook, "and I'll try and not detain you long. Now,
+then, tell me what you know of this sad affair ..."
+
+Mary Trevert plucked an instant nervously at her little cambric
+handerchief in her lap. Then she said:
+
+"I went to the library from the billiard-room ..."
+
+"A moment," interposed the Inspector. "What time was that?"
+
+"A little after five. The tea gong had gone some time. I was going to
+the library to tell Mr. Parrish that tea was ready ..."
+
+Mr. Humphries made a note. He nodded to show he was listening.
+
+"I crossed the hall and went down the library corridor. I knocked on the
+library door. There was no reply. Then I heard a shot and a sort of
+thud."
+
+Despite her effort to remain calm, the girl's voice shook a little. She
+made a little helpless gesture of her hands. A diamond ring she was
+wearing on her finger caught the light and blazed for an instant.
+
+"Then I got frightened. I ran back along the corridor to the lounge
+where the others were and told them."
+
+"When you knocked at the door, you say there was no reply. I suppose,
+now, you tried the handle first."
+
+"Oh, yes ..."
+
+"Then Mr. Parrish would have heard the two sounds? The turning of the
+handle and then the knocking on the door? That's so, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so ..."
+
+"Yet you say there was no reply?"
+
+"No. None at all."
+
+The Inspector jotted a word or two in his notebook as it lay open flat
+upon the table.
+
+"The shot, then, was fired immediately after you had knocked? Not while
+you were knocking?"
+
+"No. I knocked and waited, expecting Mr. Parrish to answer. Instead of
+him answering, there came this shot ..."
+
+"I see. And after the shot was fired there was a crash?"
+
+"A sort of thud--like something heavy falling down."
+
+"And you heard no groan or cry?"
+
+The girl knit her brows for a moment.
+
+"I ... I ... was frightened by the shot. I ... I ... don't seem able to
+remember what happened afterwards. Let me think ... let me think ..."
+
+"There, there," said the Inspector paternally, "don't upset yourself
+like this. Just try and think what happened after you heard the shot
+fired ..."
+
+Mary Trevert shuddered, one slim white hand pressed against her cheek.
+
+"I do remember now," she said, "there _was_ a cry. It was more like a
+sharp exclamation ..."
+
+"And then you heard this crash?"
+
+"Yes ..."
+
+The girl had somewhat regained her self-possession. She dabbed her eyes
+with her handkerchief quickly as though ashamed of her weakness.
+
+"Now," said Humphries, clearing his throat, as though to indicate that
+the conversation had changed, "you and Lady Margaret Trevert knew Mr.
+Parrish pretty well, I believe, Miss Trevert. Have you any idea why he
+should have done this thing?"
+
+Mary Trevert shook her dark head rather wearily.
+
+"It is inconceivable to me ... to all of us," she answered.
+
+"Do you happen to know whether Mr. Parrish had any business worries?"
+
+"He always had a great deal of business on hand and he has had a great
+deal to do lately over some big deal."
+
+"What was it, do you know?"
+
+"He was raising fresh capital for Hornaway's--that is the big
+engineering firm he controls ..."
+
+"Do you know if he was pleased with the way things were shaping?"
+
+"Oh, yes. He told me last night that everything would be finished this
+week. He seemed quite satisfied."
+
+The Inspector paused to make a note.
+
+Then he thrust a hand into the side-pocket of his tunic and produced
+Hartley Parrish's letter.
+
+"This," he said, eyeing the girl as he handed her the letter, "may throw
+some light on the affair!"
+
+Open-eyed, a little surprised, she took the plain white envelope from
+his hand and gazed an instant without speaking, on the bold sprawling
+address--
+
+  _"Miss Mary Trevert."_
+
+"Open it, please," said the Inspector gently.
+
+The girl tore open the envelope. Humphries saw her eyes fill, watched
+the emotion grip her and shake her in her self-control so that she could
+not speak when, her reading done, she gave him back the letter.
+
+Without asking her permission, he took the sheet of fine, expensive
+paper with its neat engraved heading and postal directions, and read
+Hartley Parrish's last message.
+
+  My dear [it ran], I signed my will at Bardy's office
+  yesterday, and he sent it back to me to-day. Just
+  this line to let you know you are properly provided
+  for should anything happen to me. I wanted to fix
+  things so that you and Lady Margaret would not
+  have to worry any more. I just had to _write_.
+  I guess you understand why.
+
+H.
+
+There was a long and impressive silence while the Inspector
+deliberately read the note. Then he looked interrogatively at the girl.
+
+"We were engaged, Inspector," she said. "We were to have been married
+very soon."
+
+A deep flush crept slowly over Mr. Humphries's florid face and spread
+into the roots of his tawny fair hair.
+
+"But what does he mean by 'having to write'?" he asked.
+
+The girl replied hastily, her eyes on the ground.
+
+"Mr. Parrish was under the impression that ... that ... without his
+money I should not have cared for him. That is what he means ..."
+
+"You knew he had provided for you in his will?"
+
+"He told me several times that he intended to leave me everything. You
+see, he has no relatives!"
+
+"I see!" said the Inspector in a reflective voice.
+
+"Had he any enemies, do you know? Anybody who would drive him to a thing
+like this?"
+
+The girl shook her head vehemently.
+
+"No!"
+
+The monosyllable came out emphatically. Again the Inspector darted one
+of his quick, shrewd glances at the girl. She met his scrutiny with her
+habitual serene and candid gaze. The Inspector dropped his eyes and
+scribbled in his book.
+
+"Was his health good?"
+
+"He smoked far too much," the girl said, "and it made him rather nervy.
+But otherwise he never had a day's illness in his life."
+
+Humphries ran his eye over the notes he had made.
+
+"There is just one more question I should like to ask you, Miss
+Trevert," he said, "rather a personal question."
+
+Mary Trevert's hands twisted the cambric handkerchief into a little ball
+and slowly unwound it again. But her face remained quite calm.
+
+"About your engagement to Mr. Parrish ... when did it take place?"
+
+"Some days ago. It has not yet been announced."
+
+The Inspector coughed.
+
+"I was only wondering whether, perhaps, Mr. Parrish was not quite ...
+whether he was, maybe, a little disturbed in his mind about the
+engagement ..."
+
+The girl hesitated. Then she said firmly:
+
+"Mr. Parrish was perfectly happy about it. He was looking forward to our
+being married in the spring."
+
+Mr. Humphries shut his notebook with a snap and rose to his feet.
+
+"Thank you very much, ma'am," he said with a little formal bow. "If you
+will excuse me now. I have the doctor to see again and there's the
+Coroner to be warned ..."
+
+He bowed again and tramped towards the door with a tread that made the
+chandelier tinkle melodiously.
+
+The door closed behind him and his heavy footsteps died away along the
+corridor. Mary Trevert had risen to her feet calm and impassive. But
+when he had gone, her bosom began to heave and a spasm of pain shot
+across her face. Again the tears welled up in her eyes, brimmed over and
+stole down her cheeks.
+
+"If I only _knew!_" she sobbed, "if I only _knew!_"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+VOICES IN THE LIBRARY
+
+The swift tragedy of the winter afternoon had convulsed the
+well-organized repose of Hartley Parrish's household. Nowhere had his
+master grasp of detail been seen to better advantage than in the
+management of his country home. Overwhelmed with work though he
+constantly was, accustomed to carry his business and often part of his
+business staff to Harkings with him for the week-ends, there was never
+the least confusion about the house. The methodical calm of Harkings was
+that of a convent.
+
+Hartley Parrish was wont to say that he paid his butler and housekeeper
+well to save himself from worry. It was rather to ensure his orders
+being punctiliously and promptly carried out. His was the mind behind
+the method which ensured that meals were punctually served and trains at
+Stevenish Station never missed.
+
+But it was into a house in turmoil that Mary Trevert stepped when she
+left the drawing-room and passed along the corridor to go to her room.
+Doors slammed and there was the heavy thud of footsteps on the floor
+above. The glass door leading into the gardens was open, as Mary passed
+it, swinging in the gusts of cold rain. In the gardens without there was
+a confused murmur of voices and the flash of lanterns.
+
+In the hall a knot of servants were gossiping in frightened whispers
+with a couple of large, rather bovine country constables who,
+bareheaded, without their helmets, which they held under their arms,
+looked curiously undressed.
+
+The whispers died away as Mary crossed the hall. All eyes followed her
+with interest as she went. It was as though an echo of her talk with the
+Inspector had by some occult means already spread through the little
+household. Through the half-open green baize door leading to the
+servants' quarters some unseen person was bawling down the telephone in
+a heated controversy with the exchange about a long-distance call to
+London. And but an hour since, the girl reflected sadly, as she mounted
+the oaken staircase, the house had been wrapt in its wonted evening
+silence in response to that firm and dominating personality who had
+passed out in the gloom of the winter twilight.
+
+When, about six months before, Mary and her mother had begun to be
+regular visitors at Harkings, Hartley Parrish had insisted on giving
+Mary a boudoir to herself. This, in response to a chance remark of
+Mary's in admiration of a Chinese room she had seen at a friend's house,
+Parrish had had decorated in the Chinese style with black walls and
+black-and-gold lacquer furniture. The room had been transformed from a
+rather prosaic morning-room with old oak and chintz in the space of
+three days as a surprise for Mary. She remembered now how Parrish had
+left her to make the discovery of the change for herself. She loved
+colour and line, and the contrast between this quaint and delightful
+room with her rather shabby bedroom in her mother's small house in
+Brompton had made this surprise one of the most delightful she had ever
+experienced.
+
+She rang the bell and sat down listlessly in a charmingly lacquered
+Louis Seize armchair in front of the log-fire blazing brightly in the
+fireplace. She was conscious that a great disaster had overtaken her,
+but only dimly conscious. For more poignantly than this dull sense of
+tragedy she was aware of a great aching at her heart, and her thoughts,
+after hovering over the events of the afternoon, settled down upon her
+talk that afternoon ... already how far off it seemed ... with Robin
+Greve in the library,
+
+Robin had always been her hero. She could see him now in the glow of the
+fire as he had been when in the holidays he had come and snatched her
+away from a home already drab and difficult for a matin�e and an orgy of
+cream cakes at Gunter's afterwards. He was then a long, slim, handsome
+boy of irrepressible spirits and impulsive generosity which usually left
+him, after the first few days of his holidays, in a state of lamentable
+impecuniosity. All their lives, it seemed to her, they had been friends,
+but with no stronger feeling between them until Robin, having joined the
+Army on the outbreak of war, had come to say good-bye on being ordered
+to France.
+
+But by that time money troubles at home with which, as it seemed to her,
+she had been surrounded all her life, had grown so pressing that, apart
+from Lady Margaret's reiterated counsels, she herself had come to
+recognize that a suitable marriage was the only way out of their
+ever-increasing embarrassment.
+
+She and Robin, she recalled with a feeling of relief, had never
+discussed the matter. He, too, had understood and had sailed for France
+without seeking to take advantage of the circumstance.
+
+Outside in the black night a car throbbed. Footsteps crunched the gravel
+beneath her window. The sounds brought her back to the present with a
+sudden pang. She began to think of Hartley Parrish. All her life she
+had been so very poor that, until she had met this big, vigorous,
+intensely vital man, she had never known what a lavish command of money
+meant. Hartley Parrish did things in a big way. If he wanted a thing he
+bought it, as he had bought Bude, as he had bought a car he had seen
+standing outside a Pall Mall club and admired. He had rooted the owner
+out, bade him name his price, and had paid it, there and then, by
+cheque, and driven Mary off to a lawn tennis tournament at Queen's,
+hugely delighted by her bewilderment.
+
+She did not love him. She could never have learnt to love him. There was
+a gleeful zest in his enjoyment of his money, an ostentatious parade of
+his riches which repelled her. And there was a look in his face, those
+narrow eyes, that hard mouth, which revealed to her womanly intuition a
+ruthlessness which she guessed he kept for his business. But she liked
+him, especially his reverent and chivalrous devotion to her, and the
+thought that his dominating and vital personality was extinguished for
+ever made her conscious of a great void in her life.
+
+And now she was rich. Hartley Parrish's idea of "proper provision" for
+her, she knew, meant wealth for her beyond anything she had ever
+dreamed. The perpetual debasing struggle with poverty which she and her
+mother had carried on for years was a thing of the past. Money meant
+freedom, freedom to live ... and to love.
+
+She stretched her hands out to the blaze. Was she free to love? What had
+driven Hartley Parrish to suicide? Or who? She went over in her mind her
+interview with Robin Greve in the billiard-room. He had spoken of other
+women in connection with Hartley Parrish. Had he used that knowledge to
+threaten his rival? What had Robin done after he had left her that
+afternoon with his final taunt?
+
+She felt the blood rise to her cheeks as she thought of it. Mary Trevert
+had all the pride of her ancient race. The recollection of that taunt
+galled her. Her loyalty to the man from whom she had received nothing
+but chivalry, whose fortune was to banish a hideous nightmare from her
+life, rose up in arms. What had Robin done? She must know the truth ...
+
+A tap came at the door. Bude appeared.
+
+"I think you rang, Miss," he said in his quiet, deep voice. "I was with
+the Inspector, Miss, and I couldn't come before. Was there anything?..."
+
+The girl turned in her chair.
+
+"Come in and shut the door, Bude," she said. "I want to speak to you."
+
+The butler obeyed and came over to where she sat. He seemed ill at ease
+and rather apprehensive.
+
+"Bude," said the girl, "I want you to tell me why you were certain that
+Mr. Greve was going to Mr. Parrish in the library when he passed you in
+the hall this afternoon!"
+
+The butler smoothed his hands down his trousers in embarrassment.
+
+"I thought he ... Mr. Greve ... would be sure to be going to fetch Mr.
+Parrish in to tea, Miss ..." he replied, eyeing the girl anxiously.
+
+Mary Trevert continued gazing into the fire.
+
+"You know it is a rule in this house, Bude," she said, "that Mr. Parrish
+is never disturbed in the library ..."
+
+The butler changed his position uneasily.
+
+"Yes, Miss, but I thought ..."
+
+Slowly Mary Trevert turned and looked at the man.
+
+"Bude,"--her voice was very calm,--"I want you to tell me the truth. You
+know that Mr. Greve went in to Mr. Parrish ..."
+
+Bude looked uneasily about him.
+
+"Oh, Miss," he answered, almost in a whisper, "whatever are you saying?"
+
+"I want your answer, Bude," the girl said coldly.
+
+Bude did not speak. He rubbed his hands up and down his trousers in
+desperation.
+
+"I wish to know why Mr. Parrish did this thing, Bude. I mean to know.
+And I think you are keeping something back!"
+
+The challenge resounded clearly, firmly.
+
+"Miss Trevert, ma'am," the butler said in a low voice, "I wouldn't take
+it upon me to say anything as would get anybody in this house into
+trouble...."
+
+"You saw Mr. Greve go into Mr. Parrish?"
+
+The butler raised his hands in a quick gesture of denial.
+
+"God forbid, Miss!" he ejaculated in horror.
+
+"What, then, do you know that is likely to get anybody here into
+trouble?"
+
+The butler hesitated an instant. Then he spoke.
+
+"That Inspector Humphries has been asking me questions, Miss, in a
+nasty, suspicious sort o' way. I told him, what I told him already, that
+just after I'd done serving the tea Mr. Greve crossed the hall and went
+down the library corridor...."
+
+"You didn't tell him everything, Bude?"
+
+The butler took a step nearer.
+
+"Oh, Miss," he said, lowering his voice, "if you'll pardon my frankness,
+but I know as how you and Mr. Greve are old friends, and I wouldn't
+take it upon me to tell the police anything as might ..."
+
+Mary Trevert stood up and faced the man.
+
+"Bude," said she, "Mr. Parrish was your master, a kind and generous
+master as he was kind and generous to every one in this house. We must
+clear up the mystery of his ... of his death. Neither you nor I nor Mr.
+Greve nor anybody must stand in the way. Now, tell me the truth!"
+
+She dropped back into her chair. She gave the order imperiously like the
+mistress of the house. The butler, trained through life to receive
+orders, surrendered.
+
+"There's nothing much to tell, Miss. When Mr. Humphries asked me if I
+were the last person to see Mr. Parrish alive, I made sure that Mr.
+Greve would say he had been in to tell him tea was ready. But Mr. Greve,
+who heard the Inspector's question and my answer, said nothing. So I
+thought, maybe, he had his reasons and I did not feel exactly as how it
+was my place ..."
+
+Mary Trevert tapped with her foot impatiently.
+
+"But what grounds have you for saying that Mr. Greve went in to Mr.
+Parrish? Mr. Greve declared quite positively that he went out by the
+side door and did not go into the library at all."
+
+"But, Miss, I heard him speaking to Mr. Parrish ..."
+
+The girl turned round and the man saw fear in her wide-open eyes.
+
+The butler put his hand on the back of her chair and leaned forward.
+
+"Better leave things where they are, Miss," he said in a low voice. "Mr.
+Parrish, I dare say, had his reasons. He's gone to his last account now.
+What does it matter why he done it ..."
+
+The man was agitated, and in his emotion his carefully studied English
+was forsaking him.
+
+But the girl broke in incisively.
+
+"Please explain what you mean!" she commanded.
+
+"Why, Miss," replied the butler, "we know that Mr. Greve had no call to
+like Mr. Parrish seeing how things were between you and the master ..."
+
+"You mean the servants know that Mr. Parrish and I were engaged ..."
+
+Bude made a deprecatory gesture.
+
+"Know, Miss? I wouldn't go so far as to say 'know.' But there has been
+some talk in the servants' 'all, Miss. You know what young female
+servants are, Miss ..."
+
+"And you think that Mr. Greve went to Mr. Parrish to talk about ... me?"
+
+Mary Trevert's voice faltered a little. She looked eagerly at the
+other's fat, smooth face.
+
+"I presoomed as much, Miss, I must confess!"
+
+"But what did you hear Mr. Greve say?"
+
+"I heard nothing, Miss, except just only the sound of voices. After Mr.
+Greve had crossed me in the hall, I took the salver I was carrying into
+the butler's pantry. I stayed there a minute or two, and then I
+remembered I had not collected the letters from the box in the hall for
+the chauffeur to take to the post, the same as he does every evening. I
+went back to the hall, and just as I opened the green baize door I heard
+voices from the library ..."
+
+"Was it Mr. Greve's voice?"
+
+"I cannot say, Miss. It was just the sound of voices, rather loud-like.
+I caught the sound because the door leading from the hall to the library
+corridor was ajar. Mr. Greve must have forgotten to shut it."
+
+"What did you do?"
+
+"Well, Miss, I closed the corridor door ..."
+
+"Why did you do that?"
+
+"Well, Miss, seeing the voices sounded angry-like, I thought perhaps it
+would be better not to let any one else hear.... And Mr. Greve looked
+upset-like when he passed me. He gave me quite a turn, he did, when I
+saw his face under the hall lamp...."
+
+"Did you stay there ... and listen?"
+
+Bude drew himself up.
+
+"That is not my 'abit, Miss, not 'ere nor in hany of the 'ouses where I
+'ave seen service...."
+
+The butler broke off. The _h_'s were too much for him in his
+indignation.
+
+"I didn't mean to suggest anything underhand," the girl said quickly. "I
+mean, did you hear any more?"
+
+"No, Miss. I emptied the letter-box and took the letters to the
+servants' hall."
+
+"But," said Mary in a puzzled way, "why do you say it was Mr. Greve if
+you didn't hear his voice?"
+
+Bude spread out his hands in bewilderment.
+
+"Who else should it have been, Miss? Sir Horace and the doctor were in
+the lounge at tea. Jay and Robert were in the servants' hall. It could
+have been nobody else...."
+
+The girl's head sank slowly on her breast. She was silent. The butler
+shifted his position.
+
+"Was there anything more, Miss?" he asked after a little while.
+
+"There is nothing further, thank you, Bude," replied Mary. "About Mr.
+Greve, I am sure there must be some mistake. He cannot have understood
+Mr. Humphries's question. I'll ask him about it when I see him. I don't
+think I should say anything to the Inspector about it, at any rate, not
+until I've seen Mr. Greve. He'll probably speak to you about it
+himself...."
+
+Bude made a motion as though he were going to say something. Then
+apparently he thought better of it, for he made a little formal bow and
+in his usual slow and dignified manner made his exit from the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+ROBIN GOES TO MARY
+
+The house telephone, standing on the long and gracefully designed desk
+with its elaborately lacquered top, whirred. Mary started from her
+reverie in her chair by the fire. By the clock on the mantelshelf she
+saw that it was a quarter past eight. She remembered that once her
+mother had knocked at her door and bidden her come down to dinner. She
+had refused the invitation, declining to unlock the door.
+
+She lifted the receiver.
+
+"That you, Mary?"
+
+Robin was speaking.
+
+"May I come up and see you? Or would you rather be left alone?"
+
+His firm, pleasant voice greatly comforted her. Only then she realized
+how greatly she craved sympathy. But the recollection of Bude's story
+suddenly interposed itself like a barrier between them.
+
+"Yes, come up," she said, "I want to speak to you!"
+
+Her voice was dispirited,
+
+"I don't want to see him," she told herself as she replaced the
+receiver, got up, and unlocked the door, "but I must _know_!"
+
+A gentle tap came at the door. Robin came in quickly and crossed to
+where she stood by the fire.
+
+"My dear!" he said and put out his two hands.
+
+Her hands were behind her back, the fingers nervously intertwining. She
+kept them there and made no sign that she had observed his gesture.
+
+He looked at her in surprise.
+
+"This has been terrible for you, Mary," he said. "I wish to God I could
+make you realize how very, very much I feel for you in what you must be
+going through...."
+
+The phrase was formal and he brought it out irresolutely, chilled as he
+was by her reception. She was looking at him dispassionately, her
+forehead a little puckered, her eyes a trifle hard.
+
+"Won't you sit down," she said. "There is something I wanted to say!"
+
+He was looking at her now in a puzzled fashion. With rather feigned
+deliberation he chose a chair and sat down facing the fire. A lamp on
+the mantelpiece--the only light in the room--threw its rays on his face.
+His chin was set rather more squarely than his wont and his eyes were
+shining.
+
+"Mary,"--he leant forward towards her,--"please forget what I said this
+afternoon. It was beastly of me, but I hardly knew what I was
+doing...."
+
+She made a little gesture as if to wave his apology aside. Then, with
+her hands clasped in front of her, scanning the nails, she asked, almost
+casually:
+
+"What did you say to Hartley Parrish in the library this afternoon?"
+
+Robin stared at her in amazement.
+
+"But I was not in the library!" he answered.
+
+The girl dropped her hands sharply to her side.
+
+"Don't quibble with me, Robin," she said. "What did you say to Hartley
+Parrish after you left me this afternoon in the billiard-room?"
+
+He was still staring at her, but now there was a deep furrow between his
+brows. He was breathing rather hard.
+
+"I did not speak to Parrish at all after I left you."
+
+His answer was curt and incisive.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," Mary said, "that, after you left me and went
+down the corridor towards the library, you neither went in to Hartley
+nor spoke to him!"
+
+"I do!"
+
+"Then how do you account for the fact that, almost immediately after you
+had crossed Bude in the hall, he heard the sound of voices in the
+library?"
+
+Robin Greve stood up abruptly.
+
+"Bude, you say, makes this statement?"
+
+"Certainly!"
+
+"To whom, may I ask?"
+
+He spoke sharply and there was a challenging ring in his voice. It
+nettled the girl.
+
+"Only to me," she said quickly, and added: "You needn't think he has
+told the police!"
+
+Very deliberately Robin plucked his handkerchief from his sleeve, wiped
+his lips, and replaced it. The girl saw that his hands were trembling.
+
+"Why do you say that to me?" he demanded rather fiercely.
+
+Mary Trevert shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"This afternoon," she said, "when I told you of my engagement to
+Hartley, you began by abusing him to me, you rushed from the room making
+straight for the library where we all know that Hartley was working, and
+a few minutes after Bude hears voices raised in anger proceeding from
+there. The next thing we know is that Hartley has ..."
+
+She broke off and looked away.
+
+"Mary,"--Robin's voice was grave, and he had mastered all signs of
+irritation,--"you and I have known one another all our lives. You ought
+to know me well enough by now to understand that I don't tell you lies.
+When I say I haven't seen or spoken to Hartley Parrish since lunch this
+afternoon, that is the truth!"
+
+"How can it be the truth?" the girl insisted. "Horace and Dr. Romain
+were both in the lounge-hall, Bude was in the hall, the other
+menservants were in the servants' hall. You are the only man in the
+house not accounted for, and a minute before Bude heard these voices you
+go down the corridor towards the library. I can understand you wanting
+to keep it from the police, but why do you want to deceive _me_?"
+
+"Mary," answered the young man sternly, "I know you're upset, but that's
+no justification for persisting in this stupid charge against me. I tell
+you I never saw Parrish or spoke to him, either, between lunch and when
+I saw him lying dead in the library. I am not going to repeat the
+denial. But you may as well understand now that I am not in the habit of
+allowing my friends to doubt my word!"
+
+Mary flamed up at his tone.
+
+"If you are my friend," she cried, "why can't you trust me? Why should I
+find this out from Bude? Why should I be humiliated by hearing from the
+butler that he kept this evidence from the police in order to please me
+because you and I are friends? I am only trying to help you, to shield
+you ..."
+
+"That will do, Mary," he said. "No, you must hear what I have to say. If
+you insist on disbelieving me, you must. But I don't want you to help
+me. I don't want you to shield me. I shall make it my business to see
+that Bude's evidence is brought before the detective inspector from
+Scotland Yard who is being brought down here to handle the case ..."
+
+"A detective from Scotland Yard?" the girl repeated.
+
+"Yes, a detective. Humphries is puzzled by several points about this
+case and has asked for assistance from London. He is right. Neither the
+circumstances of Parrish's death nor the motive of his act are clear.
+Bude's evidence is sufficient proof that somebody did gain access to the
+library this afternoon. In that case...."
+
+"Yes...."
+
+"In that case," said Greve slowly, "it may not be suicide...."
+
+Mary put one hand suddenly to her face as women do when they are
+frightened. She shrank back.
+
+"You mean...."
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Murder!"
+
+The girl gave a little gasp. Then she stretched out her hand and
+touched his arm.
+
+"But, Robin," she spoke in quick gasps,--"you can't give the police this
+evidence of Bude's. Don't you see it incriminates _you?_ Don't you
+realize that every scrap of evidence points to you as being the man that
+visited Mr. Parrish in the library this afternoon? You're a lawyer,
+Robin. You understand these things. Don't you see what I mean?"
+
+He nodded curtly.
+
+"Perfectly," he replied coldly.
+
+"Bude will do what I tell him," the girl hurried on. "There is no need
+for the police to know...."
+
+"On the contrary," said the other imperturbably, "it is essential they
+should be told at once."
+
+The girl grasped the lapels of his coat in her two hands. Her breath
+came quickly and she trembled all over.
+
+"Are you mad, Robin?" she cried. "Who could have wanted to kill poor
+Hartley? Why should you put these ideas into the heads of the police?
+Bude may have imagined everything. Now, you'll be sensible, promise
+me...."
+
+Very gently he detached the two slim hands that held his coat. His mouth
+was set in a firm line.
+
+"We are going to sift this thing to the bottom, Mary," he said, "no
+matter what are the consequences. You owe it to Parrish and you owe it
+to me...."
+
+The telephone trilled suddenly.
+
+Robin picked up the receiver,
+
+"Yes, Bude," he said.
+
+There was a moment's silence in the room broken as the clock on the
+mantelpiece chimed nine times. Then Robin said into the telephone:
+
+"Right! Tell him I'll be down immediately!"
+
+He put down the receiver and turned to Mary.
+
+"A detective inspector has arrived from London. He is asking to see me.
+I must go downstairs."
+
+Mary, her elbows on the mantelpiece, was staring into the fire. At the
+sound of his voice she swung round quickly.
+
+"Robin!" she cried.
+
+But she spoke too late.
+
+Robin Greve had left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+MR. MANDERTON
+
+A quality which had gone far to lay the foundations of the name which
+Robin Greve was rapidly making at the bar was his strong intuitive
+sense. He had the rare ability of correctly 'sensing' an atmosphere, an
+uncanny _flair_ for driving instantly at the heart of a situation, which
+rendered him in the courts a dexterous advocate and a redoubtable
+opponent.
+
+Now, as he came into the lounge from the big oak staircase, he instantly
+realized that he had entered an unfriendly atmosphere. The concealed
+lights which were set all round the cornice of the room were turned on,
+flooding the pleasantly snug room with soft reflected light. A little
+group stood about the fire, Bude, Jay, Hartley Parrish's man, and a
+stranger. Jay was engaged in earnest conversation with the stranger. But
+at the sound of Greve's foot upon the staircase, the conversation ceased
+and a silence fell on the group.
+
+Greve's attention was immediately attracted towards the stranger, whom
+he surmised to be the detective from Scotland Yard. He was a big, burly
+man with a heavy dark moustache, straight and rather thin black hair,
+and coarse features. He looked a full-blooded, plethoric person with
+reddish-blue veins on his florid face, and a heavy jowl which
+over-feeding, Robin surmised, had made fullish. He was very neatly
+dressed in his black overcoat with velvet collar carefully brushed, his
+natty black tie with its pearl pin, and well-polished boots. His black
+bowler hat, with a pair of heavy dogskin gloves, neatly folded, lay on
+the table.
+
+"This Mr. Greve?"
+
+Bude and Jay fell back as Robin joined the group. The detective bent his
+gaze on the young barrister as he put his question, and Robin for the
+first time noticed his eyes. Keen and clear, they were ill-suited, he
+thought, to the rather gross features of the man. By right he should
+have had either the small and roguish or the pale and expressionless
+eyes which are habitually found in individuals of the sanguine
+temperament.
+
+The detective had a trick of dropping his eyes to his boots. When he
+raised them, the effect was to alter his whole expression. His eyes,
+well-open, keenly observant, in perpetual motion, lent an air of
+alertness, of shrewdness, to his heavy, florid countenance.
+
+"That is my name," said Robin, answering his question. "I am a
+barrister. I have met some of your people at the Yard, but I don't
+think...."
+
+"Detective-Inspector Manderton," interjected the big man, and paused as
+though to say, "Let that sink in!"
+
+Robin knew him well by repute. His qualities were those of the bull-dog,
+slow-moving, obstinately brave, and desperately tenacious. His was a
+name to conjure with among the criminal classes, and his career was
+starred with various sensational tussles with desperate criminals, for
+Detective-Inspector Manderton, when engaged on a case, invariably "took
+a hand himself," as he phrased it, when an arrest was to be made. A
+bullet-hole in his right thigh and an imperfectly knitted right
+collar-bone remained to remind him of this propensity of his. His motto,
+as he was fond of saying, was, "What I have I hold!"
+
+"Well, Mr. Greve," said the detective in a loud, hectoring voice,
+"perhaps you will be good enough to tell me what you know of this
+affair?"
+
+Robin flushed angrily at the man's manner. But there was no trace of
+resentment in his voice as he replied. He told Manderton what he had
+already told Humphries: how he had gone from the billiard-room across
+the hall and down the library corridor to the side-door into the
+grounds, intending to have a stroll before tea, but, finding that it
+was threatening rain, had returned to the house by the front door.
+
+The detective scanned the young man's face closely as he spoke. When
+Robin had finished, the other dropped his eyes and seemed to be
+examining the brilliant polish of his boots. He said nothing, and again
+Robin became aware of the atmosphere of hostility towards him which this
+man radiated.
+
+"It is dark at five o'clock?"
+
+Manderton turned to Bude.
+
+"Getting on that way, sir," the butler agreed.
+
+"Are you in the habit, sir,"--the detective turned to Robin now,--"of
+going out for walks in the dark?"
+
+Greve shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I had been sitting in the billiard-room. It was rather stuffy, so I
+thought I'd like some air before tea!"
+
+"You left Miss Trevert in the billiard-room?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+Greve put a hand to his throat and eased his collar.
+
+"The gong had sounded for tea," the detective went on imperturbably;
+"surely it would have been more natural for you to have brought Miss
+Trevert with you?"
+
+"I didn't wish to!"
+
+Mr. Manderton cleared his throat.
+
+"Ah!" he grunted. "You didn't wish to. I should like you to be frank
+with me, Mr. Greve, please. Was it not a fact that you and Miss Trevert
+had words?"
+
+He looked up sharply at him with contracted pupils.
+
+"You took a certain interest in this young lady?"
+
+"Mr. Manderton,"--Robin spoke with a certain _hauteur_,--"don't you
+think we might leave Miss Trevert's name out of this?"
+
+"Mr. Greve," replied the detective bluntly, "I don't!"
+
+Robin made a little gesture of resignation.
+
+"Before the servants...."
+
+"Come, come, sir," the detective broke in, "with all respect to the
+young lady and yourself, it was a matter of common knowledge in the
+house that she and you were ... well, old friends. It was remarked, Mr.
+Greve, I may remind you, that you looked very upset-like when you left
+the billiard-room to"--he paused perceptibly--"to go for your stroll in
+the dark."
+
+Robin glanced quickly round the group. Jay averted his eyes. As for
+Bude, he was the picture of embarrassment.
+
+"You seem to be singularly well posted in the gossip of the servants'
+hall, Mr. Manderton!" said Robin hotly.
+
+It was a foolish remark, and Robin regretted it the moment the words had
+left his mouth.
+
+"Well, yes," commented the detective slowly, "I am. I shall be well
+posted on the whole of this case, presently, I hope, sir!"
+
+His manner was perfectly respectful, but reserved almost to a tone of
+menace.
+
+"In that case," said Robin, "I'll tell you something you don't know, Mr.
+Manderton. Has Bude told you what he heard after I had passed him in the
+hall?"
+
+Interest flashed at once into the detective's face. He turned quickly to
+the butler. Robin felt he had scored.
+
+"What did you hear?" he said sharply.
+
+Bude looked round wildly. His large, fish-like mouth twitched, and he
+made a few feeble gestures with his hands.
+
+"It was only perhaps an idea of mine, sir," he stammered,--"just a sort
+of idea ... I dare say I was mistaken. My hearing ain't what it was,
+sir...."
+
+"Don't you try to hoodwink me," said Manderton, with sudden ferocity,
+knitting his brows and frowning at the unfortunate butler. "Come on and
+tell us what you heard. Mr. Greve knows and I mean to. Out with it!"
+
+Bude cast a reproachful glance at Robin. Then he said:
+
+"Well, sir, a minute or two after Mr. Greve had passed me, I went back
+to the hall and through the open door of the corridor leading to the
+library, I heard voices!"
+
+"Voices, eh? Did you recognize them?"
+
+"No, sir. It was just the sound of talking!"
+
+"You told Miss Trevert they were loud voices, Bude!" Robin interrupted.
+
+"Yes, sir," replied the butler, "they were loudish in a manner o'
+speaking, else I shouldn't have heard them!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+The detective rapped the question out sharply.
+
+"Why, because the library door was locked, sir!"
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"Because Miss Trevert and Dr. Romain both tried the handle and couldn't
+get in!"
+
+"Ah!" said Manderton, "you mean the door was locked _when the body was
+found!_ Now, as to these voices. Were they men's voices?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I should say so."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because they were deep-like!"
+
+"Was Mr. Hartley Parrish's voice one of them?"
+
+The butler spread out his hands.
+
+"That I couldn't say! I just heard the murmur-like, then shut the
+passage door quickly ..."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Well, sir, I thought ... I didn't want to listen...."
+
+"You thought one of the voices was Mr. Greve's, eh? Having a row with
+Mr. Parrish, eh? About the lady, isn't that right?"
+
+"Aren't you going rather too fast?" said Robin quietly.
+
+But the detective ignored him.
+
+"Come on and answer my question, my man," he said harshly. "Didn't you
+think it was Mr. Hartley Parrish and Mr. Greve here having a bit of a
+dust-up about the young lady being engaged to Mr. Parrish?"
+
+"Well, perhaps I did, but...."
+
+Like a flash the detective turned on Robin.
+
+"What do you know about this?" he demanded fiercely.
+
+"Nothing," said Greve. "As I have told you already, I did not see Mr.
+Parrish alive again after lunch, nor did I speak to him. What I would
+suggest to you now is that upon this evidence of Bude's depends the
+vitally important question of how Mr. Parrish met his death. Though he
+was found with a revolver in his hand, none of us in this house know of
+any good motive for his suicide. I put it to you that the man who can
+furnish us with this motive is the owner of the voice heard by Bude in
+conversation with Mr. Parrish, since obviously nobody other than Mr.
+Parrish and possibly this unknown person was in the library block at the
+time. And I would further remark, Mr. Manderton, that, until the bullet
+has been extracted, we do not know that Mr. Parrish killed
+_himself_..."
+
+"No," said the detective significantly, "we don't!"
+
+He had dropped his eyes to the ground now and was studying the pattern
+of the hearth-rug.
+
+"You say you heard no shot?" he suddenly asked Robin.
+
+"No!"
+
+"No one other than Miss Trevert, I gather, heard the shot?"
+
+"That is so!"
+
+Mr. Manderton consulted a slip of paper which he drew from his pocket.
+
+"Inspector Humphries," he said, "has drawn up a rough time-table of
+events leading up to Mr. Parrish's death, based on the evidence he has
+taken here this evening. You will tell me if it tallies."
+
+He read from the slip:
+
+  5 P.M. Bude sounds the gong for tea.
+
+  5.10   Mr. Greve passes Bude in the hall and goes
+         down the corridor leading to the library.
+         Mr. Greve states he went straight out by
+         the side door into the gardens.
+
+The detective looked up from his reading.
+
+"At 5.12, let us say, Bude comes back from the servants' quarters to the
+hall and hears voices from the library. He closes the passage door. Is
+that right?"
+
+Bude nodded.
+
+"It would be about two minutes after I saw Mr. Greve the first time," he
+agreed.
+
+"Very well!"
+
+The detective resumed his reading.
+
+  5.15 P.M. Miss Trevert goes to fetch Mr. Parrish
+            in to tea. She finds the library door
+            locked. Tries the handle and hears a
+            shot.
+
+5.18 (say) Miss Trevert comes into the lounge hall
+and gives the alarm.
+
+"Now, sir," said Mr. Manderton briskly, "I should like to ask you one or
+two further questions. Firstly, how long were you out on your stroll in
+the dark?"
+
+"I should think about two or three minutes."
+
+"That is to say, if you left the house by the side door at 5.10, you
+were back in the house by 5.13."
+
+"Yes, that would be right," Robin agreed.
+
+"And what did you do when you came in?"
+
+"I went up to my room to fetch a letter for the post."
+
+"Miss Trevert heard the shot fired at 5.15. Where were you at that
+time?"
+
+"In my bedroom, I should say. I was there for a few minutes as I had to
+write a cheque...."
+
+"And where is your bedroom?"
+
+"In the other wing above the billiard-room."
+
+"Hm! A pistol shot makes a great deal of noise. It seems strange that
+nobody in the house should have heard it."
+
+Here Bude interposed.
+
+"Mr. Parrish, sir, was very particular about noise. He had the library
+door and the door leading from the front hall to the library corridor
+specially felted so that he should not hear any sounds from the house
+when he was working in the library. That library wing was absolutely
+shut off from the rest of the house. It was always uncommon quiet...."
+
+But the detective, ignoring him, turned to Robin again.
+
+"I have been round the house," he said. "It does not seem to me it
+ought to take you three or even two minutes to walk from the side door
+to the front door. I should say it would be a matter of about thirty
+seconds!"
+
+"Excuse me," Robin answered quickly, "I didn't say I went straight from
+the side to the front door. I went through the gardens following the
+path that leads to the main drive. There I turned and came back to the
+front door."
+
+"And you assert that you heard nothing?"
+
+"I heard nothing."
+
+"Neither the 'loud voices' which the butler heard within two minutes of
+your leaving the house nor the shot fired five minutes later?"
+
+"I heard nothing."
+
+Mr. Manderton examined the toes of his boots carefully.
+
+"You heard nothing!" he repeated.
+
+The door opened suddenly and Dr. Romain appeared. With him was the
+village practitioner and Inspector Humphries.
+
+Dr. Redstone carried in his hand a little pad of cotton wool. He bore it
+over to the fireplace and unwrapping the lint showed a twisted fragment
+of lead lying on the bloodstained dressing.
+
+"Straight through the heart and lodged in the spine," he said. "Death
+was absolutely instantaneous."
+
+The detective picked up the bullet and scrutinized it closely.
+
+"Browning pistol ammunition," observed Humphries; "it fits the gun he
+used. There's half a dozen spare rounds in one of the drawers of his
+dressing-room upstairs."
+
+Mr. Manderton drew Inspector Humphries and Dr. Redstone into a corner of
+the room where they conversed in undertones. Bude and Jay had vanished.
+Dr. Romain turned to Robin Greve, who stood lost in a reverie, staring
+into the fire.
+
+"A clear case of suicide," he said. "The medical evidence is conclusive
+on that point. A most amazing affair. I can't conceive what drove him to
+it. Why _did_ he do it?"
+
+"Ah! why?" said Robin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+A SMOKING CHIMNEY
+
+A Red sun glowed dully through a thin mist when, on the following
+morning, Robin Greve emerged from the side door into the gardens of
+Harkings. It was a still, mild day. Moisture from the night's rain yet
+hung translucent on the black limbs of the bare trees and glistened like
+diamonds on the closely cropped turf of the lawn. In the air was a
+pleasant smell of damp earth.
+
+Robin paused an instant outside the door in the library corridor and
+inhaled the morning air greedily. He had spent a restless, fitful night.
+His sleep had been haunted by the riddle which, since the previous
+evening, had cast its shadow over the pleasant house. The mystery of
+Hartley Parrish's death obsessed him. If it was suicide,--and the
+doctors were both positive on the point--the motive eluded him utterly.
+
+His mind, trained to logical processes of reasoning by his practice of
+the law, baulked at the theory. When he thought of Hartley Parrish as he
+had seen him at luncheon on the day before, striding with his quick,
+vigorous step into the room, boyishly curious to know what the _chef_
+was giving them to eat, devouring his lunch with obvious animal
+enjoyment, brimful of energy, dominating the table with his forceful,
+eager personality....
+
+The sound of voices in the library broke in upon his thoughts. Robin
+raised his head and listened. Some one appeared to be talking in a loud
+voice ... no, not talking ... rather declaiming.
+
+Stepping quietly on the hard gravel path, Robin turned the corner of the
+house and came into view of the library window. The window-pane gaped,
+shattered where Horace Trevert had broken the glass on the previous
+evening when effecting an entrance into the room. Framed in the ragged
+outline of the splintered glass, bulked the large form of Sergeant
+Harris. He stood half turned from the window so as to catch the light on
+a copy of _The Times_ which he held in his red and freckled hands. He
+was reading aloud in stentorian tones from a leading article.
+
+"While this country," he bawled sonorously, "cannot ... in h'our
+belief ... hevade ... er ... responsibility ... er ... h'm disquieting
+sitwation ..."
+
+"Dear me!" thought Robin to himself, "what a very extraordinary morning
+pursuit for our police!"
+
+Suddenly the reading was interrupted.
+
+Robin heard the library door open. Then Manderton's voice cried:
+
+"That'll do, thank you, Sergeant!"
+
+"Did you 'ear me, sir?" asked the sergeant, who seemed very much
+relieved to be quit of his task.
+
+"Not a word!" was the reply. "But we'll try with the library door open!
+I'll go back to the hall and you start again!"
+
+A thoughtful look on his face, Robin turned quickly and, hurrying round
+the side of the house, entered by the front door. Standing by the door
+leading to the library corridor he found Manderton.
+
+The detective did not seem particularly glad to see him.
+
+"Good-morning, Inspector," said Robin affably, "you're early to work, I
+see. Having a little experiment, eh?"
+
+Manderton nodded without replying. Then the stentorian tones of Sergeant
+Harris proclaiming the views of "The Thunderer" on the Silesian
+situation rolled down the corridor and struck distinctly on the ears of
+the listeners in the hall.
+
+Presently Manderton closed the corridor door, shutting off the sound
+abruptly.
+
+"I think you said you could not hear the sergeant with the library door
+shut?" queried Robin suavely.
+
+"With the door shut--no," answered the detective shortly. "But with the
+door open ..."
+
+He broke off significantly and dropped his eyes to his boots.
+
+"Would it be troubling you," Robin struck in, "if we pushed your
+experiment one step farther?"
+
+Manderton lifted his eyes and looked at the young man, Robin met his
+gaze unflinchingly.
+
+"Well?"
+
+There was no invitation in his voice, but Robin affected to disregard
+the other's coldness.
+
+"Let the library door be shut," said Robin, "but leave the glass door
+leading into the garden open. Then give Sergeant Harris another trial at
+his reading...."
+
+The detective smiled rather condescendingly.
+
+"With the library door shut, you'll hear nothing," he remarked.
+
+"The library window is open," Robin retorted, "or rather it is as good
+as open, as one of the two big panes is smashed...."
+
+His voice vibrated with eagerness. The detective looked at him
+curiously.
+
+"Oh, try if you like," he said carelessly.
+
+Without waiting for his assent, Robin had already plucked open the
+corridor door and was halfway down the passage as the other replied. He
+was back again almost at once and, motioning the detective to silence,
+took his place at his side by the open door. Then the sound of the
+policeman's voice was heard from the corridor. It was muffled and
+indistinct so that the sense of his words could not be made out. But the
+voice was audible enough.
+
+Robin turned to the detective.
+
+"Bude could make out no words," he said.
+
+"But how do we know that the glass door was open?" queried the detective
+sceptically.
+
+"Because I left it open myself," Robin countered promptly, "when I went
+out for my walk before tea. Sir Horace told me that he found the door
+banging about in the wind when he went out lo get into the library by
+the window."
+
+Mr. Manderton allowed his fat, serious face to expand very slowly into a
+broad, superior smile.
+
+"Doesn't it seem a little curious," he said, "that Mr. Hartley Parrish
+should choose to sit and work in the library on a gusty and dark winter
+evening with the window wide open? You'll allow, I think, that the
+window was not broken until after his death ..."
+
+Robin's nerves were ragged. The man's tone nettled him exceedingly. But
+he confined himself to making a little gesture of impatience.
+
+"No, no, sir," said Mr. Manderton, very decidedly, "I prefer to think
+that the library door was open, left open by the party who went in to
+speak to Mr. Parrish yesterday afternoon ... and who knows more about
+the gentleman's suicide than he would have people think ..."
+
+Robin boiled over fairly at this.
+
+"Good God, man!" he exclaimed, "do you accept this theory of suicide as
+blandly as all that? Have you examined the body? Don't you use your
+eyes? I tell you ... bah, what's the use? I'm not here to do your work
+for you!..."
+
+"No, sir," said the detective, quite unruffled, "you are not. And I
+think I'll continue to see about it myself!"
+
+With that he opened the corridor door and vanished down the passage.
+
+With great deliberation Robin selected a cigarette from his case, lit
+it, and walked out through the front door into the fresh air again. More
+than ever he felt the riddle of Hartley Parrish's death weighing upon
+his mind.
+
+His intuitive sense rebelled against the theory of suicide, despite the
+medical evidence, despite the revolver in the dead man's hand, despite
+the detective's assurance. And floating about in his brain, like the
+gossamer on the glistening bushes in the gardens, were broken threads of
+vague suspicions, of half-formed theories, leading from his hasty
+observations in the death chamber ...
+
+In itself the death of Hartley Parrish left him cold. Yes, he must admit
+that. But the look in Mary Trevert's eyes, as she had urged him to
+shield himself from the suspicion of having driven Hartley Parrish to
+his death, haunted him. Already dimly he was beginning to realize that
+Hartley Parrish in death might prove as insuperable a bar between him
+and Mary Trevert as ever he had been in life ...
+
+She was now a wealthy woman. Hartley Parrish's will had ensured that, he
+knew. But it was not the barrier of riches that Robin Greve feared. He
+had asked Mary Trevert to be his wife before there was any thought of
+her inheriting Parrish's fortune. He derived a little consolation from
+that reflection. At least he could not appear as a fortune-hunter in her
+eyes. But, until he could clear himself of the suspicion lurking in Mary
+Trevert's mind that he, Robin Greve, was in some way implicated in
+Hartley Parrish's death, the dead man, he felt, would always stand
+between them. And so ...
+
+Robin pitched the stump of his cigarette into a rose bush with a little
+gesture of resignation. Almost without knowing it, he had strolled into
+the rosery up a shallow flight of steps cut into the bank of green
+turf, which ran along the side of the house facing the library window to
+the corner of the house where it met the clipped box-hedge of the
+Pleasure Ground.
+
+The rosery was a pleasant rectangle framed in a sort of rustic bower
+which in the summer was covered with superb roses of every hue and
+variety. Gravel paths intersected rose-beds cut into all manner of
+fantastic shapes where stood the slender shoots of the young rose-trees
+each with its tag setting forth its kind, for Hartley Parrish had been
+an enthusiastic amateur in this direction.
+
+Robin turned round and faced the house. From his elevation he could look
+down into the library through the window with its shattered pane. He
+could see the gleaming polish on Hartley Parrish's big desk and the
+great arm-chair pushed back as Hartley Parrish had pushed it from him
+just before his death.
+
+The bare poles of the woodwork festooned with the black arms of the
+creeping roses, standing out dark in the fast falling winter evening,
+must, he reflected, have been the last view that Hartley Parrish had had
+before ...
+
+But then he broke off his meditations abruptly. His eye had fallen on a
+narrow white patch standing out on one of the uprights supporting the
+clambering roses.
+
+It was a stout young tree, the light brown bark left adhering to its
+surface. It was a long blaze on the bark on the side of the trunk which
+had caught his eye. Robin walked round the gravel path until he was
+within a foot of the pole to get a better view.
+
+The pole stood almost exactly opposite the library window. The scar in
+the bark was high up and diagonal and quite freshly made, for the wood
+was dead white and much splintered.
+
+The young man put a hand on the upright for support and leant forward,
+carefully refraining from putting his foot on the soft brown mould of
+the flower-bed which fringed the path between it and the rustic
+woodwork. Then he ran lightly down the steps until he stood with his
+back to the library window. From here he carefully surveyed the upright
+again, then, returning to the rosery, began a careful scrutiny of the
+gravel paths and the beds.
+
+Apparently his search gave little result, for he presently abandoned it
+and turned his attention to the wooden framework on the other side of
+the rectangular rose-garden. He plunged boldly in among the rose-bushes
+and examined each upright in turn. He spent about half an hour in this
+meticulous investigation, and then, his boots covered with mould, his
+rough shooting-coat glistening with moisture, he walked slowly down the
+steps and reentered the house.
+
+As he was wiping the mud off his boots on the great mat in the front
+hall, Bude came out of the lounge hall with a pile of dishes on a tray.
+
+"Bude," said Robin, "can you tell me if the fire in the library has been
+smoking of late?"
+
+"Well, sir," replied the butler, "we've always had trouble with that
+chimdy when the wind's in the southwest."
+
+"Has it been smoking lately?" The young man reiterated his question
+impatiently.
+
+The man looked up in surprise.
+
+"Well, sir, now you come to mention it, it has. As a matter o'fact, sir,
+the sweep was ordered for to-day ..."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Well, sir, Mr. Parrish had mentioned it to me ..."
+
+"When?"
+
+The question came out like a pistol shot.
+
+"Yesterday, sir," answered the butler blandly. "Just before luncheon, it
+was, sir. Mr. Parrish told me to have that chimdy seen to at once. And I
+telephoned for the sweep immediately after luncheon, sir ..."
+
+"Did Mr. Parrish say anything else, Bude?"
+
+Robin eagerly scanned the butler's fat, unimpressive countenance. Bude,
+his tray held out stiffly in front of him, contracted his bushy eyebrows
+in thought.
+
+"I don't know as he did, sir ..."
+
+"Think, man, think!" Robin urged.
+
+"Well, sir," said Bude, unmoved, "I believe, now I come to think of it,
+that Mr. Parrish did say something about the wind blowing his papers
+about ..."
+
+"That is to say, he had been working with the window open?"
+
+Robin Greve's question rang out sharply. It was an affirmation more than
+a question.
+
+"Yes, sir, leastways I suppose so, sir ..."
+
+"Which window?"
+
+"Why, the one Mr. Parrish always liked to have open in the warm weather,
+sir, ... the one opposite the desk. The other window was never opened,
+sir, because of the dictaphone as stands in front of it. The damp
+affects the mechanism ..."
+
+"Thank you, Bude," said the young man.
+
+With his accustomed majesty the butler wheeled to go. In the turn of his
+head as he moved there was a faint suggestion of a shake ... a shake of
+uncomprehending pity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+"... SPEED THE PARTING GUEST!"
+
+Dr. Romain was just finishing his breakfast as Robin Greve entered the
+dining-room, a cosy oak-panelled room with a bow window fitted with
+cushioned window-seats. Horace Trevert stood with his back to the fire.
+There was no sign of either Lady Margaret or of Mary. Silence seemed to
+fall on both the doctor and his companion as Robin came in. They wore
+that rather abashed look which people unconsciously assume when they
+break off a conversation on an unexpected entry.
+
+"Morning, Horace! Morning, Doctor!" said Robin, crossing to the
+sideboard. "Any sign of Lady Margaret or Mary yet?"
+
+The doctor had risen hastily to his feet.
+
+"I rather think Dr. Redstone is expecting me," he said rapidly; "I half
+promised to go over to Stevenish ... think I'll just run over. The
+walk'll do me good ..."
+
+He looked rather wildly about him, then fairly bolted from the room.
+
+Robin, the cover of the porridge dish in his hand, turned and stared at
+him.
+
+"Why, whatever's the matter with Romain?" he began.
+
+But Horace, who had not spoken a word, was himself halfway to the door.
+
+"Horace!" called out Robin sharply.
+
+The boy stopped with his back towards the other. But he did not turn
+round.
+
+Robin put the cover back on the porridge dish and crossed the room.
+
+"You all seem in the deuce of a hurry this morning ..." he said.
+
+Still the boy made no reply.
+
+"Why, Horace, what's the matter?"
+
+Robin put his hand on young Trevert's shoulder. Horace shook him roughly
+off.
+
+"I don't care to discuss it with you, Robin!" he said.
+
+Robin deliberately swung the boy round until he faced him.
+
+"My dear old thing," he expostulated. "What does it all mean? _What_
+won't you discuss with me?"
+
+Horace Trevert looked straight at the speaker. His upper lip was pouted
+and trembled a little.
+
+"What's the use of talking?" he said. "You know what I mean. Or would
+you like me to be plainer ..."
+
+Robin met his gaze unflinchingly.
+
+"I certainly would," he said, "if it's going to enlighten me as to why
+you should suddenly choose to behave like a lunatic ..."
+
+Horace Trevert leant back and thrust his hands into his pockets.
+
+"After what happened here yesterday," he said, speaking very clearly and
+deliberately, "I wonder you have the nerve to stay ..."
+
+"My dear Horace," said Kobin quite impassively, "would you mind being a
+little more explicit? What precisely are you accusing me of? What have I
+done?"
+
+"Done?" exclaimed the young man heatedly. "Done? Good God! Don't you
+realize that you have dragged my sister into this wretched business?
+Don't you understand that her name will be bandied about before a lot of
+rotten yokels at the inquest?"
+
+Robin Greve's eyes glittered dangerously.
+
+"I confess," he said, with elaborate politeness, "I scarcely understand
+what it has to do with me that Hartley Parrish should apparently commit
+suicide within a few days of becoming engaged to your sister ..."
+
+"Ha!"
+
+Horace Trevert snorted indignantly.
+
+"You don't understand, don't you? We don't understand either. But, I
+must say, we thought _you_ did!"
+
+With that he turned to go. But Robin caught him by the arm.
+
+"Listen to me, Horace," he said. "I'm not going to quarrel with you in
+this house of death. But you're going to tell here and now what you
+meant by that remark. Do you understand? I'm going to know!"
+
+Horace Trevert shook himself free.
+
+"Certainly you shall know," he answered with _hauteur_, "but I must say
+I should have thought that, as a lawyer and so on, you would have
+guessed my meaning without my having to explain. What I mean is that,
+now that Hartley Parrish is dead, there is only one man who knows what
+drove him to his death. And that's yourself! Do you want it plainer than
+that?"
+
+Robin took a step back and looked at his friend. But he did not speak.
+
+"And now," the boy continued, "perhaps you will realize that your
+presence here is disagreeable to Mary ..."
+
+"Did Mary ask you to tell me this?" Robin broke in.
+
+His voice had lost its hardness. It was almost wistful. The change of
+tone was so marked that it struck Horace. He hesitated an instant.
+
+"Yes," he blurted out. "She doesn't want to see you again. I don't want
+to be offensive, Robin.."
+
+"Please don't apologize," said Greve. "I quite understand that this is
+your sister's house now and, of course, I shall leave at once. I'll ask
+Jay to pack my things if you could order the car ..."
+
+The boy moved towards the door. Before he reached it Robin called him
+back.
+
+"Horace," he said pleasantly, "before you go I want you to answer me a
+question. Think before you speak, because it's very important. When you
+got into the library yesterday evening through the window, you smashed
+the glass, didn't you?"
+
+Horace Trevert nodded.
+
+"Yes," he replied, looking hard at Robin.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"To get into the room, of course!"
+
+"Was the window bolted?"
+
+The boy stopped and thought.
+
+"No," he said slowly, "now I come to think of it, I don't believe it
+was. No, of course, it wasn't. I just put my arm through the broken pane
+and shoved the window up. But why do you ask?"
+
+"Oh, nothing," answered Robin nonchalantly. "I just was curious to know,
+that's all!"
+
+Horace stood and looked at him for an instant. Then he went out.
+
+A quarter of an hour later, Hartley Parrish's Rolls-Royce glided through
+the straggling main street of Stevenish. A chapel bell tinkled
+unmusically, and on the pavements, gleaming with wet, went a procession
+of neatly dressed townsfolk bound, prayer-book in hand, for their
+respective places of worship. A newsboy, sorting out the Sunday
+newspapers which had just come down by train from London, was the only
+figure visible on the little station platform. Kobin bought a selection.
+
+"There's all about Mr. Parrish," said the boy, "'im as they found dead
+up at 'Arkings las' night. And the noospapers 'asn't 'arf been sendin'
+down to-day ... reporters and photographers ... you oughter seen the
+crowd as come by the mornin' train ..."
+
+"I wonder what they'll get out of Manderton," commented Robin rather
+grimly to himself as his train puffed leisurely, after the habit of
+Sunday trains, into the quiet little station.
+
+In the solitude of his first-class smoker he unfolded the newspapers.
+None had more than the brief fact that Hartley Parrish had been found
+dead with a pistol in his hand, but they made up for the briefness of
+their reports by long accounts of the dead man's "meteoric career."
+And, Robin noted with relief, hitherto Mary Trevert's name was out of
+the picture.
+
+He dropped the papers on to the seat, and, as the train steamed serenely
+through the Sunday calm of the country towards London's outer suburbs,
+he reviewed in his mind such facts as he had gleaned regarding the
+circumstances of his late host's death.
+
+He would, he told himself, accept for the time being as _facts_ what, he
+admitted to himself, so far only seemed to be such. Hartley Parrish,
+then, had been seated in his library at his desk with the door locked.
+The fire was smoking, and therefore he had opened the window. According
+to Horace Trevert, the window had not been bolted when he had entered
+the library, for, after smashing the pane in the assumption that the
+bolt was shot, he had had no difficulty in pushing up the window.
+Hartley Parrish had opened the window himself, for on the nail of the
+middle finger of his left hand Robin had seen, with the aid of the
+magnifying-glass, a tiny fragment of white paint.
+
+Who had closed it? He had no answer ready to _that_ question.
+
+Now, as to the circumstances of the shooting. The suicide theory invited
+one to believe that Hartley Parrish had got up from his desk, pushing
+back his chair, had gone round it until he stood between the desk and
+the window, and had there shot himself through the heart. Why should he
+have done this?
+
+Robin had no answer ready to this question either. He passed on again.
+Bude had heard loud voices a very few minutes before Mary had heard the
+shot. That morning's experiments had shown that Bude could have heard
+these sounds only by way of the open window of the library and the open
+doors of the garden and the library corridor. Additional proof, if Bude
+had heard aright, that the library window was open.
+
+Leaning back in his seat, his finger-tips pressed together, Robin Greve
+resolutely faced the situation to which his deductions were leading him.
+
+"The voice heard at the open window," he told himself, "was the voice of
+the man who murdered Parrish and who closed the window, that is, of
+course, if the murder theory proves more conclusive than that of
+suicide."
+
+This brought him back to his investigations in the rosery. The abrasure
+he had discovered on the timber upright was the mark of a bullet and a
+mark freshly made at that. Moreover, it had almost certainly been fired
+from the library window--from the window which Parrish had opened; the
+angle at which it had struck and marked the tree showed that almost
+conclusively.
+
+Yet there had been but one shot! If only he had been able to find that
+bullet in the rosery! Robin thought ruefully of his long hunt among the
+sopping rose-bushes.
+
+Yes, there had been only one shot. Mary Trevert had stated it
+definitely. Besides, the bullet that had killed Hartley Parrish had been
+fired from his own revolver and had been found in the body. Robin Greve
+felt the murder theory collapsing about him. But the suicide theory did
+not stand up, either. What possible, probable motive had Hartley Parrish
+for taking his own life?
+
+"He wasn't the man to do it!"
+
+The wheels of the train took up the rhythm of the phrase and dinned it
+into his ears.
+
+"He wasn't the man to do it!"
+
+The riddle seemed more baffling than ever.
+
+Robin thrust one hand into his right-hand pocket to get his pipe, his
+other hand into his left-hand pocket to find his pouch. His left hand
+came into contact with a little ball of paper.
+
+He drew it out. It was the little ball of slatey-blue paper he had found
+on the floor of the library beside Hartley Parrish's dead body.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+MR. MANDERTON IS NONPLUSSED
+
+Horace Trevert walked abruptly into Mary's Chinese boudoir. Lady
+Margaret and the girl were standing by the fire.
+
+"Well," said Horace, dropping into a chair, "he's gone!"
+
+"Who?" said Lady Margaret.
+
+"Robin," answered the boy, "and I must say he took it very well ..."
+
+"You don't mean to tell me, Horace," said his mother, "that you have
+actually sent Robin Greve away ...?"
+
+Mary Trevert put her hand on her mother's arm.
+
+"I wished it, Mother. I asked Horace to send him away ..."
+
+"But, my dear," protested Lady Margaret.
+
+Mary interrupted her impatiently.
+
+"Robin Greve was impossible here. I had to ask him to go. I suppose he
+can come back if ... if they want him for the inquest ..."
+
+Lady Margaret was looking at her daughter in a puzzled way. She was a
+woman of the world and had brought her daughter up to be a woman of the
+world. She knew that Mary was not impulsive by nature. She knew that
+there was a wealth of good sense behind those steady eyes.
+
+In response to a look from his mother, Horace got up and left the room.
+
+"Mary, dear," said the older woman, "don't you think you are making a
+mistake?"
+
+The girl turned away, one slim shoe tapping restlessly against the brass
+rail of the fireplace.
+
+"My dear," her mother went on, "remember I have known Robin Greve all
+his life. His father, the Admiral, was a very old friend of mine. He was
+the very personification of honour. Robin is very fond of you ... no, he
+has told me nothing, but I _know_. Don't you think it is rather hard on
+an old friend to turn him away just when you most want him?"
+
+There was a heightened colour in the girl's face as she turned and
+looked her mother in the face.
+
+"Robin has not behaved like a friend, Mother," she answered. "He knows
+more than he pretends about ... about this. And he lets me find out
+things from the servants when he ought to have told me himself. If he is
+suspected of having said something to Hartley which made him do this
+dreadful thing, he has only himself to thank. I _did_ try to shield
+him--before I knew. But I'm not going to do so any more. If he stays I
+shall have the police suspecting me all the time. And I owe something
+to Hartley ..."
+
+Her mother sighed a soft little sigh. She said nothing. She was a very
+wise woman.
+
+"Robin left me to go to the library ... I am sure of that ..." Mary went
+on breathlessly.
+
+"Why?" her mother asked.
+
+The girl hesitated.
+
+Then she said slowly:
+
+"You and I have always been good pals, Mother, so I may as well tell
+you. Robin had just asked me to marry him. So I told him I was engaged
+to Hartley. He went on in the most awful way, and said that I was
+selling myself and that I would not be the first girl that Hartley had
+kept ..."
+
+She broke off and raised her hands to her face. Then she put her elbows
+on the mantel-shelf and burst into tears.
+
+"Oh, it was hateful," she sobbed.
+
+Her mother put her arm round her soothingly.
+
+"Well, my dear," she said, "Robin was always fond of you, and I dare say
+it was a shock to him. When men feel like that about a girl they
+generally say things they don't mean ..."
+
+Mary Trevert straightened herself up and dropped her hands to her side.
+She faced her mother, the tear-drops glistening on her long lashes.
+
+"He meant it, every word of it. And he was perfectly right. I _was_
+selling myself, and you know I was, Mother. Do you think we can go on
+for ever like this, living on credit and dodging tradesmen? I meant to
+marry Hartley and stick to him. But I never thought ... I never
+guessed ... that Robin ..."
+
+"I know, my dear," her mother interposed, "I know. Perhaps it doesn't
+sound a very proper thing to say in the circumstances, but now that poor
+Hartley is gone, there is no reason whatsoever why you and Robin ..."
+
+The Treverts were a hot-tempered race. Lady Margaret's unfinished
+sentence seemed to infuriate the girl.
+
+"Do you think I'd marry Robin Greve as long as I thought he knew the
+mystery of Hartley's death!" she cried passionately. "I was willing to
+give up my self-respect once to save us from ruin, but I won't do it
+again. I'm not surprised to find you thinking I am ready to marry Robin
+and live happy ever after on poor Hartley's money. But I've not sunk so
+low as that! If you ever mention this to me again, Mother, I promise you
+I'll go away and never come back!"
+
+"My dear child," temporized Lady Margaret, eyebrows raised in protest
+at this outburst, "of course, it shall be as you wish. I only
+thought ..."
+
+But Mary Trevert was not listening. She leant on the mantel-shelf, her
+dark head in her hands, and she murmured:
+
+"The tragedy of it! My God, the tragedy of it!"
+
+Lady Margaret twisted the rings on her long white fingers.
+
+"The tragedy of it, my dear," she said, "is that you have sent away the
+man you love at a time when you will never need him so badly again ..."
+
+There was a discreet tapping at the door.
+
+"Come in!" said Lady Margaret.
+
+Bude appeared.
+
+"Mr. Manderton, the detective, my lady, was wishing to know whether he
+might see Miss Trevert ..."
+
+"Yes. Ask him to come up here," commanded Lady Margaret.
+
+"He is without--in the corridor, my lady!"
+
+He stepped back and in a moment Mr. Manderton stepped into the room,
+big, burly, and determined.
+
+He made a little stiff bow to the two ladies and halted irresolute near
+the door.
+
+"You wished to see my daughter, Mr. Manderton," said Lady Margaret.
+
+The detective bowed again.
+
+"And you, too, my lady," he said. "Allow me!"
+
+He closed the door, then crossed to the fireplace.
+
+"After I had seen you and Miss Trevert last night, my lady," he began,
+"I had a talk with Mr. Jeekes, Mr. Parrish's principal secretary, who
+came down by car from London as soon as he heard the news. My lady, I
+think this is a fairly simple case!"
+
+He paused and scanned the carpet.
+
+"Mr. Jeekes tells me, my lady," he went on presently, "that Mrs Fairish
+had been suffering from neurasthenia and a weak heart brought on by too
+much smoking. It appears that he had consulted, within the last two
+months, two leading specialists of Harley Street about his health. One
+of these gentlemen, Sir Winterton Maire, ordered him to knock off all
+work and all smoking for at least three months. He will give evidence to
+this effect at the inquest. Mr. Parrish disregarded these orders as he
+was wishful to put through his scheme for Hornaway's before taking a
+rest. Mr. Jeekes can prove that. In these circumstances, my lady...."
+
+"Well?"
+
+Lady Margaret, in her black cr�pe de chine dress, setting off the
+silvery whiteness of her hair, was a calm, unemotional figure as she sat
+in her lacquer chair.
+
+"Well?" she asked again.
+
+"Well," said the detective, "the verdict will be one of 'Suicide whilst
+of unsound mind,' and in my opinion the medical evidence will be
+sufficient to bring that in. There will not be occasion, I fancy, my
+lady, to probe any farther into the motives of Mr. Parrish's action...."
+
+"And are you personally satisfied"--Mary's voice broke in clear and
+unimpassioned--"are you personally satisfied, Mr. Manderton, that Mr.
+Parrish shot himself?"
+
+The detective cast an appealing glance at the tips of his well-burnished
+boots.
+
+"Yes, Miss, I think I may say I am...."
+
+"And what about the evidence of Bude, who said he heard voices in the
+library...."
+
+Mr. Manderton gave his shoulders the merest suspicion of a shrug, raised
+his hands, and dropped them to his sides.
+
+"I had hoped, my lady," he said, throwing a glance at Lady Margaret,
+"and you, Miss, that I had made it clear that in the circumstances we
+need not pursue that matter any further...."
+
+Lady Margaret rose. Her dominating personality seemed to fill the room.
+
+"We are extremely obliged to you, Mr. Manderton," she said, "for the
+able and discreet way in which you have handled this case. I sometimes
+meet the Chief Commissioner at dinner. I shall write to Sir Maurice and
+tell him my opinion."
+
+Mr. Manderton reddened a little.
+
+"Your ladyship is too good," he said.
+
+Lady Margaret bowed to signify that the interview was at an end. But
+Mary Trevert left her side and walked to the door.
+
+"Will you come downstairs with me, Mr. Manderton," she said. "I should
+like to speak to you alone for a minute!"
+
+She led the way downstairs through the hall and out into the drive. A
+pale sun shone down from a grey and rainy sky, and the damp breeze
+blowing from the sodden trees played among the ringlets of her dark
+hair.
+
+"We will walk down the drive," she said to the detective, who, rather
+astonished, had followed her. "We can talk freely out of doors."
+
+They took a dozen steps in silence. Then she said:
+
+"Who was it speaking to Mr. Parrish in the library?"
+
+"Undoubtedly Mr. Greve," replied the man without hesitation.
+
+"Why undoubtedly?" asked the girl.
+
+"It could have been no one else. We know that he left you hot to get at
+Mr. Parrish and have words with him. Bude heard them talking with voices
+raised aloud...."
+
+"But if the door were locked?"
+
+"Mr. Parrish may have opened it and locked it again, Mr. Greve getting
+out by the window. But there are no traces of that ... one would look to
+find marks on the paint on the inside. Besides, a little test we made
+this morning suggests that Mr. Greve spoke to Mr. Parrish through the
+window...."
+
+"Was the window open?"
+
+"Yes, Miss, it probably was. The fire had been smoking in the library.
+Mr. Parrish had complained to Bude about it. Besides, we have found Mr.
+Parrish's finger-prints on the inside of the window-frame. Outside we
+found other finger-prints ... Sir Horace's. Sir Horace was good enough
+to allow his to be taken."
+
+The girl looked at the detective quickly.
+
+"Were there any other finger-prints except Horace's on the outside?" she
+asked.
+
+Mr. Manderton shook his head.
+
+"No, Miss," he answered.
+
+They had reached the lodge-gates at the beginning of the drive and
+turned to retrace their steps to the house.
+
+"Then we shall never know exactly why Mr. Parrish did this thing?"
+hazarded Mary.
+
+Mr. Manderton darted her a surreptitious glance.
+
+"We shall see about that," he said.
+
+There was menace in his voice.
+
+Mary Trevert stopped. She put her hand on the detective's arm.
+
+"Mr. Manderton," she said, "if you are satisfied, then, believe me, I
+am!"
+
+The detective bowed.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he said,--and he spoke perfectly respectfully though his
+words were blunt,--"I can well believe that!"
+
+The girl looked up quickly. She scanned his face rather apprehensively.
+
+"What do you mean?" she asked, "I don't understand...."
+
+"I mean," was the detective's answer, given in his quiet, level voice,
+"that when you attempted to mislead Inspector Humphries you did nobody
+any good!"
+
+The girl bent her head without replying, and in silence they regained
+the house. At the house door they parted, Mary going indoors while the
+detective remained standing on the drive. Very deliberately he produced
+a short briar pipe, cut a stub of dark plug tobacco from a flat piece he
+carried in his pocket, crammed the tobacco into his pipe, and lit it.
+Reflectively he blew a thin spiral of smoke into the still air.
+
+"_He_ told me about that fat butler's evidence," he said to himself;
+"_he_ put me wise about that window being open; _he_ gave me the office
+about the paint on the finger-nails of Mr. H.P."
+
+He ticked off each point on his fingers with the stem of his pipe.
+
+"Why?" said Mr. Manderton aloud, addressing a laurel-bush.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+JEEKES
+
+Mr. Albert Edward Jeekes, Hartley Parrish's principal private secretary,
+lunched with Lady Margaret, Mary and Horace. Dr. Romain seemed not to
+have got over his embarrassment of the morning, for he did not put in an
+appearance.
+
+Mr. Jeekes was an old young man who supported bravely the weight of his
+Christian names, a reminder of his mother having occupied some small
+post in the household of Queen Victoria the Good. He might have been any
+age between 35 and 50 with his thin sandy hair, his myopic gaze, and his
+habitual expression of worried perplexity.
+
+He was a shorthand-writer and typist of incredible dexterity and speed
+which, combined with an unquenchable energy, had recommended him to
+Hartley Parrish. Accordingly, in consideration of a salary which he
+would have been the first to describe as "princely," he had during the
+past four years devoted some fifteen hours a day to the service of Mr.
+Hartley Parrish.
+
+He was unmarried. When not on duty, either at St. James's Square,
+Harkings, or Hartley Parrish's palatial offices in Broad Street, he was
+to be found at one of those immense and gloomy clubs of indiscriminate
+membership which are dotted about the parish of St. James's, S.W., and
+to which Mr. Jeekes was in the habit of referring in Early-Victorian
+accents of respect.
+
+"When I heard the news at the club, Miss Trevert," said Jeekes, "you
+could have knocked me down with a feather. Mr. Parrish, as all of us
+knew, worked himself a great deal too hard, sometimes not knocking off
+for his tea, even, and wore his nerves all to pieces. But I never
+dreamed it would come to this. Ah! he's a great loss, and what we shall
+do without him I don't know. There was a piece in one of the papers
+about him to-day--perhaps you saw it?--it called him 'one of the
+captains of industry of modern England.'"
+
+"You were always a great help to him, Mr. Jeekes," said Mary, who was
+touched by the little man's hero-worship; "I am sure you realized that
+he appreciated you."
+
+"Well," replied Mr. Jeekes, rubbing the palms of his hands together, "he
+did a great deal for _me_. Took me out of a City office where I was
+getting two pound five a week. That's what he did. It was a shipping
+firm. I tell you this because it has a bearing, Miss Trevert, on what
+is to follow. Why did he pick me? I'll tell you.
+
+"He was passing through the front office with one of our principals when
+he asked him, just casually, what Union Pacific stood at. The boss
+didn't know.
+
+"'A hundred and eighty-seven London parity,' says I. He turned round and
+looked at me. 'How do you know that?' says he, rather surprised, this
+being in a shipping office, you understand.
+
+"'I take an interest in the markets,' I replied. 'Do you?' he says.
+'Then you might do for me,' and tells me to come and see him."
+
+"I went. He made me an offer. When I heard the figure ... my word!"
+
+Mr. Jeekes paused. Then added sadly:
+
+"And I had meant to work for him to my dying day!"
+
+They were in the billiard-room seated on the selfsame settee, Mary
+reflected, on which she and Robin had sat--how long ago it seemed,
+though only yesterday! Mary had carried the secretary off after luncheon
+in order to unfold to him a plan which she had been turning over in her
+mind ever since her conversation with the detective.
+
+"And what are you going to do now, Mr. Jeekes?" she asked.
+
+The little man pursed up his lips.
+
+"Well," he said, "I'll have to get something else, I expect. I'm not
+expecting to find anything so good as I had with Mr. Parrish. And things
+are pretty crowded in the City, Miss Trevert, what with all the boys
+back from the war, God bless 'em, and glad we are to see 'em, I'm sure.
+I hope you'll realize, Miss Trevert, that anything I can do to help to
+put Mr. Parrish's affairs straight...."
+
+"I was just about to say," Mary broke in, "that I hope you will not
+contemplate any change, Mr. Jeekes. You know more about Mr. Parrish's
+affairs than anybody else, and I shall be very glad if you will stay on
+and help me. You know I have been left sole executrix...."
+
+"Miss Trevert,"--the little man stammered in his embarrassment,--"this
+is handsome of you. I surely thought you would have wished to make your
+own arrangements, appoint your own secretaries...."
+
+Mr. Jeekes broke off and looked at her, blinking hard.
+
+"Not at all," said Mary. "Everything shall be as it was. I am sure that
+Mr. Bardy will approve. Besides, Mr. Jeekes, I want your assistance in
+something else...."
+
+"Anything in my power...." began Jeekes.
+
+"Listen," said Mary.
+
+She was all her old self-composed self now, a charming figure in her
+plain blue serge suit with a white silken shirt and black tie--the best
+approach to mourning her wardrobe could afford. Already the short winter
+afternoon was drawing in. Mysterious shadows lurked in the corners of
+the long and narrow room.
+
+"Listen," said Mary, leaning forward. "I want to know why Mr. Parrish
+killed himself. I mean to know. And I want you, Mr. Jeekes, to help me
+to find out,"
+
+Something stirred ever so faintly in the remote recesses of the
+billiard-room. A loose board or something creaked softly and was silent.
+
+"What was that?" the girl called out sharply. "Who's there?"
+
+Mr. Jeekes got up and walked over to the door. It was ajar. He closed
+it.
+
+"Just a board creaking," he said as he resumed his seat.
+
+"I want your aid in finding out the motive for this terrible
+deed,"--Mary Trevert was speaking again,--"I can't understand.... I
+don't see clear...."
+
+"Miss Trevert," said Mr. Jeekes, clearing his throat fussily, "I fear we
+must look for the motive in the state of poor Mr. Parrish's nerves. An
+uncommonly high-strung man he always was, and he smoked those long
+black strong cigars of his from morning till night. Sir Winterton Maire
+told him flatly--Mr. Parrish, I recollect, repeated his very words to me
+after Sir Winterton had examined him--that, if he did not take a
+complete rest and give up smoking, he would not be answerable for the
+consequences. Therefore, Miss Trevert...."
+
+"Mr. Jeekes," answered the girl, "I knew Mr. Parrish pretty well. A
+woman, you know, gets to the heart of a man's character very often
+quicker than his daily associates in business. And I know that Mr.
+Parrish was the last man in the world to have done a thing like that. He
+was so ... so undaunted. He made nothing of difficulties. He relied
+wholly on himself. That was the secret of his success. For him to have
+killed himself like this makes me feel convinced that there was some
+hidden reason, far stronger, far more terrible, than any question of
+nerves...."
+
+Leaning forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, Mary Trevert
+raised her dark eyes to the little secretary's face.
+
+"Many men have a secret in their lives," she said in a low voice. "Do
+you know of anything in Mr. Parrish's life which an enemy might have
+made use of to drive him to his death?"
+
+Her manner was so intense that Mr. Jeekes quite lost his
+self-composure. He clutched at his _pince-nez_ and readjusted them upon
+his nose to cover his embarrassment. The secretary was not used to
+gazing at beautiful women whose expressive features showed as clearly as
+this the play of the emotions.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he said presently, "I know of no such secret. But then
+what do I--what does any one--know of Mr. Parrish's former life?"
+
+"We might make enquiries in South Africa?" ventured the girl.
+
+"I doubt if we should learn anything much through that," said the
+secretary. "Of course, Mr. Parrish had great responsibilities and
+responsibility means worry...."
+
+A silence fell on them both. From somewhere in the dark shadows above
+the fire glowing red through the falling twilight a clock chimed once.
+There was a faint rustling from the neighborhood of the door. Mr. Jeekes
+started violently. A coal dropped noisily into the fireplace.
+
+"There was something else," said Mary, ignoring the interruption, and
+paused. She did not look up when she spoke again.
+
+"There is often a woman in cases like this," she began reluctantly.
+
+Mr. Jeekes looked extremely uncomfortable.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he said, "I beg you will not press me on that
+score...."
+
+"Why?" asked the girl bluntly.
+
+"Because ... because"--Mr. Jeekes stumbled sadly over his
+words--"because, dear me, there are some things which really I couldn't
+possibly discuss ... if you'll excuse me...."
+
+"Oh, but you can discuss everything, Mr. Jeekes," replied Mary Trevert
+composedly. "I am not a child, you know. I am perfectly well aware that
+there's a woman somewhere in the life of every man, very often two or
+three. I haven't got any illusions on the subject, I assure you. I never
+supposed for a moment that I was the first woman in Mr. Parrish's
+life...."
+
+This candour seemed to administer a knock-out blow to the little
+secretary's Victorian mind. He was speechless. He took off his
+_pince-nez_, blindly polished them with his pocket-handkerchief and
+replaced them upon his nose. His fingers trembled violently.
+
+"I have no wish to appear vulgarly curious," the girl went on,--Mr.
+Jeekes made a quick gesture of dissent,--"but I am anxious to know
+whether Mr. Parrish was being blackmailed ... or anything like that...."
+
+"Oh, no, Miss Trevert, I do assure you," the little man expostulated in
+hasty denial, "nothing like that, I am convinced. At least, that is to
+say ..."
+
+He rose to his feet, clutching the little _attach�_ case which he
+invariably carried with him as a kind of emblem of office.
+
+"And now, if you'll excuse me, Miss Trevert," he muttered, "I should
+really be going. I am due at Mr. Bardy's office at five o'clock. He is
+coming up from the country specially to meet me. There is so much to
+discuss with regard to this terrible affair."
+
+He glanced at his watch.
+
+"With the roads as greasy as they are," he added, "it will take me all
+my time in the car to ..."
+
+He cast a panic-striken glance around him. But Mary Trevert held him
+fast.
+
+"You didn't finish what you were saying about Mr. Parrish, Mr. Jeekes,"
+she said impassively. The secretary made no sign. But he looked a trifle
+sullen.
+
+"I don't think you realize, Mr. Jeekes," she said, "that other people
+besides myself are keenly interested in the motives for Mr. Parrish's
+suicide. The police profess to be willing to accept the testimony of the
+specialists as satisfactory medical evidence about his state of mind.
+But I distrust that man, Manderton. He is not satisfied, Mr. Jeekes. He
+won't rest until he knows the truth."
+
+The secretary cast her a frightened glance.
+
+"But Mr. Manderton told me himself, Miss Trevert," he affirmed, "that
+the verdict would be, 'Suicide while temporarily insane,' on Sir
+Winterton Maire's evidence alone ..."
+
+Mary Trevert tapped the ground impatiently with her foot.
+
+"Manderton will get at the truth, I tell you," she said. "He's that kind
+of man. Do you want me to find out from them? At the inquest, perhaps?"
+
+The secretary put his _attach�_ case down on the lounge again.
+
+"Of course, that would be most improper, Miss Trevert," he said. "But
+your question embarrasses me. It embarrasses me very much ..."
+
+"What are you keeping back from me, Mr. Jeekes?" the girl demanded
+imperiously.
+
+The secretary mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. Then, as though
+with an effort, he spoke.
+
+"There is a lady, a French lady, who draws an income from Mr. Parrish ..."
+
+The girl remained impassive, but her eyes grew rather hard.
+
+"These payments are still going on?" she asked.
+
+Jeekes hesitated. Then he nodded,
+
+"Yes," he said.
+
+"Well? Was she blackmailing ... him?"
+
+"No, no," Mr. Jeekes averred hastily. "But there was some unpleasantness
+some months ago ... er ... a county court action, to be precise, about
+some bills she owed. Mr. Parrish was very angry about it and settled to
+prevent it coming into court. But there was some talk about it ... in
+legal circles ..."
+
+He threw a rather scared glance at the girl.
+
+"Please explain yourself, Mr. Jeekes," she said coldly. "I don't
+understand ..."
+
+"Her lawyer was Le Hagen--it's a shady firm with a big criminal
+practice. They sometimes brief Mr. Greve ..."
+
+Mary Trevert clasped and unclasped her hands quickly.
+
+"I quite understand, Mr. Jeekes," she said. "You needn't say any more ..."
+
+She turned away in a manner that implied dismissal. It was as though she
+had forgotten the secretary's existence. He picked up his _attach�_ case
+and walked slowly to the door.
+
+A sharp exclamation broke from his lips.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he cried, "the door ... I shut it a little while
+back ... look, it's ajar!"
+
+The girl who stood at the fire switched on the electric light by the
+mantelpiece.
+
+"Is ... is ... the door defective? Doesn't it shut properly?"
+
+The little secretary forced out the questions in an agitated voice.
+
+The girl walked across the room and shut the door. It closed perfectly,
+a piece of solid, well-fitting oak.
+
+"What does it mean?" said Mr. Jeekes in a whisper. "You understand, I
+should not wish what I told you just now about Mr. Parrish to be
+overheard ..."
+
+They opened the door again. The dusky corridor was empty.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+A SHEET OF BLUE PAPER
+
+The sight of that crumpled ball of slatey-blue paper brought back to
+Robin's mind with astonishing vividness every detail of the scene in the
+library. Once more he looked into Hartley Parrish's staring, unseeing
+eyes, saw the firelight gleam again on the heavy gold signet ring on the
+dead man's hand, the tag of the dead man's bootlace as it trailed from
+one sprawling foot across the carpet. Once more he felt the dark cloud
+of the mystery envelop him as a mist and with a little sigh he smoothed
+out the crumpled paper.
+
+It was an ordinary quarto sheet of stoutish paper, with a glazed
+surface, of an unusual shade of blue, darker than what the stationers
+call "azure," yet lighter than legal blue. At the top right-hand corner
+was typewritten a date: "Nov. 25." Otherwise the sheet was blank.
+
+The curious thing about it was that a number of rectangular slits had
+been cut in the paper. Robin counted them. There were seven. They were
+of varying sizes, the largest a little over an inch, the smallest not
+more than a quarter of an inch, in length. In depth they measured about
+an eighth of an inch.
+
+Robin stared at the paper uncomprehendingly. He remembered perfectly
+where he had found it on the floor of the library at Harkings, between
+the dead body and the waste-paper basket. The basket, he recalled, stood
+out in the open just clear of the desk on the left-hand side. From the
+position in which it was lying the ball of paper might have been aimed
+for the waste-paper basket and, missing it, have fallen on the carpet.
+
+Robin turned the sheet over. The back was blank. Then he held the paper
+up to the light. Yes, there was a water-mark. Now it was easily
+discernible. "EGMONT FF. QU." he made out.
+
+The train was slowing down. Robin glanced out of the window and saw that
+they were crossing the river in the mirky gloom of a London winter
+Sunday. He balanced the sheet of paper in his hands for a moment. Then
+he folded it carefully into four and stowed it away in his
+cigarette-case. The next moment the train thumped its way into Charing
+Cross.
+
+A taxi deposited him at the Middle Temple Gate. He walked the short
+distance to the set of chambers he occupied. On his front door a piece
+of paper was pinned. By the rambling calligraphy and the phonetic
+English he recognized the hand of his "laundress."
+
+  Dere sir [it ran], mr rite call he want to see u
+  pertikler i tole im as you was in country & give im ur
+  adress hope i dun rite mrs bragg
+
+Robin had scarcely got his key in the door of his "oak" when there was a
+step on the stair. A nice-looking young man with close-cropped fair hair
+appeared round the turn of the staircase.
+
+"Hullo, Robin," he exclaimed impetuously, "I _am_ glad to have caught
+you like this. Your woman gave me your address, so I rang up Harkings at
+once and they told me you had just gone back to town. So I came straight
+here. You remember me, don't you? Bruce Wright ... But perhaps I'm
+butting in. If you'd rather see me some other time...."
+
+"My dear boy," said Robin, motioning him into the flat, "of course I
+remember you. Only I didn't recognize you just for the minute. Shove
+your hat down here in the hall. And as for butting in,"--he threw open
+the door of the living-room,--"why! I think there is no other man in
+England I would so gladly see at this very moment as yourself."
+
+The living-room was a bright and cheery place, tastefully furnished in
+old oak with gay chintz curtains. It looked out on an old-world paved
+court in the centre of which stood a solitary soot-laden plane-tree.
+
+"What's this rot about Parrish having committed suicide?" demanded the
+boy abruptly.
+
+Robin gave him in the briefest terms an outline of the tragedy.
+
+"Poor old H.P., eh?" mused young Wright; "who'd have thought it?"
+
+"But the idea of suicide is preposterous," he broke out suddenly. "I
+knew Parrish probably better than anybody. He would never have done a
+thing like that. It must have been an accident...."
+
+Robin shook his head.
+
+"That possibility is ruled out by the medical evidence," he said, and
+stopped short.
+
+Bruce Wright, who had been pacing up and down the room, halted in front
+of the barrister.
+
+"I tell you that Parrish was not the man to commit suicide. Nothing
+would have even forced him to take his own life. You know, I was working
+with him as his personal secretary every day for more than two years,
+and I am sure!"
+
+He resumed his pacing up and down the room.
+
+"Has it ever occurred to you, Robin," he said presently, "that
+practically nothing is known of H.P.'s antecedents? For instance, do you
+know where he was born?"
+
+"I understand he was a Canadian," replied Robin with a shrewd glance at
+the flushed face of the boy.
+
+"He's lived in Canada," said Wright, "but originally he was a Cockney,
+from the London slums. And I believe I am the only person who knows
+that...."
+
+Robin pushed an armchair at his companion.
+
+"Sit down and tell me about it," he commanded.
+
+The boy dropped into the chair.
+
+"It was after I had been only a few months with him," he began, "shortly
+after I was discharged from the army with that lung wound of mine. We
+were driving back in the car from some munition works near Baling, and
+the chauffeur took a wrong turning near Wormwood Scrubs and got into a
+maze of dirty streets round there...."
+
+"I know," commented Robin, "Notting Dale, they call it...."
+
+"H.P. wasn't noticing much," Wright went on, "as he was dictating
+letters to me,--we used to do a lot of work in the Rolls-Royce in those
+rush days,--but, directly he noticed that the chauffeur was uncertain of
+the road, he shoved his head out of the window and put him right at
+once. I suppose I seemed surprised at his knowing his way about those
+parts, for he laughed at me and said: 'I was born and brought up down
+here, Bruce, in a little greengrocer's shop just off the Latimer Road.'
+I said nothing because I didn't want to interrupt his train of thought.
+He had never talked to me or Jeekes or any of us like that before.
+
+"'By Gad,' he went on, 'how the smell of the place brings back those
+days to me--the smell of decayed fruit, of stale fish, of dirt! Why, it
+seems like yesterday that Victor Marbran and I used to drive round
+uncle's cart with vegetables and coal. What a life to escape from,
+Bruce, my boy! Gad, you can count yourself lucky!'
+
+"He was like a man talking to himself. I asked him how he had broken
+away from it all. At that he laughed, a bitter, hard sort of laugh. 'By
+having the guts to break away from it, boy,' he said. 'It was I who made
+Victor Marbran come away with me. We worked our passages out to the Cape
+and made our way up-country to Matabeleland. That was in the early days
+of Rhodes and Barney Barnato--long before I went to Canada. I made
+Victor's fortune for him and mine as well. But I made more than Victor
+and he never forgave me. He'd do me a bad turn if he could ...'
+
+"Then he broke off short and went on with his dictating ..."
+
+"Did he ever come back to this phase of his life?"
+
+"Only when we got out of the car that morning. He said to me: 'Forget
+what I told you to-day, young fellow. Never rake up a man's past!' And
+he never mentioned the subject again. Of course, I didn't either ..."
+
+Stretched full length in his chair, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, Robin
+remained lost in thought.
+
+"The conversation came back to me to-day," said the boy, "when I read of
+Parrish's death. And I wondered ..."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Whether the secret of his death may not be found somewhere in his
+adventurous past. You see he said that Victor Marbran was an enemy. Then
+there was something else. I never told you--when you took all that
+trouble to get me another job after Parrish had sacked me--the exact
+reason for my dismissal. You never asked me either. That was decent of
+you, Robin ..."
+
+"I liked you, Bruce," said Robin shortly.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you now," he said. "When I joined H.P.'s staff after I
+got out of the Army, I was put under old Jeekes, of course, to learn the
+work. One of the first injunctions he gave me was with regard to Mr.
+Parrish's letters. I suppose you know more or less how secretaries of a
+big business man like Hartley Parrish work. They open all letters, lay
+the important ones before the big man for him to deal with personally,
+make a digest of the others or deal with them direct ..."
+
+Robin nodded.
+
+"Well," the boy resumed, "the first thing old Jeekes told me was that
+letters arriving in a blue envelope and marked 'Personal' were never to
+be opened ..."
+
+"In a blue envelope?" echoed Robin quickly.
+
+"Yes, a particular kind of blue--a sort of slatey-blue--Jeekes showed me
+one as a guide. Well, these letters were to be handed to Mr. Parrish
+unopened."
+
+Robin had stood up.
+
+"That's odd," he said, diving in his pocket.
+
+"I say, hold on a bit," protested the boy, "this is really rather
+important what I am telling you. I'll never finish if you keep on
+interrupting."
+
+"Sorry, Bruce," said Robin, and sat down again.
+
+But he began to play restlessly with his cigarette case which he had
+drawn from his pocket.
+
+"Well, of course," Bruce resumed, "I wasn't much of a private secretary
+really, and one day I forgot all about this injunction. Some days old
+H.P. got as many as three hundred letters. I was alone at Harkings with
+him, I remember, Jeekes was up at Sheffield and the other secretaries
+were away ill or something, and in the rush of dealing with this
+enormous mail I slit one of these blue envelopes open with the rest. I
+discovered what I had done only after I had got all the letters sorted
+out, this one with the rest. So I went straight to old H.P. and told
+him. By Jove!"
+
+"What happened?" said Robin.
+
+"He got into the most paralytic rage," said Bruce. "I have never seen a
+man in such an absolute frenzy of passion. He went right off the hooks,
+just like that! He fairly put the wind up me. For a minute I thought he
+was going to kill me. He snatched the letter out of my hand, called me
+every name under the sun, and finally shouted: 'You're fired, d'ye hear?
+I won't employ men who disobey my orders! Get out of this before I do
+you a mischief! I went straight off. And I never saw him again ..."
+
+Robin Greve looked very serious. But his face displayed no emotion as he
+asked:
+
+"And what was in the letter for him to make such a fuss about?"
+
+The boy shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"That was the extraordinary part of it. The letter was perfectly
+harmless. It was an ordinary business letter from a firm in Holland ..."
+
+"In Holland?" cried Greve. "Did you say in Holland? Tell me the name!
+No, wait, see if I can remember. 'Van' something--'Speck' or 'Spike' ..."
+
+"I remember the name perfectly," answered Bruce, rather puzzled by the
+other's sudden outburst; "it was Van der Spyck and Co. of Rotterdam. We
+had a good deal of correspondence with them ..."
+
+Robin Greve had opened his cigarette-case and drawn from it a creased
+square of blue paper folded twice across. Unfolding it, he held up the
+sheet he had found in the library at Harkings.
+
+"Is that the paper those letters were written on?" he asked.
+
+Bruce took the sheet from him. He held it up to the light.
+
+"Why, yes," came the prompt answer. "I'd know it in a minute. Look, it's
+the same water-mark. 'Egmont.' Where did you get hold of it?"
+
+"Bruce," said Robin gravely, without answering the question, "we're
+getting into deep water, boy!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+SHADOWS
+
+Robert Greve stood for an instant in silence by the window of his rooms.
+His fingers hammered out a tattoo on the pane. His eyes were fixed on
+the windows of the chambers across the court. But they did not take in
+the pleasant prospect of the tall, ivy-framed casements in their mellow
+setting of warm red brick. He was trying to fix a mental photograph of a
+letter--typewritten on paper of dark slatey blue--which he had seen on
+Hartley Parrish's desk in the library at Harkings on the previous
+afternoon.
+
+Prompted by Bruce Wright, he could now recall the heading clearly.
+"ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & Co., GENERAL IMPORTERS, ROTTERDAM," stood printed
+before his eyes as plainly as though he still held the typewritten sheet
+in front of him. But the mind plays curious tricks. Robin's brain had
+registered the name; yet it recorded no impression of the contents of
+the letter. Beyond the fact that it dealt in plain commercial fashion
+with some shipments or other, he could recall no particular whatever of
+it.
+
+"But where did you get hold of this sheet of paper?" Bruce Wright's
+voice broke in impatiently behind him. "I'm most frightfully interested
+to know ..."
+
+"Found it on the floor beside Parrish's body," answered Robin briefly.
+"There was a letter, too, on the same paper ..."
+
+"By Gad!" exclaimed the boy eagerly, "have you got that too?"
+
+Robin shook his head.
+
+"It was only your story that made me think of it. I had the letter. But
+I left it where I found it--on Parrish's desk in the library ..."
+
+"But you read it ... you know what was in it?"
+
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"It was a perfectly straightforward business letter ... something about
+steel shipments ... I don't remember any more ..."
+
+"A straightforward business letter," commented the boy. "Like the letter
+I read, eh?..."
+
+"Tell me, Bruce," said Robin, after a moment's silence, "during the time
+you were with Hartley Parrish, I suppose these blue letters came pretty
+often?"
+
+Young Wright wrinkled his brow in thought.
+
+"It's rather difficult to say. You see, there were three of us besides
+old Jeekes, and, of course, these letters might have come without my
+knowledge anything about it. But during the seven months I worked with
+H.P. I suppose about half a dozen of these letters passed through my
+hands. They used to worry H.P., you know, Robin ..."
+
+"Worry him?" exclaimed Robin sharply; "how do you mean?"
+
+"Well," said Bruce, "Parrish was a very easygoing fellow, you know. He
+worked every one--himself included--like the devil, of course. But he
+was hardly ever nervy or grumpy. And so I was a bit surprised to
+find--after I had been with him for a time--that every now and then he
+sort of shrivelled up. He used to look ... well, careworn and ... and
+haggard. And at these times he was pretty short with all of us. It was
+such an extraordinary change from his usual cheery, optimistic self that
+sometimes I suspected him of dope or some horror like that ..."
+
+Robin shook his head. He had a sudden vision of Hartley Parrish, one of
+his long, black Partagas thrust at an aggressive angle from a corner of
+his mouth, virile, battling, strong.
+
+"Oh, no," he said, "not dope ..."
+
+"No, no, I know," the boy went on quickly. "It wasn't dope. It was
+fear ..."
+
+Robin swung round from the window.
+
+"Fear? Fear of what?"
+
+The boy cast a frightened glance over his shoulder rather as if he
+fancied he might be overheard.
+
+"Of those letters," he replied. "I am sure it was that. I watched him
+and ... and I _know_. Every time he got one of those letters in the
+bluish envelopes, these curious fits of gloom came over him. Robin ..."
+
+"What, Bruce?"
+
+"I think he was being blackmailed!"
+
+The barrister nodded thoughtfully.
+
+"Don't you agree?"
+
+The boy awaited his answer eagerly.
+
+"Something very like that," replied the other.
+
+Then suddenly he smashed his fist into the open palm of his other hand.
+
+"But he wouldn't have taken it lying down!" he cried. "Hartley Parrish
+was a fighter, Bruce. Did you ever know a man who could best him? No,
+no, it won't fit! Besides ..."
+
+He broke off and thought for an instant.
+
+"We must get that letter from Harkings," he said presently. "Jeekes will
+have it. We can do nothing until ..."
+
+His voice died away. Bruce, sunk in one of the big leather armchairs,
+was astonished to see him slip quickly away from the window and ensconce
+himself behind one of the chintz curtains.
+
+"Here, Bruce," Robin called softly across the room. "Just come here.
+But take care not to show yourself. Look out, keep behind the curtain
+and here ... peep out through this chink!"
+
+Young Wright peered through a narrow slit between the curtain and the
+window-frame. In the far corner of the courtyard beneath the windows,
+where a short round iron post marked a narrow passage leading to the
+adjoining court, a man was standing. He wore a shabby suit and a blue
+handkerchief knotted about his neck served him as a substitute for the
+more conventional collar and tie. His body was more than half concealed
+by the side of the house along which the passage ran. But his face was
+clearly distinguishable--a peaky, thin face, the upper part in the
+shadow of the peak of a discoloured tweed cap.
+
+"He's been there on and off all the time we've been talking," said
+Robin. "I wasn't sure at first. But now I'm certain. He's watching these
+windows! Look!"
+
+Briskly the watcher's head was withdrawn to emerge again, slowly and
+cautiously, in a little while.
+
+"But who is he? What does he want?" asked Bruce.
+
+"I haven't an idea," retorted Robin Greve. "But I could guess. Tell me,
+Bruce," he went on, stepping back from the window and motioning the boy
+to do the same, "did you notice anybody following you when you came
+here?"
+
+Bruce shook his head.
+
+"I'm pretty sure nobody did. You see, I came in from the Strand, down
+Middle Temple Lane. Once service has started at Temple Church there's
+not a mouse stirring in the Inn till the church is out. I think I should
+have noticed if any one had followed me up to your chambers ..."
+
+Robin set his chin squarely.
+
+"Then he came after me," he said. "Bruce, you'll have to go to Harkings
+and get that letter!"
+
+"By all means," answered the boy. "But, I say, they won't much like me
+butting in, will they?"
+
+"You'll have to say you came down to offer your sympathy, ... volunteer
+your services ... oh, anything. But you _must_ get that letter! Do you
+understand, Bruce? _You must get that letter_--if you have to steal
+it!"
+
+The boy gave a long whistle.
+
+"That's rather a tall order, isn't it?" he said.
+
+Robin nodded. His face was very grave.
+
+"Yes," he said presently, "I suppose it is. But there is something ...
+something horrible behind this case, Bruce, something dark and..and
+mysterious. And I mean to get to the bottom of it. With your help. Or
+alone!"
+
+Bruce put his hand impulsively on the other's arm.
+
+"You can count on me, you know," he said. "But don't you think ..."
+
+He broke off shyly.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Don't you think you'd better tell me what you know. And what you
+suspect!"
+
+Robin hesitated.
+
+"Yes," he said, "that's fair. I suppose I ought. But there's not much to
+tell, Bruce. Just before Hartley Parrish was found dead, I asked Miss
+Trevert to marry me. I was too late. She was already engaged to Hartley
+Parrish. I was horrified ... I know some things about Parrish ... we had
+words and I went off. Five minutes later Miss Trevert went to fetch
+Parrish in to tea and heard a shot behind the locked door of the
+library. Horace Trevert got in through the window and found Parrish
+dead. Every one down at Harkings believes that I went in and threatened
+Parrish so that he committed suicide ..."
+
+"Whom do you mean by every one?"
+
+Robin laughed drily. "Mary Trevert, her mother, Horace Trevert ..."
+
+"The police, too?"
+
+"Certainly. The police more than anybody!"
+
+"By Jove!" commented the boy.
+
+"You ask me what I suspect," Robin continued. "I admit I have no
+positive proof. But I suspect that Hartley Parrish did not die by his
+own hand!"
+
+Bruce Wright looked up with a startled expression on his face.
+
+"You mean that he was murdered?"
+
+"I do!"
+
+"But how? Why?"
+
+Then Robin told him of the experiment in the library, of the open window
+and of the bullet mark he had discovered in the rosery.
+
+"What I want to know," he said, "and what I am determined to find out
+beyond any possible doubt, is whether the bullet found in Hartley
+Parrish's body was fired from _his_ pistol. But before we reach that
+point we have to explain how it happened that only one shot was heard
+and how a bullet which _apparently_ came from Parrish's pistol was found
+in his body ..."
+
+"If Mr. Parrish was murdered, the murderer might have turned the gun
+round in Parrish's hand and forced him to shoot himself ..."
+
+"Hardly," said Robin. "Remember, Mary Trevert was at the door when the
+shot was fired. Your theory presupposes the employment of force, in
+other words, a struggle. Miss Trevert heard no scuffling. No, I've
+thought of that.. it won't do ..."
+
+"Have you any suspicion of who the murderer might be?"
+
+Robin shook his head decidedly.
+
+"Not a shadow of an idea," he affirmed positively. "But I have a notion
+that we shall find a clue in this letter which, like a blithering fool,
+I left on Parrish's desk. It's the first glimmer of hope I've seen yet ..."
+
+Bruce Wright squared his shoulders and threw his head back.
+
+"I'll get it for you," he said.
+
+"Good boy," said Robin. "But, Bruce," he went on, "you'll have to go
+carefully. My name is mud in that house. You mustn't say you come from
+me. And if you ask boldly for the letter, they won't give it to you.
+Jeekes might, if he's there and you approach him cautiously. But, for
+Heaven's sake, don't try any diplomacy on Manderton ... that's the
+Scotland Yard man. He's as wary as a fox and sharp as needles."
+
+Bruce Wright buttoned up his coat with an air of finality.
+
+"Leave it to me," he said, "I know Harkings like my pocket. Besides I've
+got a friend there ..."
+
+"Who might that be?" queried the barrister.
+
+"Bude," answered the boy and laid a finger on his lips.
+
+"But," he pursued, jerking his head in the direction of the window,
+"what are we going to do about him out there?"
+
+Robin laughed.
+
+"Him?" he said. "Oh, I'm going to take him out for an airing!"
+
+Robin stepped out into the hall. He returned wearing his hat and
+overcoat. In his hand were two yale keys strung on a wisp of pink tape.
+
+"Listen, Bruce," he said. "Give me ten minutes' start to get rid of this
+jackal. Then clear out. There's a train to Stevenish at 3.23. If you get
+on the Underground at the Temple you ought to be able to make it easily.
+Here are the keys of the chambers. I can put you up here to-night if you
+like. I'll expect you when I see you ... with that letter. Savvy?"
+
+The boy stood up.
+
+"You'll have that letter to-night," he answered. "But in the
+meantime,"--he waved the blue sheet with its mysterious slots at
+Robin,--"what do you make of this?"
+
+Robin took the sheet of paper from him and replaced it in his
+cigarette-case.
+
+"Perhaps, when we have the letter," he replied, "I shall be able to
+answer that question!"
+
+Then he lit a cigarette, gave the boy his hand, and a minute later Bruce
+Wright, watching through the chink of the curtain from the window of
+Robin Greve's chambers, saw a lanky form shuffle across the court and
+follow Robin round the angle of the house.
+
+Robin strode quickly through the maze of narrow passages and tranquil,
+echoing courts into the Sabbath stillness of the Strand. An occasional
+halt at a shop-window was sufficient to assure him that the watcher of
+the Temple was still on his heels. The man, he was interested to see,
+played his part very unobtrusively, shambling along in nonchalant
+fashion, mostly hugging the sides of the houses, ready to dart out of
+sight into a doorway or down a side turning, should he by any mischance
+arrive too close on the heels of his quarry.
+
+As he walked along, Robin turned over in his mind the best means for
+getting rid of his shadow. Should he dive into a Tube station and plunge
+headlong down the steps? He rejected this idea as calculated to let the
+tracker know that his presence was suspected. Then he reviewed in his
+mind the various establishments he knew of in London with double
+entrances, thinking that he might slip in by the one entrance and
+emerge by the other.
+
+In Pall Mall he came upon Tony Grandell, whom he had last seen playing
+bridge in the company dugout on the Flesquieres Kidge. Then he had been
+in "battle order," camouflaged as a private soldier, as officers were
+ordered to go over the top in the latter phases of the war. Now he was
+resplendent in what the invitation cards call "Morning Dress" crowned by
+what must certainly have been the most relucent top-hat in London.
+
+"Hullo, hullo, hullo!" cried Tony, on catching sight of him; "stand to
+your kits and so forth! And how is my merry company commander? Robin,
+dear, come and relieve the medieval gloom of lunch with my aunt at
+Mart's!"
+
+He linked his arm affectionately in Robin's.
+
+Mart's! Robin's brain snatched at the word. Mart's! most respectable of
+"family hotels," wedged in between two quiet streets off Piccadilly with
+an entrance from both. If ever a man wanted to dodge a sleuth,
+especially a grimy tatterdemalion like the one sidling up Pall Mall
+behind them ...
+
+"Tony, old son," said Robin, "I won't lunch with you even to set the
+board in a roar at your aunt's luncheon-party. But I'll walk up to
+Mart's with you, for I'm going there myself ..."
+
+They entered Mart's together and parted in the vestibule, where Tony
+gravely informed his "dear old scream" that he must fly to his
+"avuncular luncheon." Robin walked quickly through the hotel and left by
+the other entrance. The street was almost deserted. Of the man with the
+dingy neckerchief there was no sign. Robin hurried into Piccadilly and
+hopped on a 'bus which put him down at his club facing the Green Park.
+
+He had a late lunch there and afterwards took a taxi back to the Temple.
+The daylight was failing as he crossed the courtyard in front of his
+chambers. In the centre the smoke-blackened plane-tree throned it in
+unchallenged solitude. But, as Robin's footsteps echoed across the
+flags, something more substantial than a shadow seemed to melt into the
+gathering dusk in the corner where the narrow passage ran.
+
+Robin stopped to listen at the entrance to his chambers. As he stood
+there he heard a heavy tread on the stone steps within. He turned to
+face a solidly built swarthy-looking man who emerged from the building.
+
+He favoured Robin with a leisurely, searching stare, then strode heavily
+across the courtyard to the little passage where he disappeared from
+view.
+
+Robin looked after him. The man was a stranger: the occupants of the
+other chambers were all known to him. With a thoughtful expression on
+his face Robin entered the house and mounted to his rooms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+THE INTRUDER
+
+"D----!" exclaimed Bruce Wright.
+
+He stood in the great porch at Harkings, his finger on the electric
+bell. No sound came in response to the pressure, nor any one to open the
+door. Thus he had stood for fully ten minutes listening in vain for any
+sound within the house. All was still as death. He began to think that
+the bell was out of order. He had forgotten Hartley Parrish's insistence
+on quiet. All bells at Harkings rang, discreetly muted, in the servants'
+hall.
+
+He stepped out of the porch on to the drive. The weather had improved
+and, under a freshening wind, the country was drying up. As he reached
+the hard gravel, he heard footsteps, Bude appeared, his collar turned
+up, his swallow-tails floating in the wind.
+
+"Now, be off with you!" he cried as soon as he caught sight of the trim
+figure in the grey overcoat; "how many more of ye have I to tell there's
+nothing for you to get here! Go on, get out before I put the dog on
+you!"
+
+He waved an imperious hand at Bruce.
+
+"Hullo, Bude," said the boy, "you've grown very inhospitable all of a
+sudden!"
+
+"God bless my soul if it isn't young Mr. Wright!" exclaimed the butler.
+"And I thought it was another of those dratted reporters. It's been
+ring, ring, ring the whole blessed morning, sir, you can believe me, as
+if they owned the place, wanting to interview me and Mr. Jeekes and Miss
+Trevert and the Lord knows who else. Lot of interfering busybodies, _I_
+call 'em! I'd shut up all noospapers by law if I had my way ..."
+
+"Is Mr. Jeekes here, Bude?" asked Bruce.
+
+"He's gone off to London in the car, sir ... But won't you come in, Mr.
+Wright? If you wouldn't mind coming in by the side door. I have to keep
+the front door closed to shut them scribbling fellows out. One of them
+had the face to ask me to let him into the library to take a
+photograph ..."
+
+He led the way round the side of the house to the glass door in the
+library corridor.
+
+"This is a sad business, Bude!" said Bruce.
+
+"Ah, indeed, it is, sir," he sighed. "He had his faults had Mr. Parrish,
+as well _you_ know, Mr. Wright. But he was an open-handed gentleman,
+that I will say, and we'll all miss him at Harkings ..."
+
+They were now in the corridor. Bude jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
+
+"It was in there they found him," he said in a low voice, "with a hole
+plumb over the heart."
+
+His voice sank to a whisper. "There's blood on the carpet!" he added
+impressively.
+
+"I should like just to take a peep at the room, Bude," ventured the boy,
+casting a sidelong glance at the butler.
+
+"Can't be done, sir," said Bude, shaking his head; "orders of
+Detective-Inspector Manderton. The police is very strict, Mr. Wright,
+sir!"
+
+"There seems to be no one around just now, Bude," the young man
+wheedled. "There can't be any harm in my just going in for a second?..."
+
+"Go in you should, Mr. Wright, sir," said the butler genially, "if I had
+my way. But the door's locked. And, what's more, the police have the
+key."
+
+"Is the detective anywhere about?" asked Bruce.
+
+"No, sir," answered Bude. "He's gone off to town, too! And he don't
+expect to be back before the inquest. That's for Toosday!"
+
+"But isn't there another key anywhere?" persisted the boy.
+
+"No, sir," said Bude positively, "there isn't but the one. And that's
+in Mr. Manderton's vest pocket!"
+
+Young Wright wrinkled his brow in perplexity. He was very young, but he
+had a fine strain of perseverance in him. He was not nearly at the end
+of his resources, he told himself.
+
+"Well, then," he said suddenly, "I'm going outside to have a look
+through the window. I remember you can see into the library from the
+path round the house!"
+
+He darted out, the butler, protesting, lumbering along behind him.
+
+"Mr. Wright," he panted as he ran, "you didn't reelly ought ... If any
+one should come ..."
+
+But Bruce Wright was already at the window. The butler found him leaning
+on the sill, peering with an air of frightened curiosity into the empty
+room.
+
+"The glazier from Stevenish"--Bude's voice breathed the words hoarsely
+in Wright's ear--"is coming to-morrow morning to put the window in. He
+wouldn't come to-day, him being a chapel-goer and religious. It was
+there we found poor Mr. Parrish--d'you see, sir, just between the window
+and the desk!"
+
+But Bruce Wright did not heed him. His eyes were fixed on the big
+writing-desk, on the line of black japanned letter-trays set out in
+orderly array. Outside, the short winter afternoon was drawing in fast,
+and the light was failing. Dusky shadows within the library made it
+difficult to distinguish objects clearly.
+
+A voice close at hand cried out sharply:
+
+"Mr. Bude! Mr. Bu-u-ude!"
+
+"They're calling me!" whispered the butler in his ear with a tug at his
+sleeve; "come away, sir!"
+
+But Bruce shook him off. He heard the man's heavy tread on the gravel,
+then a door slam.
+
+How dark the room was growing, to be sure! Strain his eyes as he might,
+he could not get a clear view of the contents of the letter-trays on the
+desk. But their high backs hid their contents from his eyes. Even when
+he hoisted himself on to the window-sill he could not get a better view.
+
+He dropped back on to the gravel path and listened. The wind soughed
+sadly in the bare tree-tops, somewhere in the distance a dog barked
+hoarsely, insistently; otherwise not a sound was to be heard. He cast a
+cautious glance round the side of the house. The glass door was shut;
+the lamp in the corridor had not been lit.
+
+Hoisting himself up to the window-sill again, he crooked one knee on the
+rough edge and thrusting one arm through the broken pane of glass,
+unbolted the window. Then, steadying himself with one hand, with the
+other he very gently pushed up the window, threw his legs across the
+sill, and dropped into the library. Very deliberately, he turned and
+pushed the window softly down behind him.
+
+Some unconscious prompting, perhaps an unfamiliar surface beneath his
+feet, made him look down. Where his feet rested on the mole-grey carpet
+a wide dark patch stood out from the delicate shade of the rug. For a
+moment a spasm of physical nausea caught him.
+
+"How beastly!" he whispered to himself and took a step towards the desk.
+
+Hartley Parrish's desk was arranged just as he always remembered it to
+have been. All the letter-trays save one were empty. In that was a
+little pile of papers held down by a massive marble paper-weight.
+Quickly he stepped round the desk.
+
+He had put out his hand to lift the weight when there was a gentle
+rattle at the door.
+
+Bruce Wright wheeled instantly round, back to the desk, to face the
+door, which, in the gathering dusk, was now but a squarer patch of
+darkness among the shadows at the far end of the library. He stood
+absolutely still, rooted to the spot, his heart thumping so fast that,
+in that silent room, he could hear the rapid beats.
+
+Some one was unlocking the library door. As realization came to the
+boy, he tiptoed rapidly round the desk, the sound of his feet muffled by
+the heavy pile carpet, and reached the window. There was a click as the
+lock of the door was shot back. Without further hesitation Bruce stepped
+behind the long curtains which fell from the top of the window to the
+floor.
+
+The curtains, of some heavy grey material, were quite opaque. Bruce
+realized, with a sinking heart, that he must depend on his ears to
+discover the identity of this mysterious interloper. He dared not look
+out from his hiding-place--at least not until he could be sure that the
+newcomer had his back to the window. He remained, rigid and vigilant,
+straining his ears to catch the slightest sound, scarcely daring to
+breathe.
+
+He heard the door open, heard it softly close again. Then ... silence.
+Not another sound. The boy remembered the heavy pile carpet and cursed
+his luck. He would have to risk a peep round the curtains. But not yet!
+He must wait ...
+
+A very slight rustling, a faint prolonged rustling, caught his ear. It
+came nearer, then stopped. There was a little rattling noise from
+somewhere close at hand, a small clinking sound.
+
+Then silence fell again.
+
+The wind whooshed sadly round the house, the window clattered dismally
+in its frame, the curtains tugged fretfully before the cold breeze which
+blew in at the broken pane. But the silence in the room was absolute.
+
+It began to oppress the boy. It frightened him. He felt an
+uncontrollable desire to look out into the room and establish the
+identity of the mysterious entrant. He glided his hand towards the
+window-frame in the hope that he might find a chink between curtain and
+wall through which he might risk a peep into the room. But the curtain
+was fastened to the wall.
+
+The room was almost entirely dark now. Only behind him was a patch of
+grey light where the lowering evening sky was framed in the window. He
+began to draw the curtain very slowly towards him, at the same time
+leaning to the right. Very cautiously he applied one eye to the edge of
+the curtain.
+
+As he did so a bright light struck him full in the face. It streamed
+full from a lamp on the desk and almost blinded him. It was a
+reading-lamp and the bulb had been turned up so as to throw a beam on
+the curtain behind which the boy was sheltering.
+
+Behind the desk, straining back in terror, stood a slim, girlish figure.
+The details of her dress were lost in the gathering shadows, but her
+face stood out in the gloom, a pale oval. Bruce could see the dark line
+made by the lashes on her cheek.
+
+At the sight of her, he stepped boldly forth from his hiding-place,
+shielding his eyes from the light with his hand.
+
+"It's Bruce Wright, Miss Trevert," he said, "don't you remember me?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+A FRESH CLUE
+
+"Oh!" cried the girl, "you frightened me! You frightened me! What do you
+want here ... in this horrible room?"
+
+She was trembling. One slim hand plucked nervously at her dress. Her
+breath came and went quickly.
+
+"I saw the curtain move. I thought it was the wind at first. But then I
+saw the outline of your fingers. And I imagined it was he ... come
+back ..."
+
+"Miss Trevert," said the boy abashed, "I must have frightened you
+terribly. I had no idea it was you!"
+
+"But why are you hiding here? How did you get in? What do you want in
+this house?"
+
+She spoke quickly, nervously. Some papers she held in her hand shook
+with her emotion. Bruce Wright stepped to the desk and turned the bulb
+of the reading-lamp down into its normal position.
+
+"I must apologize most sincerely for the fright I gave you," he said.
+"But, believe me, Miss Trevert, I had no idea that anybody could gain
+access to this room. I climbed in through the window. Bude told me that
+the police had taken away the key ..."
+
+The girl made an impatient gesture.
+
+"But why have you come here?" she said. "What do you want?"
+
+The boy measured her with a narrow glance. He was young, but he was
+shrewd. He saw her frank eyes, her candid, open mien, and he took a
+rapid decision.
+
+"I think I have come," he answered slowly, "for the same purpose as
+yourself!"
+
+And he looked at the papers in her hand.
+
+"I used to be Mr. Parrish's secretary, you know," he said.
+
+The girl sighed--a little fluttering sigh--and looked earnestly at him.
+
+"I remember," she said. "Hartley liked you. He was sorry that he sent
+you away. He often spoke of you to me. But why have you come back? What
+do you mean by saying you have come for the same purpose as myself?"
+
+Bruce Wright looked at the array of letter-trays. The marble
+paper-weight had been displaced. The tray in which it had lain was
+empty. He looked at the sheaf of papers in the girl's hand.
+
+"I wanted to see," he replied, "whether there was anything here ... on
+his desk ... which would explain the mystery of his death ..."
+
+The girl spread out the papers in her hand on the big blotter.
+
+She laid the papers out in a row and leant forward, her white arms
+resting on the desk. From the other side of the desk the boy leant
+eagerly forward and scanned the line of papers.
+
+At the first glimpse his face fell. The girl, eyeing him closely, marked
+the change which came over his features.
+
+There were seven papers of various kinds, both printed and written, and
+they were all on white paper.
+
+The boy shook his head and swept the papers together into a heap.
+
+"It's not there?" queried the girl eagerly.
+
+"No!" said Bruce absent-mindedly, glancing round the desk.
+
+"What isn't?" flashed back the girl.
+
+Bruce Wright felt his face redden with vexation. What sort of a
+confidential emissary was he to fall into a simple trap like this?
+
+The girl smiled rather wanly.
+
+"Now I know what you meant by saying you had come for the same purpose
+as myself," she said. "I suppose we both thought we might find
+something, a letter, perhaps, which would explain why Mr. Parrish did
+this dreadful thing, something to relieve this awful uncertainty about ...
+about his motive. Well, I've searched the desk ... and there's
+nothing! Nothing but just these prospectuses and receipts which were in
+the letter-tray here. They must have come by the post yesterday morning.
+And there's nothing of any importance in the drawers ... only household
+receipts and the wages book and a few odd things like that! You can see
+for yourself ..."
+
+The lower part of the desk consisted of three drawers flanked on either
+side by cupboards. Mary Trevert pulled out the drawers and opened the
+cupboards. Two of the drawers were entirely empty and one of the
+cupboards contained nothing but a stack of cigar boxes. One drawer held
+various papers appertaining to the house. There was no sign of any
+letter written on the slatey-blue paper.
+
+The boy looked very hard at Mary.
+
+"You say there was nothing in the letter-tray but these papers here?" he
+asked.
+
+"Nothing but these," replied the girl.
+
+"You didn't notice any official-looking letter on bluish paper?" he
+ventured to ask.
+
+"No," answered the girl. "I found nothing but these."
+
+The boy thought for a moment.
+
+"Do you know," he asked, "whether the police or anybody have been
+through the desk?"
+
+"I don't know at all," said Mary, smoothing back a lock of hair from her
+temple; "I daresay Mr. Jeekes had a look round, as he had a meeting with
+Mr. Parrish's lawyer in town this afternoon!"
+
+She had lost all trace of her fright and was now quite calm and
+collected.
+
+"Do you know for certain whether Mr. Jeekes was in here?" asked Bruce.
+
+"Oh, yes. The first thing he did on arriving last night was to go to the
+library."
+
+"I suppose Jeekes is coming back here to-night?"
+
+No, she told him. Mr. Jeekes did not expect to return to Harkings until
+the inquest on Tuesday.
+
+Bruce Wright picked up his hat.
+
+"I must apologize again, Miss Trevert," he said, "for making such an
+unconventional entrance and giving you such a fright. But I felt I could
+not rest until I had investigated matters for myself. I would have
+presented myself in the ordinary way, but, as I told you, Bude told me
+the police had locked up the room and taken away the key ..."
+
+Mary Trevert smiled forgivingly.
+
+"So they did," she said. "But Jay--Mr. Parrish's man, you know--had
+another key. He brought it to me."
+
+She looked at Bruce with a whimsical little smile.
+
+"You must have been very uncomfortable behind those curtains," she said.
+"I believe you were just as frightened as I was."
+
+She walked round the desk to the window.
+
+"It was a good hiding-place," she remarked, "but not much good as an
+observation post. Why! you could see nothing of the room. The curtains
+are much too thick!"
+
+"Not a thing," Bruce agreed rather ruefully. "I thought you were the
+detective!"
+
+He held out his hand to take his leave with a smile. He was a
+charming-looking boy with a remarkably serene expression which went well
+with close-cropped golden hair.
+
+Mary Trevert did not take his hand for an instant. Looking down at the
+point of her small black suede shoe she said shyly:
+
+"Mr. Wright, you are a friend of Mr. Greve, aren't you?"
+
+"Rather!" was the enthusiastic answer.
+
+"Do you see him often?"
+
+The boy's eyes narrowed suddenly. Was this a cross-examination?
+
+"Oh, yes," he replied, "every now and then!"
+
+Mary Trevert raised her eyes to his.
+
+"Will you do something for me?" she said. "Tell Mr. Greve not to trust
+Manderton. He will know whom I mean. Tell him to be on his guard against
+that man. Say he means mischief. Tell him, above all things, to be
+careful. Make him go away ... go abroad until this thing has blown
+over ..."
+
+She spoke with intense earnestness, her dark eyes fixed on Bruce
+Wright's face.
+
+"But promise me you won't say this comes from me! Do you understand?
+There are reasons, very strong reasons, for this. Will you promise?"
+
+"Of course!"
+
+She took Bruce's outstretched hand.
+
+"I promise," he said.
+
+"You mustn't go without tea," said the girl. "Besides,"--she glanced at
+a little platinum watch on her wrist,--"there's not another train until
+six. There is no need for you to start yet. I don't like being left
+alone. Mother has one of her headaches, and Horace and Dr. Romain have
+gone to Stevenish. Come up to my sitting-room!"
+
+She led the way out of the library, locking the door behind them, and
+together they went up to the Chinese boudoir where tea was laid on a low
+table before a bright fire. In the dainty room with its bright colours
+they seemed far removed from the tragedy which had darkened Harkings.
+
+They had finished tea when a tap came at the door. Bude appeared. He
+cast a reproachful look at Bruce.
+
+"Jay would be glad to have a word with you, Miss," he said.
+
+The girl excused herself and left the room. She was absent for about ten
+minutes. When she returned, she had a little furrow of perplexity
+between her brows. She walked over to the open fireplace and stood
+silent for an instant, her foot tapping the hearth-rug.
+
+"Mr. Wright," she said presently, "I'm going to tell you something that
+Jay has just told me. I want your advice ..."
+
+The boy looked at her interrogatively. But he did not speak.
+
+"I think this is rather important," the girl went on, "but I don't quite
+understand in what way it is. Jay tells me that Mr. Parrish had on his
+pistol a sort of steel fitting attached to the end ... you know, the
+part you shoot out of. Mr. Parrish used to keep his automatic in a
+drawer in his dressing-room, and Jay has often seen it there with this
+attachment fitted on. Well, when Mr. Parrish was discovered in the
+library yesterday, this thing was no longer on the pistol. And Jay says
+it's not to be found!..."
+
+"That's rather strange!" commented Bruce. "But what was this steel
+contraption for, do you know? Was it a patent sight or something?"
+
+"Jay doesn't know," answered the girl.
+
+"Would you mind if I spoke to Jay myself?" asked the young man.
+
+In reply the girl touched the bell beside the fireplace. Bude answered
+the summons and was despatched to find Jay. He appeared in due course, a
+tall, dark, sleek young man wearing a swallow-tail coat and striped
+trousers.
+
+"How are you, Jay?" said Bruce affably.
+
+"Very well, thank you, sir," replied the valet.
+
+"Miss Trevert was telling me about this appliance which you say Mr.
+Parrish had on his automatic. Could you describe it to me?"
+
+"Well, sir," answered the man rather haltingly, "it was a little sort of
+cup made of steel or gun-metal fitting closely over the barrel ..."
+
+"And you don't know what it was for?"
+
+"No, sir!"
+
+"Was it a sight, do you think?"
+
+"I can't say, I'm sure, sir!"
+
+"You know what a sight looks like, I suppose. Was there a bead on it or
+anything like it?"
+
+"I can't say, I'm sure, sir. I never gave any particular heed to it. I
+used to see the automatic lying in the drawer of the wardrobe in Mr.
+Parrish's room in a wash-leather case. I noticed this steel appliance,
+sir, because the case wouldn't shut over the pistol with it on and the
+butt used to stick out."
+
+"When did you last notice Mr. Parrish's automatic?"
+
+"It would be Thursday or Friday, sir. I went to that drawer to get Mr.
+Parrish an old stock to go riding in as some new ones he had bought were
+stiff and hurt him."
+
+"And this steel cup was on the pistol then?"
+
+"Oh, yes, sir!"
+
+"And you say it was not on the pistol when Mr. Parrish's body was
+found?"
+
+"No, sir!"
+
+"Are you sure of this?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I was one of the first in the room, and I saw the pistol in
+Mr. Parrish's hand, and there was no sign of the cup, sir. So I've had a
+good look among his things and I can't find it anywhere!"
+
+Bruce Wright pondered a minute.
+
+"Try and think, Jay," he said, "if you can't remember anything more
+about this steel cup, as you call it. Where did Mr. Parrish buy it?"
+
+"Can't say, I'm sure, sir. He had it before ever I took service with
+him!"
+
+Jay put his hand to his forehead for an instant.
+
+"Now I come to think of it," he said, "there was the name of the shop or
+maker on it, stamped on the steel. 'Maxim,' that was the name, now I put
+my mind back, with a number ..."
+
+"Maxim?" echoed Bruce Wright. "Did you say Maxim?"
+
+"Yes, sir! That was the name!" replied the valet impassively.
+
+"By Jove!" said the boy half to himself. Then he said aloud to Jay:
+
+"Did you tell the police about this?"
+
+Jay looked somewhat uncomfortable.
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Jay looked at Mary Trevert.
+
+"Well, sir, I thought perhaps I'd better tell Miss Trevert first. Bude
+thought so, too. That there Manderton has made so much unpleasantness in
+the house with his prying ways that I said to myself, sir ..."
+
+Bruce Wright looked at Mary.
+
+"Would you mind if I asked Jay not to say anything about this to anybody
+just for the present?" he asked.
+
+"You hear what Mr. Wright says, Jay," said Mary. "I don't want you to
+say anything about this matter just yet. Do you understand?"
+
+"Yes, Miss. Will that be all, Miss?"
+
+"Yes, thank you, Jay!"
+
+"Thanks very much, Jay," said the boy. "This may be important. Mum's the
+word, though!"
+
+"I _quite_ understand, sir," answered the valet and left the room.
+
+Hardly had the door closed on him than the girl turned eagerly to Bruce.
+
+"It _is_ important?" she asked.
+
+"It may be," was the guarded reply.
+
+"Don't leave me in the dark like this," the girl pleaded. "This horrible
+affair goes on growing and growing, and at every step it seems more
+bewildering ... more ghastly. Tell me where it is leading, Mr. Wright! I
+can't stand the suspense much more!"
+
+Her voice broke, and she turned her face away.
+
+"You must be brave, Miss Trevert," said the boy, putting his hand on her
+shoulder. "Don't ask me to tell you more now. Your friends are working
+to get at the truth ..."
+
+"The truth!" cried the girl. "God knows where the truth will lead us!"
+
+Bruce Wright hesitated a moment.
+
+"I don't think you have any need to fear the truth!" he said presently.
+
+The girl took her handkerchief from her face and looked at him with
+brimming eyes.
+
+"You know more than you let me think you did," she said brokenly. "But
+you are a friend of mine, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes," said Bruce, and added boldly:
+
+"And of his too!"
+
+She did not speak again, but gave him her hand. He clasped it and went
+out hurriedly to catch his train back to London.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+THE SILENT SHOT
+
+That faithful servitor of Fleet Street, the Law Courts clock, had just
+finished striking seven. It boomed out the hour, stroke by stroke,
+solemnly, inexorably, like a grim old judge summing up and driving home,
+point by point, an irrefutable charge. The heavy strokes broke in upon
+the fitful doze into which Robin Greve, stretched out in an armchair in
+his living-room, had dropped.
+
+He roused up with a start. There was the click of a key in the lock of
+his front door. Bruce Wright burst into the room.
+
+The boy shut the door quickly and locked it. He was rather pale and
+seemed perturbed. On seeing Robin he jerked his head in the direction of
+the courtyard.
+
+"I suppose you know they're still outside?" he said.
+
+Robin nodded nonchalantly.
+
+"There are three of them now," the boy went on. "Robin, I don't like it.
+Something's going to happen. You'll want to mind yourself ... if it's
+not too late already!"
+
+He stepped across to the window and bending down, peered cautiously
+round the curtain.
+
+Robin Greve laughed.
+
+"Bah!" he said, "they can't touch me!"
+
+"You're wrong," Bruce retorted without changing his position. "They can
+and they will. Don't think Manderton is a fool, Robin. He means
+mischief ..."
+
+Robin raised his eyebrows.
+
+"Does he?" he said. "Now I wonder who told you that ..."
+
+"Friends of yours at Harkings asked me to warn you ..." began Bruce
+awkwardly.
+
+"My friends are scarcely in the majority there," retorted Robin. "Whom
+do you mean exactly?"
+
+But the boy ignored the question.
+
+"Three men watching the house!" he exclaimed; "don't you think that
+_this_ looks as though Manderton meant business?"
+
+He returned to his post of observation at the curtain.
+
+Robin laughed cynically.
+
+"Manderton doesn't worry me any," he said cheerfully. "The man's the
+victim of an _id�e fixe_. He believes Parrish killed himself just as
+firmly as he believes that I frightened or bullied Parrish into doing
+it ..."
+
+"Don't be too sure about that, Robin," said the boy, dropping the
+curtain and coming back to Robin's chair. "He may want you to think
+that. But how can we tell how much he knows?"
+
+Robin flicked the ash off his cigarette disdainfully.
+
+"These promoted policemen make me tired," he said.
+
+Bruce Wright shook his head quickly with a little gesture of
+exasperation.
+
+"You don't understand," he said. "There's fresh evidence ..."
+
+Robin Greve looked up with real interest in his eyes. His bantering
+manner had vanished.
+
+"You've got that letter?" he asked eagerly.
+
+Bruce shook his head.
+
+"No, not that," he said. Then leaning forward he added in a low voice:
+
+"Have you ever heard of the Maxim silencer?"
+
+"I believe I have, vaguely," replied Robin. "Isn't it something to do
+with a motor engine?"
+
+"No," said Bruce. "It's an extraordinary invention which absolutely
+suppresses the noise of the discharge of a gun."
+
+Robin shot a quick glance at the speaker.
+
+"Go on," he said.
+
+"It's a marvelous thing, really," the boy continued, warming to his
+theme. "A man at Havre had one when I was at the base there, during the
+war. It's a little cup-shaped steel fitting that goes over the barrel.
+You can fire a rifle fitted with one of these silencers in a small room
+and it makes no more noise than a fairly loud sneeze ..."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+Robin was listening intently now.
+
+"Parrish had a Maxim silencer," Bruce went on impressively.
+
+"_Parrish_ had?"
+
+"It was fitted on his automatic pistol, the one he had in his hand when
+they found him ..."
+
+"There was no attachment of any kind on the gun Parrish was holding when
+he was discovered yesterday afternoon," declared Robin positively; "I
+can vouch for that. I was there almost immediately after they found him.
+And if there had been anything of the kind Horace Trevert would
+certainly have mentioned it ..."
+
+"I know. Jay, who came in soon after you, was surprised to see that the
+silencer was not on the pistol. And he made a point of looking for it ..."
+
+"But how do you know that Parrish had it on the pistol?..."
+
+"Well, we don't know for certain. But we do know that it was permanently
+fitted to his automatic. Jay has often seen it. And if Parrish did
+remove it, he didn't leave it lying around any where. Jay has looked
+all through his things without finding it ..."
+
+"When did Jay see it last?"
+
+"On Thursday!"
+
+"But are you sure that this is the same pistol as the one which Jay has
+been in the habit of seeing?"
+
+"Jay is absolutely sure. He says that Parrish only had the one automatic
+which he always kept in the same drawer in his dressing-room ..."
+
+Robin was silent for a moment. Very deliberately he filled his pipe, lit
+it, and drew until it burned comfortably. Then he said slowly:
+
+"This means that Hartley Parrish was murdered, Bruce, old man. All
+through I have been puzzling my mind to reconcile the unquestionable
+circumstance that two bullets were fired--I told you of the bullet mark
+I found on the upright in the rosery--with the undoubted fact that only
+one report was heard. We can therefore presume, either that Hartley
+Parrish first fired one shot from his pistol with the silencer fitted
+and then removed the silencer and fired another shot without it, thereby
+killing himself, or that the second shot was fired by the person whose
+interest it was to get rid of the silencer. There is no possible or
+plausible reason why Parrish should have fired first one shot with the
+silencer and then one without. Therefore, I find myself irresistibly
+compelled to the conclusion that the shot heard by Mary Trevert was
+fired by the person who killed Parrish. Do I make myself clear?"
+
+"Perfectly," answered Bruce.
+
+"Now, then," the barrister proceeded, thoughtfully puffing at his pipe,
+"one weak point about my deductions is that they all hang on the
+question as to whether, at the time of the tragedy, Parrish actually had
+the silencer on his pistol or not. That is really the acid test of
+Manderton's suicide theory. You said, I think, that a rifle fired with
+the silencer attachment makes no more noise than the sound of a loud
+sneeze!"
+
+"That's right," agreed Bruce; "a sort of harsh, spluttering noise. Not
+so loud either, Robin. Ph ... t-t-t! Like that!"
+
+"Loud enough to be heard through a door, would you say?"
+
+"Oh, I think so!"
+
+Robin thought intently for a moment.
+
+"Then Mary is the only one who can put us right on that point. Assuming
+that two shots were fired--and that bullet mark in the rosery is, I
+think, conclusive on that head--and knowing that she heard the loud
+report of the one, presumably, if Parrish had the silencer on his
+automatic, Mary must have heard the _muffled_ report of the other. What
+it comes to is this, Mary heard the shot fired that killed Parrish. Did
+she hear the shot he fired at his murderer?"
+
+"By Gad!" exclaimed Bruce Wright impressively, "I believe you've got it,
+Robin! Parrish fired at somebody at the window--a silent shot--and the
+other fellow fired back the shot that Mary Trevert heard, the shot that
+killed Parrish. Isn't that the way you figure it out?"
+
+"Not so fast, young man," remarked Robin. "Let's first find out whether
+Mary actually heard the muffled shot and, if so, _when ... before_ or
+_after_ the loud report."
+
+He glanced across at the window and then at Bruce,
+
+"I suppose this discovery about the silencer is responsible for the
+deputation waiting in the courtyard," he said drily.
+
+"The police don't know about it yet," replied Bruce; "at least they
+didn't when I left."
+
+Robin shook his head dubiously.
+
+"If the servants know it, Manderton will worm it out of them. Hasn't he
+cross-examined Jay?"
+
+"Yes," said Bruce. "But he got nothing out of him about this. Manderton
+seems to have put everybody's back up. He gets nothing out of the
+servants ..."
+
+"If Parrish had had this silencer for some time, you may be sure that
+other people know about it. These silencers must be pretty rare in
+England. You see, an average person like myself didn't know what it was.
+By the way, another point which we haven't yet cleared up is this:
+supposing we are right in believing Parrish to have been murdered, how
+do you explain the fact that the bullet removed from his body fitted his
+pistol?"
+
+"That's a puzzler, I must say!" said Bruce.
+
+"There's only one possible explanation, I think," Robin went on, "and
+that is that Parrish was shot by a pistol of exactly the same calibre as
+his own. For the murderer to have killed Parrish with his own weapon
+would have been difficult without a struggle. But Miss Trevert heard no
+struggle. For murderer and his victim to have pistols of the same
+calibre argues a rather remarkable coincidence, I grant you. But then
+life is full of coincidences! We meet them every day in the law. Though,
+I admit, this is a coincidence which requires some explaining ..."
+
+He fell into a brown study which Bruce interrupted by suddenly
+remembering that he had had no lunch.
+
+For answer Robin pointed at the sideboard.
+
+"There's a cloth in there," he said, "also the whisky, if my laundress
+has left any, and a siphon and there should be some claret--Mrs. Bragg
+doesn't care about red wine. Set the table, and I'll take a root round
+in the kitchen and dig up some tinned stuff."
+
+They supped off a tinned tongue and some _p�t� de foie gras_. Over their
+meal Bruce told Robin of his adventure in the library at Harkings.
+
+"Jeekes must have collected that letter," Bruce said. "Before I came to
+you, I went to Lincoln's Inn Fields to see if he was still at Bardy's--
+Parrish's solicitor, you know. But the office was closed, and the place
+in darkness. I went on to the Junior Pantheon, that's Jeekes's club, but
+he wasn't in. He hadn't been there all day, the porter told me. So I
+left a note asking him to ring you up here ..."
+
+"The case reeks of blackmail," said Robin thoughtfully, "but I am
+wondering how much we shall glean from this precious letter when we do
+see it. I am glad you asked Jeekes to ring me up, though. He should be
+able to tell us something about these mysterious letters on the blue
+paper that used to put Parrish in such a stew ... Hullo, who can that
+be?"
+
+An electric bell trilled through the flat. It rang once ... twice ...
+and then a third time, a long, insistent peal.
+
+"See who's there, will you, Bruce?" said Robin.
+
+"Suppose it's the police ..." began the boy.
+
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You can say I'm at home and ask them in," he said.
+
+He heard the heavy oaken door swing open, a murmur of voices in the
+hall. The next moment Detective-Inspector Manderton entered the
+sitting-room,
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+MR. MANDERTON LAYS HIS CARDS ON THE TABLE
+
+The detective's manner had undergone some subtle change which Robin,
+watching him closely as he came into the room, was quick to note. Mr.
+Manderton made an effort to retain his old air of rather patronizing
+swagger; but he seemed less sure of himself than was his wont. In fact,
+he appeared to be a little anxious.
+
+He walked briskly into the sitting-room and looked quickly from Bruce to
+Robin.
+
+"Mr. Greve," he said, "you can help me if you will by answering a few
+questions ..."
+
+With another glance at Bruce Wright he added:
+
+"... in private."
+
+Bruce, obedient to a sign from Robin, said he would ring up in the
+morning and prepared to take his leave. Robin turned to the detective.
+
+"There are some of your men, I believe," he said coldly, "watching this
+house. Would it be asking too much to request that my friend here might
+be permitted to return home unescorted?"
+
+"He needn't worry," replied Manderton with a significant smile.
+"There's no one outside now!..."
+
+They watched Bruce Wright pass into the hall and collect his hat and
+coat. As the front door slammed behind him, the detective added:
+
+"I took 'em off myself soon after seven o'clock!"
+
+"Why?" asked Robin bluntly.
+
+Mr. Manderton dropped his heavy form into a chair.
+
+"I'm a plain man, Mr. Greve," he said, "and I'm not above owning to it,
+I hope, when I'm wrong. For some little time now it has struck me that
+our lines of investigation run parallel ..."
+
+"Instead of crossing!"
+
+"Instead of crossing--exactly!"
+
+"It's a pity you did not grasp that very obvious fact earlier," observed
+Robin pointedly.
+
+Mr. Manderton crossed one leg over the other and, his finger-tips
+pressed together, looked at Robin.
+
+"Will you help me?" he asked simply.
+
+"Do you want my help?"
+
+Mr. Manderton nodded.
+
+"Allies, then?"
+
+"Allies it is!"
+
+Robin pointed to the table.
+
+"It's dry work talking," he said. "Won't you take a drink?"
+
+"Thanks, I don't drink. But I'll have a cigar if I may. Thank you!"
+
+The detective helped himself to a cheroot from a box on the table and
+lit up. Then, affecting to scan the end of his cigar with great
+attention, he asked abruptly:
+
+"What do you know of the woman calling herself Madame de Malpas?"
+
+Robin pursed up his lips rather disdainfully.
+
+"One of the late Mr. Parrish's lady friends," he replied. "I expect you
+know that!"
+
+"Do you know where she lives?" pursued the detective, ignoring the
+implied question.
+
+"She's dead."
+
+A flicker of interest appeared for an instant in Mr. Manderton's keen
+eyes.
+
+"You're sure of that?"
+
+"Certainly," answered Robin.
+
+"Who told you?"
+
+"Le Hagen--the solicitor, you know. He acted for this Malpas woman on
+one or two occasions."
+
+"When did she die?"
+
+"Six or seven months ago ..."
+
+"Did Jeekes know about it?"
+
+"Jeekes? Do you mean Parrish's secretary?
+
+"It's funny your asking that. As a matter of fact, it was through Jeekes
+that I heard the lady was dead. I was in Le Hagen's office one day when
+Jeekes came in, and Le Hagen told me Jeekes had come to pay in a cheque
+for the cost of the funeral and the transport of the body to France."
+
+"This was six or seven months ago, you say? I take it, then, that any
+allowance that Parrish was in the habit of making to this woman has
+ceased?"
+
+"I tell you the lady is dead!"
+
+"Then what would you say if I informed you that Mr. Jeekes had declared
+that these payments were still going on ..."
+
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I should say he was lying ..."
+
+"I agree. But why?"
+
+"Whom did he tell this to?"
+
+"Miss Trevert!"
+
+"Miss Trevert?"
+
+Robin repeated the name in amazement.
+
+"I don't understand," he said. "Why on earth should Jeekes blacken his
+employer's character to Miss Trevert? What conceivable motive could he
+have had? Did she tell you this?"
+
+"No," said Manderton; "I heard him tell her myself."
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," protested Robin, growing more and more
+puzzled, "that Jeekes told Miss Trevert this offensive and deliberate
+lie in your presence!"
+
+"Well," remarked Mr. Manderton slowly, "I don't know about his saying
+this in my presence exactly. But I heard him tell her for all that.
+Walls have ears, you know--particularly if the door is ajar!"
+
+He looked shrewdly at Robin, then dropped his eyes to the floor.
+
+"He also told her that Le Hagen and you were in business relations ..."
+
+Robin sat up at this.
+
+"Ah!" he said shortly. "I see what you're getting at now. Our friend has
+been trying to set Miss Trevert against me, eh? But why? I don't even
+know this man Jeekes except to have nodded 'Good-morning' to him a few
+times. Why on earth should he of all men go out of his way to slander me
+to Miss Trevert, to throw suspicion ..."
+
+He broke off short and looked at the detective.
+
+Mr. Manderton caressed his big black moustache.
+
+"Yes," he repeated suavely, "you were saying 'to cast suspicion' ..."
+
+The eyes of the two men met. Then the detective leaned back in his
+chair and, blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips, said:
+
+"Mr. Greve, you've been thinking ahead of me on this case. What you've
+told me so far I've checked. And you're right. Dead right. And since
+you're, in a manner of speaking, one of the parties interested in
+getting things cleared up, I'd like you to tell me just simply what idea
+you've formed about it ..."
+
+"Gladly," answered the barrister. "And to start with let me tell you
+that the case stinks of blackmail ..."
+
+"Steady on," interposed the detective. "I thought so, too, at first.
+I've been into all that. Mr. Parrish made a clean break with the last of
+his lady friends about two months since; and, as far as our
+investigations go, there has been no blackmail in connection with any of
+his women pals. Vine Street knows all about Master Parrish. There were
+complaints about some of his little parties up in town. But I don't
+believe there's a woman in this case ..."
+
+"I didn't say there was," retorted Robin. "The blackmail is probably
+being levied from Holland. A threat of violence was finally carried into
+effect on Saturday evening between 5 and 5.15 P.M. by some one
+conversant with the lie of the land at Harkings. This individual, armed
+with an automatic Browning of the same calibre as Mr. Parrish's, shot
+at Parrish through the open window of the library and killed
+him--probably in self-defence, after Parrish had had a shot at him ..."
+
+"Steady there, whoa!" said Mr. Manderton in a jocular way clearly
+expressive of his incredulity; "there was only one shot ..."
+
+"There were _two_," was Robin's dispassionate reply. "Though maybe only
+one was heard. Parrish had a Maxim silencer on his gun ..."
+
+Mr. Manderton was now thoroughly alert.
+
+"How did you find that out?" he asked.
+
+"Jay, Parrish's man, came forward and volunteered this evidence ..."
+
+"He said nothing about it when I questioned him," grumbled the
+detective.
+
+Robin laughed.
+
+"You're a terror to the confirmed criminal, they tell me, Manderton," he
+said, "but you obviously don't understand that complicated mechanism
+known as the domestic servant. No servant at Harkings will voluntarily
+tell _you_ anything ..."
+
+Mr. Manderton, who had stood up, shook his big frame impatiently.
+
+"Explain the rest of your theories," he said harshly. "What's all this
+about blackmail being levied from Holland?"
+
+Then Robin Greve told him of the letters written on the slatey-blue
+paper and of their effect upon Parrish, and of the letter headed, "Elias
+van der Spyck & Co., General Importers, Rotterdam," which had lain on
+the desk in the library when Parrish's dead body had been found.
+
+Manderton nodded gloomily.
+
+"It was there right enough," he remarked. "I saw it. A letter about
+steel shipments and the dockers' strike, wasn't it? As there seemed
+nothing to it, I left it with the other papers for Jeekes, the secretary
+chap. But what evidence is there that this was blackmail?"
+
+"This," said Robin, and showed the detective the sheet of blue paper
+with its series of slits. "Manderton," he said, "these letters written
+on this blue paper were in code, I feel sure. Why should not this be the
+key? You see it bears a date--'Nov. 25.' May it not refer to that
+letter? I found it by Parrish's body on the carpet in the library. I
+would have given it to you at Harkings, but I shoved it in my pocket and
+forgot all about it until I was in the train coming up to town this
+morning."
+
+Mr. Manderton took the sheet of paper, turned it over, and held it up to
+the light. Then, without comment, he put it away in the pocket of his
+jacket.
+
+"If Parrish killed himself," Robin went on earnestly, "that letter drove
+him to it. If, on the other hand, he was murdered, may not that letter
+have contained a warning?"
+
+"I should prefer to suspend judgment until we've seen the letter, Mr.
+Greve," said the detective bluntly. "We must get it from Jeekes. In the
+meantime, what makes you think that the murderer (to follow up your
+theory) was conversant with the lay of the land at Harkings?"
+
+"Because," answered Robin, "the murderer left no tracks on the grass or
+flower-beds. He stuck to the hard gravel path throughout. That path,
+which runs from the drive through the rosery to the gravel path round
+the house just under the library window, is precious hard to find in the
+dark, especially where it leaves the drive, as at the outset it is a
+mere thread between the rhododendron bushes. And, as I know from
+experience, unless you are acquainted with the turns in the path, it is
+very easy to get off it in the dark, especially in the rosery, and go
+blundering on to the flower-beds. And I'll tell you something else about
+the murderer. He--or she--was of small stature--not much above five
+foot six in height. The upward diagonal course of the bullet through
+Parrish's heart shows that ..."
+
+Mr. Manderton shook his head dubiously.
+
+"Very ingenious," he commented. "But you go rather fast, Mr. Greve. We
+must test your theory link by link. There may be an explanation for
+Jeekes's apparently inexplicable lie to the young lady. Let's see him
+and hear what he says. The grounds at Harkings must be searched for this
+second bullet, if second bullet there is, the mark on the tree examined
+by an expert. And since two bullets argue two pistols in this case, let
+us see what result we get from our enquiries as to where Mr. Parrish
+bought his pistol. He may have had two pistols ..."
+
+"If Parrish used a silencer," remarked Robin, quite undisconcerted by
+the other's lack of enthusiasm, "and my theory that two shots were fired
+is correct, there must have been two reports, a loud one and a muffled
+one. Miss Trevert heard one report, as we know. Did she hear a second?"
+
+"She said nothing about it," remarked the detective.
+
+"She was probably asked nothing about it. But we can get this point
+cleared up at once. There's the telephone. Ring up Harkings and ask her
+now."
+
+"Why not?" said Mr. Manderton and moved to the telephone.
+
+There is little delay on the long-distance lines on a Sunday evening,
+and the call to Harkins came through almost at once. Bude answered the
+telephone at Harkings. Manderton asked for Miss Trevert. The butler
+replied that Miss Trevert was no longer at Harkings. She had gone to the
+Continent for a few days.
+
+This plain statement, retailed in the fortissimo voice which Bude
+reserved for use on the telephone, produced a remarkable effect on the
+detective. He grew red in the face.
+
+"What's that?" he cried assertively. "Gone to the Continent? I should
+have been told about this. Why wasn't I informed? What part of the
+Continent has she gone to?"
+
+Mr. Manderton's questions, rapped out with a rasping vigour that
+recalled a machine-gun firing, brought Robin to his feet in an instant.
+He crossed over to the desk on which the telephone stood.
+
+Manderton placed one big palm over the transmitter and turned to Robin.
+
+"She's gone to the Continent and left no address," he said quickly.
+
+"Ask him if Lady Margaret is there," suggested Robin.
+
+Mr. Manderton spoke into the telephone again. Lady Margaret had gone to
+bed, Bude answered, and her ladyship was much put out by Miss Trevert
+gallivanting off like that by herself with only a scribbled note left to
+say that she had gone.
+
+Had Bude got the note?
+
+No, Mr. Manderton, sir, he had not. But Lady Margaret had shown it to
+him. It had simply stated that Miss Trevert had gone off to the
+Continent and would be back in a few days.
+
+Again the detective turned to Robin at his elbow.
+
+"These country bumpkins!" he said savagely. "I must go to the Yard and
+get Humphries on the 'phone. He may have telegraphed me about it. You
+stay here and I'll ring you later if there's any news. What do you make
+of it, Mr. Greve?"
+
+"It beats me," was Robin's rueful comment. "And what about the inquest?
+It's for Tuesday, isn't it? Miss Trevert will have to give evidence, I
+take it?..."
+
+"Oh," said Mr. Manderton, picking up his hat and speaking in an offhand
+way, "I'm getting _that_ adjourned for a week!"
+
+"The inquest adjourned! Why?"
+
+There was a twinkle in the detective's eye as he replied.
+
+"I thought, maybe, I might get further evidence ..."
+
+Robin caught the expression and smiled.
+
+"And when did you come to this decision, may I ask?"
+
+"After our little experiment in the garden this morning," was the
+detective's prompt reply.
+
+Robin looked at him fixedly.
+
+"But, see here," he said, "apparently it was to the deductions you
+formed from the result of that experiment that I owe the attentions of
+your colleagues who have been hanging round the house all day. And yet
+you now come to me and invite my assistance. Mr. Manderton, I don't get
+it at all!"
+
+"Mr. Greve," replied the detective, "Miss Trevert tried to shield you.
+That made me suspicious. You tried to force my investigations into an
+entirely new path. That deepened my suspicions. I believed it to be my
+duty to ascertain your movements after leaving Harkings. But then I
+heard Jeekes make an apparently gratuitously false statement to Miss
+Trevert with an implication against you. That, to some extent, cleared
+you in my eyes. I say 'to some extent' because I will not deny that I
+thought I might be taking a risk in coming to you like this. You see I
+am frank!..."
+
+The smile had left Greve's face and he looked rather grim.
+
+"You're pretty deep, aren't you?" was his brief comment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+THE CODE KING
+
+Major Euan MacTavish was packing. A heavy and well-worn leather
+portmanteau, much adorned with foreign luggage labels, stood in the
+centre of the floor. From a litter of objects piled up on a side table
+the Major was transferring to it various brown-paper packages which he
+checked by a list in his hand.
+
+The Major always packed for himself. He packed with the neatness and
+rapidity derived from long experience of travel. As a matter of fact, he
+could not afford a manservant any more than he could allow himself
+quarters more luxurious than the rather grimy bedroom in Bury Street
+which housed him during his transient appearances in town. The
+remuneration doled out by the Foreign Office to the quiet and
+unobtrusive gentlemen known as King's messengers is, in point of fact,
+out of all proportion to the prestige and glamour surrounding the silver
+greyhound badge, an example of which was tucked away in a pocket of the
+Major's blue serge jacket hanging over the back of a chair.
+
+"Let's see," said the Major, addressing a large brown-paper covered
+package standing in the corner of the room, "you're the bird-cage for
+Lady Sylvia at The Hague. Two pounds of candles for Mrs. Harry Deepdale
+at Berlin; the razor blades for Sir Archibald at Prague; the Teddy bear
+for Marjorie; polo-balls for the Hussars at Constantinople--there! I
+think that's the lot! Hullo, hullo, who the devil's that?"
+
+With a groaning of wires a jangling bell tinkled through the hall (the
+Major's bedroom was on the ground floor). Sims, the aged ex-butler, who,
+with his wife, "did for" his lodgers in more ways than one, was out and
+the single servant-maid had her Sunday off. Euan MacTavish glanced at
+his wrist watch. It showed the hour to be ten minutes past nine. A
+flowered silk smoking-coat over his evening clothes and a briar pipe in
+his mouth, he went out into the hall and opened the front door.
+
+It was a drenching night. The lamps from a taxi which throbbed dully in
+the street outside the house threw a gleaming band of light on the
+shining pavement. At the door stood a taxi-driver.
+
+"There's a lady asking for Major MacTavish," he said, pointing at the
+cab. The Major stepped across to the cab and opened the door.
+
+"Oh, Euan," said a girl's voice, "how lucky I am to catch you!"
+
+"Why, Mary," exclaimed the Major, "what on earth brings you round to me
+on a night like this? I only came up from the country this afternoon and
+I'm off for Constantinople in the morning!"
+
+"Euan," said Mary Trevert, "I want to talk to you. Where can we talk?"
+
+The Major raised his eyebrows. He was a little man with grizzled hair
+and finely cut, rather sharp features.
+
+"Well," he remarked, "there's not a soul in the house, and I've only got
+a bedroom here. Though we're cousins, Mary, my dear, I don't know that
+you ought to...."
+
+"You're a silly old-fashioned old dear," exclaimed the girl, "and I'm
+coming in. No, I'll keep the cab. We shall want it!"
+
+"All right," said the Major, helping her to alight. "I tell you what.
+We'll go into Harry Prankhurst's sitting-room. He's away for the
+week-end, anyway!"
+
+He took Mary Trevert into a room off the hall and switched on the
+electric light. Then for the first time he saw how pale she looked.
+
+"My dear," he said, "I know what an awful shock you've had...."
+
+"You've heard about it?"
+
+"I saw it in the Sunday papers. I was going to write to you."
+
+"Euan," the girl began in a nervous, hasty way, "I have to go to Holland
+at once. There is not a moment to lose. I want you to help me get my
+passport vis�ed."
+
+"But, my dear girl," exclaimed the Major, aghast, "you can't go to
+Holland like this alone. Does your mother know about it?"
+
+The girl shook her head.
+
+"It's no good trying to stop me, Euan," she declared. "I mean to go,
+anyway. As a matter of fact, Mother doesn't know. I merely left word
+that I had gone to the Continent for a few days. Nobody knows about
+Holland except you. And if you won't help me I suppose I shall have to
+go to Harry Tadworth at the Foreign Office. I came to you first because
+he's always so stuffy ..."
+
+Euan MacTavish pushed the girl into a chair and gave her a cigarette. He
+lit it for her and took one himself. His pipe had vanished into his
+pocket.
+
+"Of course, I'll help you," he said. "Now, tell me all about it!"
+
+"Before ... this happened I had promised Hartley Parrish to marry him,"
+began the girl. "The doctors say his nerves were wrong. I don't believe
+a word of it. He was full of the joy of life. He was very fond of me. He
+was always talking of what we should do when we were married. He never
+would have killed himself without some tremendously powerful motive.
+Even then I can't believe it possible ..."
+
+She made a little nervous gesture.
+
+"After he ... did it," she went on, "I found this letter on his desk. It
+came to him from Holland. I mean to see the people who wrote it and
+discover if they can throw any light on ... on ... the affair ..."
+
+She had taken from her muff a letter, folded in four, written on paper
+of a curious dark slatey-blue colour.
+
+"Won't you show me the letter?"
+
+"You promise to say nothing about it to any one?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Of course."
+
+Without a word the girl gave him the letter. With slow deliberation he
+unfolded it. The letter was typewritten and headed: "Elias van der Spyck
+& Co. General Importers, Rotterdam."
+
+This was the letter:
+
+  ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+  GENERAL IMPORTERS
+  ROTTERDAM Rotterdam 25th Nov.
+
+  _Codes_
+  A.B.C.
+  Liebler's
+
+  _Personal_
+  Dear Mr. Parrish,
+
+  Your favor of even date to hand and contents
+  noted. The last delivery of steel was to time but we have had
+  warning from the railway authorities that labour troubles at the
+  docks are likely to delay future consignments. If you don't
+  mind we should prefer to settle the question of future
+  delivery by Nov. 27 as we have a board meeting on the 30th
+  inst. While we fully appreciate your own difficulties with
+  labour at home, you will understand that this is a question
+  which we cannot afford to adjourn _sine die_.
+
+  Yours faithfully,
+  pro ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+
+The signature was illegible.
+
+Euan MacTavish folded the letter again and handed it back to Mary.
+
+"That doesn't take me any farther," he said. "What do the police think
+of it?"
+
+"They haven't seen it," was the girl's reply. "I took it without them
+knowing. I mean to make my own investigations about this ..."
+
+"But, my dear Mary," exclaimed the little Major in a shocked voice, "you
+can't do things that way! Don't you see you may be hindering the course
+of justice? The police may attach the greatest importance to this
+letter ..."
+
+"You're quite right," retorted the girl, "they do!"
+
+"Then why have you kept it from them?"
+
+Mary Trevert dropped her eyes and a little band of crimson flushed into
+her cheeks.
+
+"Because," she commenced, "because ... well, because they are trying to
+implicate a friend of mine ..."
+
+The Major took the girl's hand.
+
+"Mary," he said, "I've known you all your life. I've knocked about a
+good bit and know something of the world, I believe. Suppose you tell me
+all about it ..."
+
+Mary Trevert hesitated. Then she said, her hands nervously toying with
+her muff:
+
+"We believe that Robin Greve--you know whom I mean--had a conversation
+with Hartley just before he ... he shot himself. That very afternoon
+Robin had asked me to marry him, but I told him about my engagement. He
+said some awful things about Hartley and rushed away. Ten minutes later
+Hartley Parrish committed suicide. And there _was_ some one talking to
+him in the library. Bude, the butler, heard the voices. This afternoon I
+went down to the library alone ... to see if I could discover anything
+likely to throw any light on poor Hartley's death. This was the only
+letter I could find. It was tucked away between two letter-trays. One
+tray fitted into the other, and this letter had slipped between. It
+seems to have been overlooked both by Mr. Parrish's secretary and the
+police ..."
+
+"But I confess," argued the Major, "that I don't see how this letter,
+which appears to be a very ordinary business communication, implicates
+anybody at all. Why shouldn't the police see it?..."
+
+"Because," said Mary, "directly after discovering it I found Bruce
+Wright, who used to be one of Mr. Parrish's private secretaries, hiding
+behind the curtains in the library. Now, Bruce Wright is a great friend
+of Robin Greve's, and I immediately suspected that Robin had sent him
+to Harkings, particularly as ..."
+
+"As what?..."
+
+"As he practically admitted to me, that he had come for a letter written
+on slatey-blue official-looking paper."
+
+The girl held up the letter from Rotterdam.
+
+"All this," the girl continued, "made me think that this letter must
+have had something to do with Hartley's death ..."
+
+"Surely an additional reason for giving it to the police!..."
+
+Mary Trevert set her mouth in an obstinate line.
+
+"No!" she affirmed uncompromisingly. "The police believe that, as the
+result of a scene between Hartley and Robin, Hartley killed himself.
+Until I've found out for certain whether this letter implicates Robin or
+not, I sha'n't give it to the police ..."
+
+"But, if Greve really had nothing to do with this shocking tragedy, the
+police can very easily clear him. Surely they are the best judges of his
+guilt ..."
+
+Again a touch of warm colour suffused the girl's cheeks. Euan MacTavish
+remarked it and looked at her wistfully.
+
+"Well, well," he observed gently, "perhaps they're not, after all!"
+
+The girl looked up at him.
+
+"Euan, dear," she said impulsively, "I knew you'd understand. Robin and
+Hartley may have had a row, but it was nothing worse. Robin is incapable
+of having threatened--blackmailed--Hartley, as the police seem to
+imagine. I am greatly upset by it all; I can't see things clear at all;
+but I'm determined not to give the police a weapon like this to use
+against Robin until I know whether it is sharp or blunt, until I have
+found out what bearing, if any, this letter had on Hartley Parrish's
+death ..."
+
+Euan MacTavish leant back in his chair and said nothing. He finished his
+cigarette, pitched the butt into the fender, and turned to Mary. He
+asked her to let him see the letter again. Once more he read it over.
+Then, handing it back to her, he said:
+
+"It's all so simple-looking that there may well be something behind it.
+But, if you do go to Holland, how are you going to set about your
+enquiries?"
+
+"That's where you can help me, Euan, dear," answered the girl. "I want
+to find somebody at Rotterdam who will help me to make some confidential
+enquiries about this firm. Do you know any one? An Englishman would be
+best, of course ..."
+
+But Euan MacTavish was halfway to the door.
+
+"Wait there," he commanded, "till I telephone the one man in the world
+who can help us."
+
+He vanished into the hall where Mary heard him at the instrument.
+
+"We are going round to the Albany," he said, "to see my friend, Ernest
+Dulkinghorn, of the War Office. He can help us if any one can. But,
+Mary, you must promise me one thing before we go ... you must agree to
+do what old Ernest tells you. You needn't be afraid. He is the most
+unconventional of men, capable of even approving this madcap scheme of
+yours!"
+
+"I agree," said Mary, "but how you waste time, Euan! We could have been
+at the Albany by this time!"
+
+In a first-floor oak-panelled suite at the Albany, overlooking the
+covered walk that runs from Piccadilly to Burlington Gardens, they found
+an excessively fair, loose-limbed man whose air of rather helpless
+timidity was heightened by a pair of large tortoise-shell spectacles. He
+appeared excessively embarrassed at the sight of MacTavish's extremely
+good-looking companion.
+
+"You never told me you were bringing a lady, Euan," he said
+reproachfully, "or I should have attempted to have made myself more
+presentable."
+
+He looked down at his old flannel suit and made an apologetic gesture
+which took in the table littered with books and papers and the sofa on
+which lay a number of heavy tomes with marked slips sticking out between
+the pages.
+
+"I am working at a code," he explained.
+
+"Ernest here," said MacTavish, turning to Mary, "is the code king. Your
+pals in the Intelligence tell me, Ernest, that you've never been beaten
+by a code ..."
+
+The fair man laughed nervously.
+
+"They've been pullin' your leg, Euan," he said.
+
+"Don't you believe him, Mary," retorted her cousin. "This is the man who
+probably did more than any one man to beat the Boche. Whenever the
+brother Hun changed his code, Brother Ernest was called in and he
+produced a key in one, two, three!..."
+
+"What rot you talk, Euan!" said Dulkinghorn. "Working out a code is a
+combination of mathematics, perseverance, and inspiration with a good
+slice of luck thrown in! But isn't Miss Trevert going to sit down?"
+
+He cleared the sofa with a sweep of his arm which sent the books flying
+on to the floor.
+
+"Ernest," said MacTavish, "I want you to give Miss Trevert here a
+letter to some reliable fellow in Rotterdam who can assist her in making
+a few enquiries of a very delicate nature!"
+
+"What sort of enquiries?" asked Dulkinghorn bluntly.
+
+"About a firm called Elias van der Spyck," replied Euan.
+
+"Of Rotterdam?" enquired the other sharply.
+
+"That's right! Do you know them?"
+
+"I've heard the name. They do a big business. But hadn't Miss Trevert
+better tell her story herself?"
+
+Mary told him of the death of Hartley Parrish and of the letter she had
+found upon his desk. She said nothing of the part played by Robin Greve.
+
+"Hmph!" said Dulkinghorn. "You think it might be blackmail, eh? Well,
+well, it might be. Have you got this letter about you? Hand it over and
+let's have a look at it."
+
+His nervous manner had vanished. His face seemed to take on a much
+keener expression. He took the letter from Mary and read it through.
+Then he crossed the room to a wall cupboard which he unlocked with a key
+on a chain, produced a small tray on which stood a number of small
+bottles, some paint-brushes and pens, and several little open dishes
+such as are used for developing photographs. He bore the tray to the
+table, cleared a space on a corner by knocking a pile of books and
+papers on the floor, and set it down.
+
+"Just poke the fire!" he said to Euan.
+
+From a drawer in the table he produced a board on which he pinned down
+the letter with a drawing-pin at each corner. Then he dipped a
+paint-brush into one of the bottles and carefully painted the whole
+surface of the sheet with some invisible fluid.
+
+"So!" he said, "we'll leave that to dry and see if we can find out any
+little secrets, eh? That little tray'll do the trick if there's any
+monkey business to this letter of yours, Miss Trevert. That'll do the
+trick, eh, what?"
+
+He paced the room as he talked, not waiting for an answer, but running
+on as though he were soliloquizing. Presently he turned and swooped down
+on the board.
+
+"Nothing," he ejaculated. "Now for the acids!"
+
+With a little piece of sponge he carefully wiped the surface of the
+letter and painted it again with a substance from another bottle.
+
+"Just hold that to the fire, would you, Euan?" he said, and gave
+MacTavish the board. He resumed his pacing, but this time he hummed in
+the most unmelodious voice imaginable:
+
+  She was bright as a butterfly, as fair as a queen,
+  Was pretty little Polly Perkins, of Paddington Green.
+
+"It's dry!"
+
+MacTavish's voice broke in upon the pacing and the discordant song.
+
+"Well?"
+
+Dulkinghorn snapped out the question.
+
+"No result!" said Euan. He handed him the board.
+
+Dulkinghorn cast a glance at it, swiftly removed the letter, held it for
+an instant up to the electric light, fingered the paper for a moment,
+and handed the letter back to Mary.
+
+"If it's code," he said, "it's a conventional code and that always beats
+the expert ... at first. Go to Rotterdam and call on my friend, Mr.
+William Schulz. I'll give you a letter for him and he'll place himself
+entirely at your disposition. Euan will take you over. Holland is on
+your beat, ain't it, Euan? When do you go next?"
+
+"To-morrow," said the King's Messenger. "The boat train leaves Liverpool
+Street at ten o'clock."
+
+"You'll want a passport," said Dulkinghorn, turning to the girl.
+"You've got it there? Good. Leave it with me. You shall have it back
+properly vis�ed by nine o'clock to-morrow morning. Where are you
+stayin'? Almond's Hotel. Good. I'll send the letter for Mr. William
+Schulz with it!"
+
+"But," Euan interjected mildly, after making several ineffectual efforts
+to stem the torrent of speech, "do you really think that Miss Trevert
+will be well advised to risk this trip to Holland alone? Hadn't the
+police better take the matter in hand?"
+
+"Police be damned!" replied Dulkinghorn heartily. "Miss Trevert will be
+better than a dozen heavy-handed, heavy-footed plain-clothes men. When
+you get to Rotterdam, Miss Trevert, you trot along and call on William
+Schulz. He'll see you through."
+
+Then, to indicate without any possibility of misunderstanding, that his
+work had been interrupted long enough, Dulkinghorn got up, and, opening
+the sitting-room door, led the way into the hall. As he stood with his
+hand on the latch of the front door, Mary Trevert asked him:
+
+"Is this Mr. Schulz an Englishman?"
+
+"I'll let you into a secret," answered Bulkinghorn; "he _was_. But he
+isn't now! No, no, I can't say anything more. You must work it out for
+yourself. But I will give you a piece of advice. The less you say about
+Mr. William Schulz and about your private affairs generally when you are
+on the other side, the better it will be for you! Good-night--and good
+luck!"
+
+Euan MacTavish escorted Mary to Almond's Hotel.
+
+"I'm very much afraid," he said to her as they walked along, "that
+you're butting that pretty head of yours into a wasps' nest, Mary!"
+
+"Nonsense!" retorted the girl decisively; "I can take care of myself!"
+
+"If I consent to let you go off like this," said Euan, "it is only on
+one condition ... you must tell Lady Margaret where you are going ..."
+
+"That'll spoil everything," answered Mary, pouting; "Mother will want to
+come with me!"
+
+"No, she won't," urged her cousin, "not if I tell her. She'll worry
+herself to death, Mary, if she doesn't know what has become of you.
+You'd better let me ring her up from the club and tell her you're
+running over to Rotterdam for a few days. Look here, I'll tell her
+you're going with me. She'll be perfectly happy if she thinks I'm to be
+with you ..."
+
+On that Mary surrendered.
+
+"Have it your own way," she said.
+
+"I'll pick you up here at a quarter-past nine in the morning," said Euan
+as he bade the girl good-night at her hotel, "then we'll run down to
+the F.O. and collect my bags and go on to the station!"
+
+"Euan," the girl asked as she gave him her hand, "who is this man
+Schulz, do you think?"
+
+The King's messenger leant over and whispered:
+
+"Secret Service!"
+
+"Secret Service!"
+
+The girl repeated the words in a hushed voice.
+
+"Then Mr. Dulkinghorn ... is he ... that too?"
+
+Euan nodded shortly.
+
+"One of their leadin' lights!" he answered.
+
+"But, Euan,"--the girl was very serious now,--"what has the Secret
+Service to do with Hartley Parrish's clients in Holland?"
+
+The King's messenger laid a lean finger along his nose.
+
+"Ah!" he said, "what? That's what is beginning to interest me!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+A WORD WITH MR. JEEKES
+
+Life is like a kaleidoscope, that ingenious toy which was the delight of
+the Victorian nursery. Like the glass fragments in its slide, different
+in colour and shape, men's lives lie about without seeming connection;
+then Fate gives the instrument a shake, and behold! the fragments slide
+into position and form an intricate mosaic....
+
+Mark how Fate proceeded on the wet and raw Sunday evening when Bruce
+Wright, at the instance of Mr. Manderton, quitted Robin Greve's chambers
+in the Temple, leaving his friend and the detective alone together. To
+tell the truth, Bruce Wright was in no mood for facing the provincial
+gloom of a wet Sunday evening in London, nor did he find alluring the
+prospect of a suburban supper-party at the quiet house where he lived
+with his widowed mother and sisters in South Kensington. So, in an
+irresolute, unsettled frame of mind, he let himself drift down the
+Strand unable to bring himself to go home or, indeed, to form any plan.
+
+He crossed Trafalgar Square, a nocturne in yellow and black--lights
+reflected yellow in pavements shining dark with wet--and by and by
+found himself in Pall Mall. Here it was that Fate took a hand. At this
+moment it administered a preliminary jog to the kaleidoscope and brought
+the fragment labelled Bruce Wright into immediate proximity with the
+piece entitled Albert Edward Jeekes.
+
+As Bruce Wright came along Pall Mall, he saw Mr. Jeekes standing on the
+steps of his club. The little secretary appeared to be lost in thought,
+his chin thrust down on the crutch-handle of the umbrella he clutched to
+himself. So absorbed was he in his meditations that he did not observe
+Bruce Wright stop and regard him. It was not until our young man had
+touched him on the arm that he looked up with a start.
+
+"God bless my soul!" he exclaimed, "if it isn't young Wright!"
+
+Now the sight of Jeekes had put a great idea into the head of our young
+friend. He had been more chagrined than he had let it appear to Robin
+Greve at his failure to recover the missing letter from the library at
+Harkings. To obtain the letter--or, at any rate, a copy of it--from
+Jeekes and to hand it to Robin Greve would, thought Bruce, restore his
+prestige as an amateur detective, at any rate in his own eyes. Moreover,
+a chat with Jeekes over the whole affair seemed a Heaven-sent exit from
+the _impasse_ of boredom into which he had drifted this wet Sunday
+evening.
+
+"How are you, Mr. Jeekes?" said Bruce briskly. ("Mr." Jeekes was the
+form of address always accorded to the principal secretary in the
+Hartley Parrish establishment and Bruce resumed it instinctively.) "I
+was anxious to see you. I called in at the club this afternoon. Did you
+get my message?"
+
+The little secretary blinked at him through his _pince-nez_.
+
+"There have been so many messages about this shocking affair that really
+I forget ..."
+
+He sighed heavily.
+
+"Couldn't I come in and have a yarn now?"
+
+Bruce spoke cajolingly. But Mr. Jeekes wrinkled his brow fussily.
+
+There was so much to do; he had had a long day; if Wright would excuse
+him ...
+
+"As a matter of fact," explained Bruce with an eye on his man, "I wanted
+to see you particularly about a letter ..."
+
+"Some other time ... to-morrow ..."
+
+"Written on dark-blue paper ... you know, one of those letters H.P. made
+all the fuss about."
+
+Mr. Jeekes took his _pince-nez_ from his nose, gave the glasses a hasty
+rub with his pocket-handkerchief, and replaced them. He slanted a long
+narrow look at the young man.
+
+Then, "What letter do you mean?" he asked composedly.
+
+"A letter which lay on H.P.'s desk in the library at Harkings when they
+found the body ..."
+
+"There _was_ a letter there then ...?"
+
+"Haven't _you_ got it?"
+
+Jeekes shook his head.
+
+"Come inside for a minute and tell me about this," he said.
+
+He led Bruce into the vast smoking-room of the club. They took seats in
+a distant corner near the blazing fire. The room was practically
+deserted.
+
+Now, Mr. Jeekes's excessive carefulness about money had been a
+long-standing joke amongst his assistants when Bruce Wright had belonged
+to Hartley Parrish's secretarial staff. Thrift had become with him more
+than a habit. It was a positive obsession. It revealed itself in such
+petty meannesses as a perpetual cadging for matches or small change and
+a careful abstention from any offer of hospitality. Never in the whole
+course of his service had Bruce Wright heard of Mr. Jeekes taking
+anybody out to lunch or extending any of the usual hospitalities of
+life. He was not a little surprised, therefore, to hear Jeekes ask him
+what he would take.
+
+Bruce said he would take some coffee.
+
+"Have a liqueur? Have a cigar?" said Jeekes, turning to Bruce from the
+somnolent waiter who had answered the bell.
+
+There was a strange eagerness, a sort of over-done cordiality, in the
+invitation which contrasted so strongly with the secretary's habits that
+Robin felt dimly suspicious. He suddenly formed the idea that Mr. Jeekes
+wanted to pump him. He refused the liqueur, but accepted a cigar. Jeekes
+waited until they had been served and the waiter had withdrawn silently
+into the dim vastness of the great room before he spoke.
+
+"Now, then, young Wright," he said, "what's this about a letter? Tell me
+from the beginning ..."
+
+Bruce told him of the letter from Elias van der Spyck & Co. which Robin
+had seen upon the desk in the library at Harkings, of his (Bruce's)
+journey down to Harkings that afternoon and of his failure to find the
+letter.
+
+"But why do you assume that I've got it?"
+
+There was an air of forced joviality about Mr. Jeekes as he put the
+question which did not in the least, as he undoubtedly intended it
+should, disguise his eagerness. On the contrary, it lent his rather
+undistinguished features an expression of cunning which can only be
+described as knavish. Bruce Wright, who, as will already have been seen,
+was a young man with all his wits about him, did not fail to remark it.
+The result was that he hastily revised an intention half-formed in his
+mind of taking Jeekes a little way into his confidence regarding Robin
+Greve's doubts and suspicions about Hartley Parrish's death.
+
+But he answered the secretary's question readily enough.
+
+"Because Miss Trevert told me you went to the library immediately you
+arrived at Harkings last night. I consequently assumed that you must
+have taken away the letter seen by Robin Greve ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes drew in his breath with a sucking sound. It was a little
+trick of his when about to speak.
+
+"So you saw Miss Trevert at Harkings, eh?"
+
+Bruce laughed.
+
+"I did," he said. "We had quite a dramatic meeting, too--it was like a
+scene from a film!"
+
+And, with a little good-humoured exaggeration, he gave Mr. Jeekes a
+description of his encounter with Mary. And lest it should seem that
+young Wright was allowing Mr. Jeekes to pump him, it should be stated
+that Bruce was well aware of one of the secretary's most notable
+characteristics, a common failing, be it remarked, of the small-minded,
+and that was an overpowering suspicion of anything resembling a leading
+question. In order, therefore, to gain his confidence, he willingly
+satisfied the other's curiosity regarding his visit to Harkings hoping
+thereby to extract some information as to the whereabouts of the letter
+on the slatey-blue paper.
+
+"There was no letter of this description on the desk, you say, when you
+and Miss Trevert looked?" asked Jeekes when Bruce had finished his
+story.
+
+"Nothing but circulars and bills," Bruce replied.
+
+Mr. Jeekes leaned forward and drank off his coffee with a swift
+movement. Then he said carelessly:
+
+"From what you tell me, Miss Trevert would have been perhaps a minute
+alone in the room without your seeing her?"
+
+Bruce agreed with a nod.
+
+Adjusting his _pince-nez_ on his nose the secretary rose to his feet.
+
+"Very glad to have seen you again, Wright," he said, thrusting out a
+limp hand; "must run off now--mass of work to get through ..."
+
+Then Bruce risked his leading question.
+
+"If you haven't got this letter," he observed, "what has become of it?
+Obviously the police are not likely to have taken it because they know
+nothing of its significance ..."
+
+"Quite, quite," answered Mr. Jeekes absently, but without replying to
+the young man's question.
+
+"Why," asked Bruce boldly, "did old H.P. make such a mystery about these
+letters on the slatey-blue paper, Mr. Jeekes?"
+
+The secretary wrinkled up his thin lips and sharp nose into a cunning
+smile.
+
+"When you get to be my age, young Wright," he made answer, "you will
+understand that every man has a private side to his life. And, if you
+have learnt your job properly, you will also know that a private
+secretary's first duty is to mind his own business. About this letter
+now--it's the first I've heard of it. Take my advice and don't bother
+your head about it. _If_ it exists ..."
+
+"But it _does_ exist," broke in Bruce quickly. "Mr. Greve saw it and
+read it himself ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes laughed drily.
+
+"Don't you forget, young Wright," he said, jerking his chin towards the
+youngster in a confidential sort of way, "don't you forget that Mr.
+Greve is anxious to find a plausible motive for Mr. Parrish's suicide.
+People are talking, you understand! That's all I've got to say! Just you
+think it over ..."
+
+Bruce Wright bristled up hotly at this.
+
+"I don't see you have any reason to try and impugn Greve's motive for
+wishing to get at the bottom of this mysterious affair ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes affected to be engrossed in the manicuring of his nails. Very
+intently he rubbed the nails of one hand against the palm of the other.
+
+"No mystery!" he said decisively with a shake of the head: "no mystery
+whatsoever about it, young Wright, except what the amateur detectives
+will try and make it out to be. Or has Mr. Greve discovered a mystery
+already?"
+
+The question came out artfully. But in the quick glance which
+accompanied it, there was an intent watchfulness which startled Bruce
+accustomed as he was to the mild and unemotional ways of the little
+secretary.
+
+"Not that I know of," said Bruce. "Greve is only puzzled like all of us
+that H.P. should have done a thing like this!"
+
+Mr. Jeekes was perfectly impassive again.
+
+"The nerves, young Wright! The nerves!" he said impressively. "Harley
+Street, not Mr. Greve, will supply the motive to this sad affair,
+believe me!"
+
+With that he accompanied the young man to the door of the club and from
+the vestibule watched him sally forth into the rain of Pall Mall.
+
+Then Mr. Jeekes turned to the hall porter.
+
+"Please get me Stevenish one-three-seven," he said, "it's a trunk call.
+Don't let them put you off with 'No reply.' It's Harkings, and they are
+expecting me to ring them. I shall be in the writing room."
+
+When, twenty minutes later, Mr. Jeekes emerged from the trunk call
+telephone box in the club vestibule, his mouth was drooping at the
+corners and his hands trembled curiously. He stood for an instant in
+thought tapping his foot on the marble floor of the deserted hall dimly
+lit by a single electric bulb burning over the hall porter's box. Then
+he went back to the writing-room and returned with a yellow telegram
+form.
+
+"Send a boy down to Charing Cross with that at once, please," he said to
+the night porter.
+
+Fate which had brought Bruce Wright face to face with Mr. Jeekes gave
+the kaleidoscope another jerk that night. As Bruce Wright entered the
+Tube Station at Dover Street to go home to South Kensington, it occurred
+to him that he would ring up Robin Greve at his chambers in the Temple
+and give him an outline of his (Bruce's) talk with Jeekes. Bruce went to
+the public callbox in the station, but the rhythmic "Zoom-er! Zoom-er!
+Zoom-er!" which announces that a number is engaged was all the
+satisfaction he got. The prospect of waiting about the draughty station
+exit did not appeal to him, so he decided to go home and telephone
+Robin, as originally arranged, in the morning.
+
+Just about the time that he made this resolve, Robin in his rooms in the
+Temple was hanging up the receiver of his telephone with a dazed
+expression in his eyes. Mr. Manderton had rung him up with a piece of
+intelligence which fairly bewildered him. It bewildered Mr. Manderton
+also, as the detective was frank enough to acknowledge.
+
+Mary Trevert had gone to Rotterdam for a few days in company with her
+cousin, Major Euan MacTavish. Mr. Manderton had received this
+astonishing information by telephone from Harkings a few minutes before.
+
+"It bothers me properly, Mr. Greve, sir," the detective had added.
+
+"There's only one thing for it, Manderton," Robin had said; "I'll have
+to go after her ..."
+
+"The very thing I was about to suggest myself, Mr. Greve. You're
+unofficial-like and can be more helpful than if we detailed one of our
+own people from the Yard. And with the investigation in its present
+stage I don't reely feel justified in going off on a wild-goose chase
+myself. There are several important enquiries going forward now, notably
+as to where Mr. Parrish bought his pistol. But we certainly ought to
+find out what takes Miss Trevert careering off to Rotterdam in this
+way ..."
+
+"It seems almost incredible," Robin had said, "but it looks to me as
+though Miss Trevert must have found out something about the letter ..."
+
+"Or found it herself ..."
+
+"By Jove! She was in the library when Bruce Wright was there. This
+settles it, Manderton. I must go!"
+
+"Then," said the detective, "I'm going to entrust you with that slotted
+sheet of paper again. For I have an idea, Mr. Greve, that you may get a
+glimpse of that letter before I do. I'll send a messenger round with it
+at once."
+
+Then a difficulty arose. Manderton had not got the girl's address. They
+had no address at Harkings. Nor did he know what train Miss Trevert had
+taken. She might have gone by the 9 P.M. that night. Had Mr. Greve got a
+passport? Yes, Robin had a passport, but it was not vis�ed for Holland.
+That meant he could not leave until the following evening. Then Robin
+had a "brain wave."
+
+"There's an air service to Rotterdam!" he exclaimed. "It doesn't leave
+till noon. A pal of mine went across by it only last week. That will
+leave me time to get my passport stamped at the Dutch Consulate, to
+catch the air mail, and be in Rotterdam by tea-time! And, Manderton, I
+shall go to the Grand Hotel. That's where my friend stopped. Wire me
+there if there's any news ..."
+
+Air travel is so comfortably regulated at the present day that Robin
+Greve, looking back at his trip by air from Croydon Aerodrome to the big
+landing-ground outside Rotterdam, acknowledged that he had more
+excitement in his efforts to stir into action a lethargic Dutch passport
+official in London, so as to enable him to catch the air mail, than in
+the smooth and uneventful voyage across the Channel. He reached
+Rotterdam on a dull and muggy afternoon and lost no time in depositing
+his bag at the Grand Hotel. An enquiry at the office there satisfied him
+that Mary Trevert had not registered her name in the hotel book. Then he
+set out in a taxi upon a dreary round of the principal hotels.
+
+But fate, which loves to make a sport of lovers, played him a scurvy
+trick. In the course of his search it brought Robin to that very hotel
+towards which, at the selfsame moment, Mary Trevert was driving from
+the station. By the time she arrived, Robin was gone and, with despair
+in his heart, had started on a tour of the second-class hotels, checking
+them by the Baedeker he had bought in the Strand that morning. It was
+eight o'clock by the time he had finished. He had drawn a blank.
+
+The sight of a huge, plate-glass-fronted caf� reminded him that in the
+day's rush he had omitted to lunch. So he paid off his taxi and dined
+off succulent Dutch beefsteak, pounded as soft as velvet and swimming
+with butter and served in a bed of deliciously browned 'earth apples,'
+as the Holl�nders call potatoes. The caf� was stiflingly hot; there was
+a large and noisy orchestra in the front part and a vast billiard-saloon
+in the back--a place of shaded lights, clicking balls, and guttural
+exclamations. The heat of the place, the noise and the cries combined
+with the effect of his long journey in the fresh air to make him very
+drowsy. When he had finished dinner he was content to postpone his
+investigations until the morrow and go to bed. Emerging from the caf� he
+found to his relief that his hotel was but a few houses away.
+
+As he sat at breakfast the next morning, enjoying the admirable Dutch
+coffee, he reviewed the situation very calmly but very thoroughly. He
+told himself that he had no indication as to Mary Trevert's business in
+Rotterdam save the supposition that she had found the van der Spyck
+letter and had come to Rotterdam to investigate the matter for herself.
+He realized that the hypothesis was thin, for, in the first place, Mary
+could have no inkling as to the hidden significance of the document,
+and, in the second place, she was undoubtedly under the impression that
+Hartley Parrish was driven to suicide by his (Robin's) threats.
+
+But, in the absence of any other apparent explanation of the girl's
+extraordinary decision to come to Rotterdam, Robin decided he would
+accept the theory that she had come about the van der Spyck letter. How
+like Mary, after all, he mused, self-willed, fearless, independent, to
+rush off to Holland on her own on a quest like this! Where would her
+investigations lead her? To the offices of Elias van der Spyck & Co., to
+be sure! Robin threw his napkin down on the table, thrust back his
+chair, and went off to the hotel porter to locate the address of the
+firm.
+
+The telephone directory showed that the offices were situated in the
+Oranien-Straat, about ten minutes' walk from the hotel, in the business
+quarter of the city round the Bourse. Robin glanced at the clock. It
+was twenty minutes to ten. The principals, he reflected, were not likely
+to be at the office before ten o'clock. It was a fine morning and he
+decided to walk. The hotel porter gave him a few simple directions: the
+gentleman could not miss the way, he said; so Robin started off, hope
+high in his breast of getting a step nearer to the elucidation of the
+mystery of the library at Harkings.
+
+A brisk walk of about ten minutes through the roaring streets of the
+city brought him to a big open square from which, he had been
+instructed, the Oranien-Straat turned off. He was just passing a large
+and important-looking post-office--he remarked it because he looked up
+at a big clock in the window to see the time--when a man came hastily
+through the swing-door and stopped irresolutely on the pavement in
+front, glancing to right and left as a man does who is looking for a
+cab.
+
+At the sight of him Robin could scarcely suppress an expression of
+amazement. It was Mr. Jeekes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+THE MAN WITH THE YELLOW FACE
+
+In a narrow, drowsy side street at Rotterdam, bisected by a somnolent
+canal, stood flush with the red-brick sidewalk a small clean house. Wire
+blinds affixed to the windows of its ground and first floors gave it a
+curious blinking air as though its eyes were only half open. To the neat
+green front door was affixed a large brass plate inscribed with the
+single name: "Schulz."
+
+A large woman, in a pink print dress with a white cloth bound about her
+head, was vigorously polishing the plate as, on the morning following
+her departure from London, Mary Trevert, Dulkinghorn's letter of
+introduction in her pocket, arrived in front of the residence of Mr.
+William Schulz. Euan MacTavish had, on the previous evening, seen her to
+her hotel and had then--very reluctantly, as it seemed to
+Mary--departed to continue his journey to The Hague, his taxi piled high
+with white-and-green Foreign Office bags, heavily sealed with scarlet
+wax.
+
+Mary Trevert approached the woman, her letter of introduction, which
+Dulkinghorn, being an unusual person, had fastened down, in her hand.
+
+"Schulz?" she said interrogatively.
+
+"_Nicht da_," replied the woman without looking up from her rubbing.
+
+"Has he gone out?" asked Mary in English.
+
+"_Verstehe nicht_!" mumbled the woman.
+
+But she put down her cleaning-rag and, breathing heavily, mustered the
+girl with a leisurely stare.
+
+Mary repeated the question in German whereupon the woman brightened up
+considerably.
+
+The _Herr_ was not at home. The _Herr_ had gone out. On business,
+_jawohl_. To the bank, perhaps. But the _Herr_ would be back in time for
+_Mittagessen_ at noon. There was beer soup followed by _Rindfleisch_ ...
+
+Mary hesitated an instant. She was wondering whether she should leave
+her letter of introduction. She decided she would leave it. So she wrote
+on her card: "Anxious to see you as soon as possible" and the name of
+her hotel, and gave it, with the letter, to the woman.
+
+"Please see that Herr Schulz gets that directly he comes in," she said.
+"It is important!"
+
+"_Gut, gut_!" said the woman, wiping her hands on her apron. She took
+the card and letter, and Mary, thanking her, set off to go back to her
+hotel.
+
+About twenty yards from Mr. Schulz's house a narrow alley ran off. As
+Mary turned to regain the little footbridge across the canal to return
+to the noisy street which would take her back to the hotel, she caught
+sight of a man disappearing down this alley.
+
+She only had a glimpse of him, but it was sufficient to startle her
+considerably. He was a small man wearing a tweed cap and a tweed
+travelling ulster of a vivid brown. It was not these details, however,
+which took her aback. It was the fact that in the glimpse she had had of
+the man's face she had seemed to recognize the features of Mr. Albert
+Edward Jeekes.
+
+"What an extraordinary thing!" Mary said to herself. "It _can't_ be Mr.
+Jeekes. But if it is not, it is some one strikingly like him!"
+
+To get another view of the stranger she hurried to the corner of the
+alley. It was a mere thread of a lane, not above six yards wide, running
+between the houses a distance of some sixty yards to the next street.
+But the alley was empty. The stranger had disappeared.
+
+Mary went a little way down the lane. A wooden fence ran down it on
+either side, with doors at intervals apparently giving on the back yards
+of the houses in the street. There was no sign of Mr. Jeekes's double,
+so she retraced her steps and returned to her hotel without further
+incident.
+
+She had not been back more than half an hour when a waiter came in to
+the lounge where she was sitting.
+
+"Miss Trevert?" he said. "Zey ask for you at ze delephone!"
+
+He took her to a cabin under the main staircase.
+
+"This is Miss Trevert speaking!" said Mary.
+
+"I am speaking for Mr. Schulz," a man's voice answered--rather a nasal
+voice with a shade of foreign inflexion--"he has had your letter. He is
+very sorry he has been detained in the country, but would be very glad
+if you would lunch with him to-day at his country-house."
+
+"I shall be very pleased," the girl replied. "Is it far?"
+
+"Only just outside Rotterdam," the voice responded. "Mr. Schulz will
+send the car to the hotel to pick you up at 11.45. The driver will ask
+for you. Is that all right?"
+
+"Certainly," said Mary. "Please thank Mr. Schulz and tell him I will
+expect the car at a quarter to twelve!"
+
+Punctually at the appointed hour an open touring-car drove up to the
+hotel. Mary was waiting at the entrance. The driver was a young Dutchman
+in a blue serge suit. He jumped out and came up to Mary.
+
+"Mees Trevert?" he said.
+
+Mary nodded, whereupon he helped her into the car, then got back into
+the driving-seat and they drove away.
+
+A run of about twenty minutes through trim suburbs brought them out on a
+long straight road, paved with bricks and lined with poplars. The day
+was fine with a little bright sunshine from time to time and a high wind
+which kept the sails of the windmills dotting the landscape turning
+briskly. They followed the road for a bit, then branched off down a side
+turning which led to a black gate. It bore the name "Villa Bergendal" in
+white letters. The gate opened into a short drive fringed by thick
+laurel bushes which presently brought them in view of an ugly square
+red-brick house.
+
+The car drew up at a creeper-hung porch paved in red tiles. The
+chauffeur helped Mary to alight and, pushing open a glass door, ushered
+the girl into a square, comfortably furnished hall. Some handsome
+Oriental rugs were spread about: trophies of native weapons hung on the
+walls, and there were some fine specimens of old Dutch chests and blue
+Delft ware.
+
+The chauffeur led the way across the hall to a door at the far end. As
+Mary followed him, something bright lying on one of the chests caught
+her eye. It was a vivid brown travelling ulster and on it lay a brown
+tweed cap.
+
+Mary Trevert was no fool. She was, on the contrary, a remarkably
+quick-witted young person. The sight of that rather "loud" overcoat
+instantly recalled the stranger so strikingly resembling Mr. Jeekes who
+had disappeared down the lane as she was coming away from Mr. Schulz's
+house. Mr. Jeekes _was_ in Rotterdam then, and had, of course, been sent
+by her mother to look after her. What a fool she had been to allow Euan
+MacTavish to persuade her to tell her mother of her plans!
+
+Mary suddenly felt very angry. How dare Mr. Jeekes spy on her like this!
+She was quite capable, she told herself, of handling her own affairs,
+and she intended to tell the secretary so very plainly. And if, as she
+was beginning to believe, Mr. Schulz were acting hand in glove with Mr.
+Jeekes, she would let him know equally plainly that she had no intention
+of troubling him, but would make her own investigations independently.
+With a heightened colour she followed the chauffeur and passed through
+the door he held open for her.
+
+She found herself in a small, pleasant room with a bright note of colour
+in the royal blue carpet and window-curtains. A log-fire burned
+cheerfully in the fireplace before which a large red-leather
+Chesterfield was drawn up. On the walls hung some good old Dutch prints,
+and there were a couple of bookcases containing books which, by their
+bindings at least, seemed old and valuable.
+
+At the farther end of the room was another door across which a curtain
+of royal blue was drawn. Mary had scarcely entered the room when this
+door opened and a man appeared.
+
+He was carefully dressed in a well-cut suit of some dark material and
+wore a handsome pearl pin in his black tie. He was a dark, sallow type
+of man, his skin yellowed as though from long residence in the tropics.
+A small black moustache, carefully trained outwards from the lips,
+disclosed, as he smiled a greeting at his visitor, a line of broken
+yellow teeth. His hair, which was grizzled at the temples, was black and
+oily and brushed right back off the forehead. With his coarse black
+hair, his sallow skin, and his small beady eyes, rather like a snake's,
+there was something decidedly un-English about him. As Mary Trevert
+looked at him, somewhat taken aback by his sudden appearance, she became
+conscious of a vague feeling of mistrust welling up within her.
+
+The man closed the door behind him and advanced into the room, his hand
+extended. Mary took it. It was dank and cold to the touch.
+
+"A thousand apologies, my dear Miss Trevert," he said in a soft, silky
+voice, a trifle nasal, with a touch of Continental inflexion, "for
+asking you to come out here to see me. The fact is I had an important
+business conference here this morning and I have a second one this
+afternoon. It was materially impossible for me to come into Rotterdam ...
+But I am forgetting my manners. Let me introduce myself. I am
+Mr. Schulz ..."
+
+Mary Trevert looked at him thoughtfully. Was this the friend of Ernest
+Dulkinghorn, the man of confidence to whom he had recommended her? A
+feeling of great uneasiness came over her. She listened. The house was
+absolutely still. From the utter silence enveloping it--for aught she
+knew--she and her unsavoury-looking companion might be the only persons
+in it. And then she realized that, on the faith of a telephone call, she
+had blindly come out to a house, the very address of which was utterly
+unknown to her.
+
+She fought down a sudden sensation of panic that made her want to
+scream, to bolt from the room into the fresh air, anywhere away from
+those snake eyes, that soft voice, that clammy hand. She collected her
+thoughts, remembered that Jeekes must be somewhere in the house, as his
+outdoor things were in the hall. The recollection reminded her of her
+determination to tolerate no interference from Jeekes or her mother.
+
+So she merely answered: "It was no trouble to come," and waited for the
+man to speak again.
+
+He pulled forward the Chesterfield and made her sit down beside him.
+
+"I had the letter of introduction," he said, "and I want you to know
+that my services are entirely at your disposal. Now, what can I do for
+you?"
+
+He looked at the girl intently--rather anxiously, she thought.
+
+"That was explained in the letter," she answered, meeting his gaze
+unflinchingly.
+
+"Yes, yes, of course, I know. I meant in what way do you propose to make
+use of my ... my local knowledge?"
+
+"I will tell you that, Mr. Schulz," Mary Trevert said in a measured
+voice, "when you tell me what you think of the mission which has brought
+me here ..."
+
+The snake's eyes narrowed a little.
+
+"For a young lady to have come out alone to Holland on a mission of this
+description speaks volumes for your pluck and self-reliance, Miss
+Trevert ..."
+
+"I asked you what you thought of my mission to Holland, Mr. Schulz,"
+Mary interposed coldly.
+
+It was beginning to dawn on her that Mr. Schulz did not seem to know
+anything about the object of her visit, but, on the contrary, was
+seeking to elicit this from her by a process of adroit cross-examination.
+She was rather puzzled, therefore, but also somewhat relieved
+when he said:
+
+"I can give my opinion better after you have shown me the letter ..."
+
+"What letter?" said the girl.
+
+"The letter from Elias van der Spyck and Company, to be sure," retorted
+the other quickly.
+
+Mary dipped her hand into her black fox muff. Then she hesitated. She
+could not rid herself of the suspicion that this man with the sallow
+face and the yellow fangs was not to be trusted. She withdrew her hand.
+
+"This is a very delicate matter, Mr. Schulz," she said. "Our appointment
+was made by telephone, and I think therefore I should ask you to show me
+Mr. Dulkinghorn's letter of introduction before I go any further, so
+that I may feel quite sure in my mind that I am dealing with one in whom
+I know Mr. Dulkinghorn to have every confidence ..."
+
+Mr, Schulz's yellow face went a shade yellower. His mouth twisted itself
+into a wry smile, his thin lips fleshing his discoloured teeth. He
+stood up rather stiffly.
+
+"You are a guest in my house, Miss Trevert," he said with offended
+dignity, "I scarcely expected you to impugn my good faith. Surely my
+word is sufficient ..."
+
+He turned his back on her and took a couple of paces into the room in
+apparent vexation. Then he returned and stood at the back of the
+Chesterfield behind her. His feet made no sound on the thick carpet, but
+some vague instinct made Mary Trevert turn her head. She saw him
+standing there, twisting his hands nervously behind his back.
+
+"Surely my word is sufficient ..." he repeated.
+
+"In business," said Mary boldly, "one cannot be too careful."
+
+"Besides," Mr. Schulz urged, "this was a private letter which Mr. ...
+Mr. Dulkinghorn certainly did not expect you to see. That makes
+it awkward ..."
+
+"I think in the circumstances," said Mary, "I must insist, Mr. Schulz!"
+
+She was now feeling horribly frightened. She strained her ears in vain
+for a sound. The whole house seemed wrapped in a grave-like quiet. The
+smile had never left Mr. Schulz's face. But it was a cruel, wolfish grin
+without a ray of kindliness in it. The girl felt her heart turn cold
+within her every time her eyes fell on the mask-like face.
+
+Mr. Schulz shrugged shoulders.
+
+"Since you insist ..." he remarked. "But I think it is scarcely fair on
+our friend Dulkinghorn. The letter is in the safe in my office next
+door. If you come along I will get it out and show it to you ..."
+
+He spoke unconcernedly, but stiffly, as though to emphasize the slight
+put upon his dignity. One hand thrust jauntily in his jacket pocket, he
+stepped across the carpet to the door with the blue curtain. He opened
+it, then stood back for the girl to pass in before him.
+
+"After you!" he said.
+
+He had placed himself so close to the doorway that the black fox about
+her neck brushed his face as she passed. Suddenly a warm, sickly whiff
+of some sweet-smelling odour came to her. She stopped on the instant,
+irresolute, alarmed. Then a dank hand was clapped on her face, covering
+nostrils and mouth with a soft cloth reeking with a horrible cloying
+drug. An arm with muscles like steel was passed round her waist and held
+her in a vice-like grip against which she struggled in vain. She felt
+her senses slipping, slipping ...
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+TWO'S COMPANY ...
+
+On the pavement opposite the post-office stood one of those high pillars
+which are commonly used in Continental cities for the display of theatre
+and concert advertisements. Robin instantly stepped behind it. It was
+not that he wished to avoid being seen by Jeekes as much as that he had
+not decided in his mind what course he had best pursue. From behind the
+cover of the pillar he mustered his man.
+
+The little secretary looked strange and unfamiliar in a sporting sort of
+travelling ulster of a tawny brown hue and a cap of the same stuff. But
+there was no mistaking the watery eyes, the sharp nose, the features. He
+had obviously not seen Robin. His whole attention was rivetted on the
+street. He kept peering nervously to right and left as though expecting
+some one.
+
+Suddenly he stepped forward quickly to the kerb. Then Robin saw an open
+car detach itself from the press of traffic in the square and, driven
+very fast, approach the post-office. It was a large car with a grey
+body; a sallow man wearing a black felt hat sat at the wheel. The car
+drew up at the kerb and halted within a few feet of the advertisement
+pillar. Robin backed hastily round it to escape observation. He had
+resolved to do nothing until he had ascertained who Jeekes's friend was
+and what business the secretary had with him.
+
+"It's all right," Robin heard the man in the car say in English; "I
+telephoned the girl and she's coming. What a piece of luck, eh?"
+
+Robin heard the click of the car door as it swung open.
+
+"... better get along out there at once," he heard the man in the car
+say, "I'm sending Jan in the car for her at ..."
+
+Then Robin stepped out unexpectedly from behind his pillar and cannoned
+into Mr. Jeekes, who was just entering the car.
+
+"Good-morning," said Robin with easy assurance; "I'm delighted to hear
+that you've found Miss Trevert, Jeekes, for, to tell the truth, I was
+feeling somewhat uneasy about her ..."
+
+The secretary's face was a study. The surprise of seeing Robin, who had
+dropped, it seemed to him, out of the clouds into the city of Rotterdam,
+deprived him of speech for an instant. He blinked his eyes, looked this
+way and that, and finally, with a sort of blind gesture, readjusted his
+_pince-nez_ and glared at the intruder.
+
+Then, without a word, he got into the car. But Robin, with a firm hand,
+stayed the door which Jeekes would have closed behind him.
+
+"Excuse me," Robin remarked decidedly, "but I'm coming with you if your
+friend"--at this he looked at the man in the driving-seat--"has no
+objection ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes cast a frightened glance at the sallow man.
+
+The latter said impatiently:
+
+"We're wasting time, Jeekes. Who is this gentleman?"
+
+"This is Mr. Greve," said the little secretary hurriedly, "a friend of
+Mr. Parrish and Miss Trevert. He was staying in the house at the time of
+the tragedy. He has, I understand, taken a prominent part in the
+investigations as to the motive of our poor friend's sad end ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes looked to Robin as he said this as though for confirmation.
+The man at the driving-wheel turned and gave the little secretary a
+quick glance. Then he mustered Robin with a slow, insolent stare. He had
+a yellow face and small black eyes quick and full of intelligence.
+
+Then he bowed.
+
+"My name is Victor," he said. "The sad news about Mr. Parrish was a
+great shock to me. I met him several times in London. Were you anxious
+to see Miss ... er ... Trevert? She has come to Rotterdam (so my friend
+Jeekes tells me) to look into certain important business transactions
+which the late Mr. Parrish had in hand at the time of his death. Did I
+understand you to say that you were uneasy about this lady? Is there any
+mystery about her journey?..."
+
+For the moment Robin felt somewhat abashed. The question was rather a
+poser. Was there, in effect, any mystery about Mary's trip to Rotterdam
+accompanied by her cousin? She had acquainted her people at Harkings
+with her plans. What if, after all, everything was open and above-board,
+and she had merely come to Rotterdam on business? It seemed difficult to
+believe. Surely in such a case the solicitor, Bardy, would have been the
+more suitable emissary ...
+
+"You'll forgive us, I'm sure," the yellow-faced man remarked suavely,
+"but we're in a great hurry. Would you mind closing that door?..."
+
+Robin closed the door. But he got into the car first. As he had stood on
+the pavement in doubt, the recollection of Jeekes's inexplicable lie
+about the payments made by Parrish for the French lady in the Mayfair
+flat came back to him and deepened the suspicion in his mind. It would
+in any case, he told himself, do no harm to find out who this rather
+unsavoury-looking Rotterdam friend of Jeekes's was ...
+
+So Robin jumped into the car and sat down on the back seat next to the
+secretary.
+
+"It happens," he said, "that I am particularly anxious to see Miss
+Trevert. As I gather you are going to meet her, I feel sure you won't
+mind my accompanying you ..."
+
+The yellow-faced man turned with an easy smile.
+
+"Sorry," he said, "but we are having a meeting with Miss Trevert on
+private business and I'm afraid we cannot take you along. Jeekes here,
+however, could take a message to Miss Trevert and if she _wanted_ to see
+you ..."
+
+He broke off significantly and smiled slily at the secretary. Robin felt
+himself flush. So Jeekes had been telling tales out of school to Mr.
+Victor, had he? The young man squared his jaw. That settled it. He would
+stay.
+
+"I promise not to butt in on your private business," he replied, "but I
+simply must see Miss Trevert before I go back to London. So, if you
+don't mind, I think I'll come along ..."
+
+The yellow-faced man glanced at his wrist watch.
+
+"I can't prevent you!" he exclaimed. Then he rapped out something in
+Dutch to Jeekes. The secretary leaned forward to catch the remark. The
+yellow-faced man threw in the clutch.
+
+"Goed!" (good), answered Jeekes in the same language, and resumed his
+seat as the car glided smoothly away from the kerb into the traffic of
+the busy square. Robin settled himself back in the seat with an
+inaudible sigh of satisfaction. He did not like the look of Jeekes's
+companion, he told himself, and Mr. Victor, whoever he was, had
+certainly manifested no great desire for Robin's company. But he was
+going to see Mary. That was all that counted for the moment.
+
+They threaded their way through the streets in silence. It passed
+through Robin's mind to start a discussion with Jeekes about the death
+of Hartley Parrish. But in the circumstances he conceived it might
+easily assume a controversial character, and he did not want to take any
+risk of jeopardizing his chance of meeting Mary again. And no other
+subject of conversation occurred to him. He did not know Jeekes at all
+well, knew him in fact only as a week-end guest knows the private
+secretary of his host, a shadowy personality, indispensable and part of
+the household, but scarcely more than a name ...
+
+The car had put on speed as they left the more crowded streets and
+emerged into the suburbs. Now they were running over a broad straight
+main road lined with poplars. Robin wondered whither they were bound.
+He was about to put the question to the secretary when the man Victor
+turned his head and said over his shoulder:
+
+"_Nu_!"
+
+At the same moment the speed of the car sensibly diminished.
+
+Jeekes put his arm across the young man at his side.
+
+"That door," he said, touching his sleeve, "doesn't seem to be properly
+shut. Would you mind ..."
+
+Robin pushed the door with his hand.
+
+"It seems all right," he said.
+
+"Permit me ..."
+
+The secretary stretched across and pulled back the latch, releasing the
+door. It swung out.
+
+"Now close it," said Mr. Jeekes.
+
+The door was flapping to and fro with the swaying of the car over the
+rough road and Robin had to half rise in order to comply with the
+request. He was leaning forward, steadying himself with one hand
+grasping the back of the driving-seat, when he received a tremendous
+shove in the back. At the same moment the car seemed to leap forward: he
+made a desperate effort to regain his balance, failed, and was whirled
+out head foremost on to the side of the road.
+
+Fortunately for himself he fell soft. The road ran here through a
+little wood of young oak and beech which came right down to the edge of
+the _chauss�e_. The ground was deep in withered leaves which, with the
+rain and the water draining from the road's high camber, were soft and
+soggy. Robin went full length into this muss with a thud that shook
+every bone in his body. His left leg, catching in a bare gorse-bush,
+acted as a brake and stopped him from rolling farther. He sat up, his
+mouth full of mud and his hair full of wet leaves, and felt himself
+carefully over. He contemplated rather ruefully a long rent in the left
+leg of his trousers just across the knee.
+
+"Jeekes!" he murmured; "he pushed me out! The dirty dog!"
+
+Then he remembered that, with the men in the car gone, he had lost trace
+again of Mary Trevert. His forcible ejection from the car was evidence
+enough of their determination to deal with Mary without interference
+from outside. It looked ominous. Robin sprang to his feet and rushed to
+the middle of the road.
+
+The _chauss�e_ was absolutely empty. About a hundred yards from where he
+stood in the direction in which the car had been travelling the road
+made a sharp bend to the right, thus curtailing his view. Robin did not
+hesitate. Not waiting to retrieve his hat or even to wipe the mud from
+his face, he started off at a brisk run along the road in the direction
+in which the car had disappeared. He had not gone far before he found
+that his heavy overcoat was seriously impeding him. He stripped it off
+and, folding it, hid it beneath a bush just inside the plantation. Then
+he ran on again.
+
+Fresh disappointment awaited him when he rounded the bend in the road. A
+few hundred yards on the road turned again. There was no sign of the
+car. A cart piled high with manure was approaching, the driver, wearing
+wooden shoes and cracking at intervals a huge whip, trudging at the
+side.
+
+Robin stopped him.
+
+"Motor-car? Automobile?" he asked pointing in the direction from which
+the cart had come. The driver stared at him with a look of owlish
+stupidity.
+
+"Automobile?" repeated Robin. "Tuff-Tuff?"
+
+Very slowly a grin suffused the carter's grimy face. He showed a row of
+broken black teeth. A tiny stream of saliva escaped from the corner of
+his mouth and trickled over the reddish stubble on his chin. Then he
+continued his way, turning his head every now and then to display his
+idiot's grin.
+
+"Damnation!" exclaimed Robin, starting to run again. "Not a soul to ask
+in this accursed desert except the village idiot! Oh! that Jeekes! I'll
+wring his blinking neck when I get hold of him!"
+
+He was furious with himself for the abject way in which he had been
+fooled. The man Victor had given Jeekes his orders in Dutch and had
+purposely picked a soft spot on the roadside and slowed down the car in
+order that the unwelcome intruder might be ejected as safely as
+possible. And to think that Robin had blandly allowed Jeekes to open the
+door and throw him out on the road!
+
+He was round the second bend now. The sun was shining with a quite
+respectable warmth and the steamy air made him desperately hot. The
+perspiration rolled off his face. But he never slackened his gait. Robin
+knew these Continental roads and their habit of running straight. He
+reckoned confidently on presently coming upon a long stretch where he
+might discern the car.
+
+He was not deceived. After the second bend the _chauss�e_, just as he
+anticipated, straightened out and ran clear away between an
+ever-narrowing double line of poplars to become a bluish blob on the
+horizon. But of the car nothing was to be seen.
+
+For the second time Robin pulled up. He took serious counsel with
+himself. He estimated that he could see for about three miles along the
+road. Less than three minutes had elapsed since his misadventure, and
+therefore he was confident that the car should yet be in sight, unless
+it had left the road, for it could not have warmed up to a speed
+exceeding sixty miles an hour in the time. There was no sign of the car
+on the road, consequently it must have left it. Robin had passed no side
+roads between the scene of the accident and the second bend; therefore,
+he argued, he had the car before him still. He would go on.
+
+When he started off for the third time, it was at a brisk walking pace.
+As he went he kept a sharp lookout to right and left of the road for any
+trace of the car. It never occurred to him that to follow on foot a
+swift car bound for an unknown destination was the maddest kind of
+wild-goose chase. He was profoundly uneasy about Mary, but at the same
+time immeasurably angered by the trick played upon him--angered not so
+much against Jeekes as against the sallow-faced man whom he recognized
+as its inceptor. He had no thought for anything else.
+
+The flat Dutch landscape stretched away on either side of the road. A
+windmill or two, the inevitable irrigation canals with their little
+sluices, and an occasional tree alone broke the monotony of the scene.
+But away to the right Robin noticed a clump of trees which, he surmised,
+might conceivably enclose a house.
+
+As he walked, he scrutinized the roadway for any track of a car. But on
+the hard brick _pav�_ wheels left no mark. The first side road he came
+to was likewise paved in brick. In grave perplexity Robin came to a
+halt.
+
+Then his eye fell upon a puddle. It lay on the edge of the footpath
+bordering the _chauss�e_ about five yards beyond the turning. The soft
+mud which skirted it showed the punched-out pattern of a studded tyre!
+The car had not taken this side road, at any rate. It had probably
+pulled over on to the footpath to pass the manure cart which Robin had
+met. He pushed on again valiantly.
+
+Another hundred yards brought him to a second side road. There was no
+_pav�_ here, but a soft sandy surface. And it bore, clearly imprinted in
+the mud, the fresh tracks of a car as it had turned off the road.
+
+Breaking into a run Robin followed the track down the turning. It led
+him to a black gate beyond which was a twisting gravel drive fringed
+with high laurels. And the gravel showed the same tyre marks as the
+road.
+
+He vaulted the gate lightly and ran up the drive. He was revolving in
+his head what his next move should be. Should he walk boldly into the
+house and confront Jeekes and his rascally looking companion or should
+he first spy out the ground and try to ascertain whether Mary had
+arrived? He decided on the latter course.
+
+Accordingly, when an unexpected turn of the drive brought him in view of
+a white porch, he left the avenue and took cover behind the laurel
+bushes. Walking softly on the wet grass and keeping well down behind the
+laurels, he went forward parallel with the drive. It ran into a clean
+courtyard with a coachhouse or garage on one side and a small green
+door, seemingly a side entrance into the house, on the other.
+
+There was no one in the courtyard and the house seemed perfectly quiet.
+From his post of observation behind the laurels, Robin observed that a
+tall window beside the green door commanded the view across the
+courtyard. He therefore retraced his steps by the way he had come. When
+he was past the corner of the house, he returned to the drive and
+keeping close to the bushes walked quietly into the courtyard. There,
+hugging the wall, he crept round past the closed doors of the garage
+until he found himself beside the tall window adjoining the green door.
+
+The window was open a few inches at the top. From within the sound of
+voices reached him. Jeekes was speaking. Robin recognized his rather
+grating voice at once.
+
+"... no more violence," he was saying; "first Greve and now the girl. I
+don't like your methods, Victor ..."
+
+Very cautiously Robin dropped on one knee and shuffled forward in this
+position until his eyes were on a level with the window-sill. He found
+himself looking into a narrow room, well lighted by a second window at
+the farther end. It was apparently an office, for there was a high desk
+running down the centre and a large safe occupied a prominent place
+against the wall.
+
+Jeekes and the man Victor stood chatting at the desk. The yellow-faced
+man was grinning sardonically.
+
+"Parrish don't like your methods, I'll be bound," he retorted. "Don't
+you worry about the little lady, Jeekes! Bless your heart, I won't hurt
+her unless ..."
+
+The loud throbbing of a car at the front of the house made Robin duck
+his head hastily. The car, he guessed, might be round at the garage any
+moment and it would not do for him to be discovered. He got clear of the
+window, rose to his feet, and tiptoed round the house by the way he had
+come. Then he crossed the drive and regained the shelter of the laurels.
+Crawling along until he came level with the porch, he peeped through.
+
+Mary Trevert was just entering the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+THE METAMORPHOSIS OF MR. SCHULZ
+
+As the girl collapsed, the yellow-faced man, with an adroit movement,
+whisked the handkerchief off her face and crammed it into his pocket.
+Then, while he supported her with one arm, with the other he thrust at
+the door to close it. Without paying further attention to it, he turned
+and, bending down, lifted the girl without an effort off her feet and
+carried her across the room to the Chesterfield, upon which he laid her
+at full length. Then he seized her muff, which dangled from her neck by
+a thin platinum chain.
+
+Suddenly he heard the door behind him creak. In a flash he remembered
+that he had not heard the click of the lock as he had thrust the door
+to. He was springing erect when a firm hand gripped him by the back of
+the collar and pulled him away from the couch. He staggered back,
+striving to regain his balance, but then a savage shove flung him head
+foremost into the fireplace. He fell with a crash among the fire-irons.
+But he was on his feet again in an instant.
+
+He saw a tall, athletic-looking young man standing at the couch. He had
+a remarkably square jaw; his eyes were shining and he breathed heavily.
+He wore a blue serge suit which was heavily besmeared with white plaster
+and the trousers were rent across one knee. Straight at his throat
+sprang the yellow-faced man.
+
+Something struck him halfway. The young man had waited composedly for
+his coming, but as his assailant advanced, had shot out his left hand.
+There was a sharp crack and the yellow-faced man, reeling, dropped face
+downwards on the carpet without a sound. In his fall his foot caught a
+small table on which a vase of chrysanthemums stood, and the whole thing
+went over with a loud crash. He made a spasmodic effort to rise, hoisted
+himself on to his knees, swayed again, and then collapsed full length on
+the floor, where he lay motionless.
+
+The sound of the fall seemed to awaken the girl. She stirred uneasily
+once or twice.
+
+"What ... what is it?" she muttered, and was still again.
+
+Bending down, the young man gathered her up in his arms and bore her out
+through the door with the blue curtain, through a plainly furnished sort
+of office with high desks and stools, and out by a side door into a
+paved yard. There an open car was standing. The fresh air seemed to
+revive the girl further. As the young man laid her on the seat, she
+struggled up into a sitting position and passed her hand across her
+forehead.
+
+"What is the matter with me?" she said in a dazed voice; "I feel so
+ill!"
+
+Then, catching sight of the young man as he peered into her face, she
+exclaimed:
+
+"Robin!"
+
+"Thank God, you're all right, Mary," said Robin. "We've not got a moment
+to lose. We must get away from here quick!"
+
+He was at the bonnet cranking up the car. But the engine, chilled by the
+cold air, refused to start. As he was straining at the handle, a man
+dashed suddenly into the yard by the office door.
+
+It was Jeekes. The little secretary was a changed man. He still wore his
+_pince-nez_. But his mild air had utterly forsaken him. His face was
+livid, the eyes bulged horribly from his head, and his whole body was
+trembling with emotion. In his hand he held an automatic pistol. He came
+so fast that he was at the car and had covered Robin with his weapon
+before the other had seen him come.
+
+Mr. Jeekes left Robin no time to act. He called out in a voice that rang
+like a pistol shot:
+
+"Hands up, Mr. Smartie! Quick, d'you hear? Put 'em up, damn you!"
+
+Slowly, defiantly the young man raised his arms above his head.
+
+Mr. Jeekes stood close to the driver's seat, having prudently put the
+car between himself and Robin. As he stood there, his automatic levelled
+at the young man, a remarkable thing happened. A black, soft surface
+suddenly fell over his face and was pulled back with a brisk tug. Mary
+Trevert, standing up in the back seat of the car, had flung her fur over
+the secretary's head from behind and caught him in a noose. Before Mr.
+Jeekes could disentangle himself, Robin was at his throat and had borne
+him to the ground. The pistol was knocked skilfully from his hand and
+fell clattering on the flags. Robin pounced down on it. Then for the
+first time he smiled, a sunny smile that lit up his blue eyes.
+
+"Bravo, Mary!" he said. "That _was_ an idea! Now, then, Jeekes," he
+ordered, "crank up that car. And be quick about it! We want to be off!"
+
+The little secretary was a lamentable sight. He was bleeding from a cut
+on the forehead, his clothes were covered with dust, and his glasses had
+been broken in his fall. Peering helplessly about him, he walked to the
+bonnet of the car and sullenly grasped the handle. The smile had left
+Robin's face, and Mary noticed that he looked several times anxiously at
+the office door.
+
+And then suddenly the engine bit. Handing the pistol to the girl, Robin
+warned her to keep the secretary covered and, leaping into the
+driving-seat, turned the car into the avenue which curved round the
+house.
+
+Mr. Jeekes made no further show of fight. He remained standing in the
+centre of the courtyard, a ludicrous, rather pathetic, figure. As the
+tyres of the car gritted on the gravel of the drive, the office door was
+flung open and the yellow-faced man ran out, brandishing a big revolver.
+
+"Stop!" he shouted and levelled his weapon. The car seemed to leap
+forward and took the sharp turn on two wheels just as the man fired. The
+bullet struck the wall of the house and sent up a shower of plaster.
+Before he could fire again the car was round the house and out of sight.
+But as the car whizzed round the turn an instant before the yellow-faced
+man fired, the girl heard a sharp cry from Jeekes:
+
+"Don't, Victor ...!"
+
+The rest of the sentence was lost in the roar of the engine as the car
+raced away down the drive.
+
+They left the avenue in a splutter of wet gravel. The gate still stood
+open. They wheeled furiously into the side road and regained the
+_chauss�e_. As yet there was no sign of pursuit. The car rocked
+dangerously over the broken _pav�_, so Robin, after a glance behind,
+steadied her down to an easier pace. Mary, who looked very pale and ill,
+was lying back on the back seat with her eyes closed.
+
+They ran easily into Rotterdam as, with a terrific jangle of tunes
+played jerkily on the chimes, the clocks were striking two. Robin slowed
+down as they approached the centre of the city.
+
+"Where are you staying, Mary?" he asked.
+
+He had to repeat the question several times before she gave him the
+address. Then he found himself in a quandary. He was in a strange town
+and did not know a word of the language so as to be able to ask the way.
+However, he solved the difficulty without great trouble. He beckoned to
+a newspaper boy on the square outside the Bourse and, holding up a
+two-gulden piece, indicated by signs that he desired him as a guide. The
+boy comprehended readily enough and, springing on the footboard of the
+car, brought them safely to the hotel.
+
+Robin left Mary and the car in charge of the boy and went to the office
+and asked to see the manager. He had decided upon the story he must
+tell.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he said, when the manager, a blond and suave Swiss, had
+presented himself, "has been to the dentist and has been rather upset by
+the gas. Would you get one of the maids to help her up to her room and
+in the meantime telephone for a doctor. If there is an English doctor in
+Rotterdam, I should prefer to have him!"
+
+The manager clicked in sympathy. He despatched a lady typist and a
+chambermaid to help Mary out of the car.
+
+"For a doctor," he said, "it ees fortunate. We 'ave an English doctor
+staying in ze hotel now--a sheep's doctor. He is in ze lounge. Eef you
+come, _hein?_"
+
+The "sheep's doctor" proved to be a doctor off one of the big liners, a
+clean-shaven, red-faced, hearty sort of person who readily volunteered
+his services. As Robin was about to follow him into the lift, the
+manager stopped him.
+
+"Zere was a shentleman call to see Mees Trevert," he said, "two or three
+time 'e been 'ere ... a Sherman shentleman. 'E leave 'er a note ... will
+you take it?"
+
+Greatly puzzled, Robin Greve balanced in his hands the letter which
+the manager produced from a pigeon-hole. Then he tore open the envelope.
+
+  DEAR MISS TREVERT [he read], I was extremely
+  sorry to miss you this morning. Directly I received
+  your message I called at your hotel, but, though I
+  have been back twice, I have not found you in.
+  Circumstances have arisen which make it imperative that
+  I should see you as soon as possible. This is _most
+  urgent_. I will come back at four o'clock, as I cannot
+  get away before. Do not leave the hotel _on any pretext_
+  until you have seen me and Dulkinghorn's letter as
+  identification. You are in _grave danger_.
+
+The note was signed "W. Schulz."
+
+"H'm," was Robin's comment; "he writes like an Englishman, anyway."
+
+He ascertained the number of Mary Trevert's room and went up to her
+floor in the lift. He waited in the corridor outside the room for the
+doctor to emerge, and lit a cigarette to while away the time. It was not
+until he had nearly finished his second cigarette that the doctor
+appeared.
+
+The doctor hesitated on seeing Robin. Then he stepped close up to him.
+Robin noticed that his red face was more flushed than usual and his eyes
+were troubled.
+
+"What's this cock-and-bull story about gas you've put up to the
+manager?" he said bluntly in a low voice. "The girl's been doped with
+chloroform, as well you know. You'll be good enough to come downstairs
+to the manager with me ..."
+
+Robin took out his note-case and produced a card.
+
+"That's my name," he said. "You'll see that I'm a barrister ..."
+
+"Well?" said the doctor in a non-committal voice after he had read the
+card.
+
+"I'm not surprised to hear you say that Miss Trevert has been doped,"
+Robin remarked. "I found her here in a house on the outskirts of
+Rotterdam in the hands of two men, one of whom is believed to be
+implicated in a mysterious case of suspected murder in England. Through
+the part he played this morning, he has probably run his head into the
+noose. But he'll have it out again if we delay an instant. I told the
+manager that yarn about the dentist to avoid enquiries and waste of
+time. I have here a note from some man I don't know, addressed to Miss
+Trevert, warning her of a grave danger threatening her. It corroborates
+to some extent what I have told you. Here ... read it for yourself!"
+
+He handed the doctor the note signed "W. Schulz."
+
+The doctor read it through carefully.
+
+"What I would propose to you," said Robin, "is that we two should go off
+at once to this Herr Schulz and find out exactly what he knows. Then we
+can decide what action there is to be taken ..."
+
+He paused for the doctor's reply. The latter searched Robin's face with
+a glance.
+
+"I'm your man," he said shortly. "And, by the way, my name's
+Collingwood ... Robert Collingwood."
+
+"There's a car downstairs," said Robin, "and a guide to show us the way.
+Shall we go?"
+
+Five minutes later, under the newsboy's expert guidance, the car drew up
+in front of the small clean house with the neat green door bearing the
+name of "Schulz." Leaving the boy to mind the car, they rang the bell.
+The door was opened by the fat woman in the pink print dress.
+
+Robin gave the woman his card. On it he had written "About Miss
+Trevert." Speaking in German the woman bade them rather roughly to bide
+where they were, and departed after closing the front door in their
+faces. She did not keep them waiting long, however, for in about a
+minute she returned. Herr Schulz would receive the gentlemen, she said.
+
+Within, the house was spotlessly clean with that characteristic German
+house odour which always seems to be a compound of cleaning material and
+hot grease. Up a narrow staircase, furnished in plain oil-cloth with
+brass stair-rods, they went to a landing on the first floor. Here the
+woman motioned them back and, bending her head in a listening attitude,
+knocked.
+
+"_Herein_!" cried a guttural German voice.
+
+The room into which they entered would have been entitled to a place in
+any museum for showing the mode of life of the twentieth-century
+Germans. With its stuffy red rep curtains, its big green majolica stove,
+its heavy mahogany furniture, its oleographs of Bismarck, Roon, and
+Moltke, it might have been lifted bodily from a bourgeois house in the
+Fatherland.
+
+A man was sitting at a mahogany roll-top desk as they entered. The air
+in the room was thick with the fumes of the cheap Dutch cigar he was
+smoking. He was a sturdily built fellow with blond hair shaven so close
+to the skull that at a distance he seemed to be bald.
+
+At the sound of their entrance, he rose and faced them. When he stood
+erect the sturdiness of his build became accentuated, and they saw he
+was a man of medium height, but so muscular that he looked much shorter.
+A pair of large tortoise-shell spectacles straddled a big beak-like
+nose, and he wore a heavyish blond moustache with its points trained
+upwards and outwards rather after the fashion made famous in the
+Fatherland by William Hohenzollern. In his ill-cut suit of cheap-looking
+blue serge, which he wore with a pea-green tie, Robin thought he looked
+altogether a typical specimen of the German of the non-commissioned
+officer class.
+
+"You ask for me?" he said in deep guttural accents, looking at Robin;
+"I am Herr Schulz!"
+
+The German's manner was cold and formal and Robin felt a little dashed.
+
+"My name is Greve," he began rather hurriedly. "I understand you
+received a visit to-day from a young English lady, a Miss Trevert ..."
+
+The German let his eyes travel slowly from Robin to the doctor and back
+again. He did not offer them a chair and all three remained standing.
+
+"Ye-es, and what if I did?"
+
+Robin felt his temper rising.
+
+"You wrote a note to Miss Trevert at her hotel warning her that she was
+in danger. I want to know why you warned her. What led you to suppose
+that she was threatened?"
+
+Herr Schulz made a little gesture of the hand.
+
+"Wass I not right to warn her?"
+
+"Indeed, you were," Robin asserted with conviction. "She was spirited
+away and drugged."
+
+The German started. A frowning pucker appeared just above the bridge of
+his big spectacles and he raised his head quickly,
+
+"Drugged?" he said.
+
+"Certainly," said Robin. "This gentleman with me is a doctor ... Dr.
+Robert Collingwood, of the Red Lion Line. He has examined Miss Trevert
+and can corroborate my statement."
+
+"By Gad!" exclaimed Herr Schulz--and this time his English was
+faultless and fluent--"Shut that door behind you, Mr. Greve, and shoot
+the bolt--that's it just below the knob! Sit down, sit down, and while I
+mix you a drink, you shall tell me about this!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+THE READING OP THE RIDDLE
+
+In uttering those words Herr Schulz seemed suddenly to become
+loose-limbed and easy. His plethoric rigidity of manner vanished, and,
+though he spoke with a brisk air of authority, there was a jovial ring
+in his voice which instantly inspired confidence. With the change the
+illusion supported by his appalling clothes was broken and he looked
+like a man dressed up for charades.
+
+"Are you--English?" asked Robin in astonishment.
+
+"Only in this room," was the dry reply, "and don't you or our friend,
+the doctor, here forget it. You'll both take whisky? Three fingers will
+do you good, Mr. Greve, for I see you've had a roughish time this
+morning. Say when!"
+
+He spurted a siphon into three glasses.
+
+"Before we go any farther," he went on, "perhaps I had better identify
+myself--to save any further misunderstandings, don't you know? Do either
+of you gentlemen happen to know a party called Dulkinghorn? You may have
+heard of him, Mr. Greve, for I can see you have been in the army ..."
+
+"Not Ernest Dulkinghorn, of the War Office?" asked Robin.
+
+"The identical party!"
+
+"I never met him," said Robin. "But I was at the War Office for a bit
+before I was demobilized and I heard fellows speak of him.
+Counter-espionage, isn't he?"
+
+"That's right," nodded Herr Schulz. "You can read his letter to me
+introducing Miss Trevert."
+
+He handed a sheet of paper to Robin.
+
+  DEAR SCHULZ [it ran], Victor Marbran's push appear
+  to be connected with Hartley Parrish, who has
+  just met his death under suspicious circumstances.
+  You will have read about it in the English papers.
+  Miss Trevert was engaged to H.P. and has a letter
+  from Elias van der Spyck and Company which she
+  found on Parrish's desk after his death. I should say
+  that the Marbran-Parrish connection would repay investigation.
+
+                        Yours
+
+                           E. DULKINGHORN
+
+  P.S. The letter is, of course, in conventional code.
+
+  P.P.S. Don't frighten the life out of the Trevert
+  girl, you unsympathetic brute!
+
+Robin read the letter through to the end.
+
+"Then Mary Trevert has this letter from Rotterdam which we have been
+hunting for!" he cried. "Have you seen it?"
+
+Herr Schulz shook his head.
+
+"Miss Trevert called here this morning," he said, "when I was out. She
+gave her letter to Frau Wirth, my housekeeper, with her card and
+address. Frau Wirth was cleaning the plate on the front door and, a
+moment after Miss Trevert had gone, a fellow appeared and said he was a
+friend of Miss Trevert who had made a mistake and left the wrong letter.
+My housekeeper is well trained and wouldn't give the letter up. But she
+made the fatal mistake of telling the fellow exactly what he wanted to
+know, and that was who the letter was addressed to. 'The letter is
+addressed to Herr Schulz,' said this excellent woman, 'and if there's
+any mistake he will find it out when he opens it.' And with that she
+told him to clear out. Which, having got all he wanted, he was glad
+enough to do!"
+
+"What was this chap like?" asked Robin.
+
+The big man shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I can teach my servants discretion," he replied whimsically, "but I
+can't teach 'em to use their eyes. Frau Wirth could remember nothing
+about this fellow except that he wasn't tall and wore a brown overcoat ..."
+
+"Jeekes!" cried Robin, slapping his thigh. "He must have been actually
+coming away from your place when I met him ..."
+
+"And who," asked the big man, reflectively contemplating the amber
+fluid in his glass, "who is Jeekes?"
+
+In reply Robin told him the story of Hartley Parrish's death, his
+growing certainty that the millionaire had been murdered, the mysterious
+letters on slatey-blue paper, and Jeekes's endeavor to burke the
+investigations by throwing on Robin the suspicion of having driven
+Parrish to suicide by threats. He told of his chance meeting with Jeekes
+in Rotterdam that morning, his adventure at the Villa Bergendal, his
+finding and rescue of Mary Trevert, and their escape.
+
+Herr Schulz listened attentively and without interruption until Robin
+had reached the end of his story.
+
+"There's one thing you haven't explained," he said, "and that's how Miss
+Trevert came to walk into the hands of these precious ruffians ..."
+
+"There, perhaps, I can help you," said the doctor from behind one of
+Herr Schulz's rank cigars; "I have it from Miss Trevert herself. Some
+one impersonating you Mr.--er, ahem,--Schulz--telephoned her this
+morning, after she had left her letter of introduction here, asking her
+to come out to lunch at your country-house. She suspected nothing and
+went off in the car they sent for her ..."
+
+"By George!" said the big man thoughtfully; "I suspected some game of
+this kind when I heard of the attempt to get at that letter of
+introduction. If I only could have got hold of Marbran this morning ..."
+
+"Marbran!" said Robin thoughtfully. "When I read Dulkinghorn's letter
+just now I thought I had heard that name before. Of course--Victor
+Marbran! That was it! I remember now! He knew Hartley Parrish in the old
+days. Parrish once said that Marbran would do him an injury if he could.
+Who is Marbran, sir?"
+
+All unconsciously he paid the tribute of 'sir' to Herr Schulz's
+undoubted habit of command.
+
+"Victor Marbran," replied the big man, "is Elias van der Spyck & Co., a
+firm which made millions in the war by trading with the enemy. In every
+neutral country there were, of course, firms which specialized in
+importing contraband for the use of the Germans, but van der Spyck & Co.
+brought the evasion of the blockade to a fine art. They covered up their
+tracks, however, with such consummate art that we could never bring
+anything home to them. In fact, it was only after the armistice that we
+began to learn something of the immense scope of their operations. There
+was a master brain behind them. But it was never discovered. It strikes
+me, however, that we are on the right track at last ..."
+
+"By Jove ...!" exclaimed Robin impressively. "Hartley Parrish!..."
+
+The big man raised a hand.
+
+"_Attentions!_" he interposed suavely. "The chain is not yet complete. I
+wonder what this van der Spyck letter of Miss Trevert's contained that
+made Victor Marbran and the secretary chap so desperately anxious to get
+hold of it. For you understand, don't you?" he said briskly, turning to
+Robin, "that they were after that and that alone. And they risked penal
+servitude in this country to get it ..."
+
+Robin nodded.
+
+"To save their necks in another," he said.
+
+"I have the letter here," mildly remarked the doctor from his corner of
+the room. "Miss Trevert gave it to me!"
+
+He produced a white envelope and drew from it a folded square of
+slatey-blue paper. In great excitement Robin sprang forward.
+
+"You're a downy bird, Doctor, I must say," he remarked, "fancy keeping
+it up your sleeve all this time!"
+
+He eagerly took the letter, spread it out on the table, and read it
+through whilst Herr Schulz looked over his shoulder.
+
+"Code, eh?" commented the big man, shaking his head humorously. "If it
+beats Dulkinghorn, it beats me!"
+
+From his note-case Robin now drew a folded square of paper identical in
+colour with the letter spread out before them.
+
+"I found this on the carpet beside Parrish's body," he said. "Look, it's
+exactly the same paper ..."
+
+Behind the tortoise-shell spectacles the big man's eyes narrowed down to
+pin-points as he caught sight of the sheet which Robin unfolded and its
+series of slits.
+
+"Aha!" he cried--and his voice rang out clear through the room--"the
+grill, eh? Well, well, to think of that!"
+
+He took the slotted sheet of paper from Robin's hands and laid it over
+the letter so that it exactly covered it, edge to edge and corner to
+corner. In this way the greater part of the typewriting in the letter
+was covered over, and only the words appearing in the slots could be
+read. And thus it was that Robin Greve, Herr Schulz, and Dr.
+Collingwood, leaning shoulder to shoulder, read the message that came to
+Hartley Parrish in the library at Harkings....
+
+  ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+
+  GENERAL IMPORTERS
+
+  ROTTERDAM Rotterdam 25th Nov.
+
+  _Codes_
+  A.B.C.
+  Liebler's
+
+  _Personal_
+
+  Dear Mr. Parrish,
+
+  Your favour of even date to hand and contents
+  noted. _The last_ delivery of steel was to time but we have had
+  _warning_ from the railway authorities that labour troubles at the
+  docks are likely to delay future consignments. _If you don't_
+  mind we should prefer to _settle_ the question of future
+  delivery _by Nov. 27_ as we have a board meeting on the 30th
+  inst. While we fully appreciate your own difficulties with
+  labour at home, _you_ will understand that this is a question
+  which we cannot afford to adjourn _sine_ _die._
+
+  Yours faithfully,
+
+  pro ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+
+"'The last ... warning,'" Robin read out, "'if you don't ... settle ...
+by Nov. 27 ... you ... die ...!'"
+
+He looked up. "Last Saturday," he said, "was the 27th, the day that
+Parrish died ..."
+
+"The grill," remarked the big man authoritatively, "is one of the oldest
+dodges known to the Secret Service. It renders a conventional code
+absolutely undecipherable as long as it is skilfully worded, as it is in
+this case. You send your conventional code by one route, your key by
+another. I make no doubt that this was the way in which van der Spyck &
+Co. transacted their business with Hartley Parrish. They simply posted
+their conventional code letters through the post in the ordinary way,
+confident that there was nothing in them to catch the eye of the
+Censor's Department. The key might be sent in half a dozen different
+ways, by hand, concealed in a newspaper, in a parcel ..."
+
+"So this," said Robin, pointing at the letter, "was what caused Hartley
+Parrish to make his will. It would lead one to suppose that it was what
+induced him to commit suicide were not the presumption so strong that he
+was murdered. But who killed him? Was it Jeekes or Marbran?"
+
+Herr Schulz pitched his cigar-stump into an ash-tray.
+
+"That," he said, "is the question which I am going to ask you gentlemen
+to help me answer. You will realize that legally we have not a leg to
+stand on. We are in a foreign country where, without first getting a
+warrant from London, we can take no steps whatever to run these fellows
+in. To get the Dutch police to move against these gentry in the matter
+of the assault upon Miss Trevert would waste valuable time. And we have
+to move quickly--before these two lads can get away. I therefore propose
+that we start this instant for the Villa Bergendal and try, if we are
+not too late, to force Marbran or Jeekes or both of them to a
+confession. That done, we can hold them if possible until we can get the
+Dutch police to apprehend them at the instance of Miss Trevert. Then we
+can communicate with the English police. It's all quite illegal, of
+course! You have a car, I think, Mr. Greve! You will come with us, Dr.
+Collingwood? Good! Then let us start at once!"
+
+Robin intervened with a proposal that they should call _en route_ at his
+hotel to see if there were any telegrams for him.
+
+"Manderton knows I am in Rotterdam," he explained, "and he promised to
+wire me the latest developments in the enquiry he is conducting."
+
+"Miss Trevert should be fully recovered by this," put in the doctor;
+"apart from a little sickness she is really none the worse for her
+disagreeable experience. If there was anything you wanted to ask her ..."
+
+"There is," said Robin promptly. "Her reply to one question," he
+explained, turning to Herr Schulz, "will give us the certainty that
+Parrish was murdered and did not commit suicide. It will not delay us
+more than five minutes to stop at her hotel in passing, We will then
+call in at my place. We should be at the Villa within half an hour from
+now ..."
+
+"Gentlemen," said Herr Schulz as they prepared to go, "I know my Mr.
+Victor Marbran. You should all be armed."
+
+Robin produced the pistol he had taken from Jeekes. Herr Schulz slipped
+a Browning pistol into the breast-pocket of his jacket and, producing a
+long-barrelled service revolver, gave it to the doctor.
+
+"There are three of them, I gather, counting the chauffeur," commented
+the big man, pulling on his overcoat, "so we shall be equally matched."
+
+Darkness had fallen upon Rotterdam and the lights from the houses made
+yellow streaks in the water of the canal as the car, piloted by Robin,
+drove the party to Mary Trevert's hotel.
+
+They found the girl, pale and anxious, in the lounge.
+
+"Well, now," cried the doctor breezily, "and how are you feeling? Did
+you take my advice and have some tea?"
+
+"What has happened?" asked the girl; "I have been so anxious about you ..."
+
+Her words were addressed to the doctor, but she looked at Robin.
+
+"Mary," said Robin, "we are very near the truth now. But there is one
+thing you can tell us. It is very important. When you heard the shot in
+the library at Harkings, did you notice any other sound--before or
+after?"
+
+The girl paused to think.
+
+"There was a sort of sharp cry and a thud ..."
+
+"I know. But was there anything else? Do try and remember. It's so
+important!"
+
+The girl was silent for a moment. Then she said slowly:
+
+"Yes, there was, now I come to think of it. Just as I tried the door--it
+was locked, you know--there was a sort of hiss, harsh and rather loud,
+from the room ..."
+
+"A sort of hiss, eh? Something like a sneeze?"
+
+"Yes. Only louder and ... and ... harsher!"
+
+"Now, answer me carefully! Was this before or after the shot?"
+
+"Oh, before! Just as I was rattling the doorhandle. The shot broke in
+upon it...."
+
+Robin turned to Herr Schulz, who stood with a grave face by his side.
+
+"The silencer, you see, sir!" he said. Then to Mary he added: "Mary, we
+are going off now. But we will be back within the hour and...."
+
+"Oh, Robin," the girl broke in, "don't leave me alone! I don't feel safe
+in this place after this morning. I'd much rather come with you...."
+
+"Mary, it's quite impossible...." Robin began.
+
+But the girl had turned to a table and taken from it her hat and fur.
+
+"I don't care!" she exclaimed wilfully; "I'm coming anyhow. I refuse to
+be left behind!"
+
+She smiled at Herr Schulz as she spoke, and that gentleman's rather grim
+face relaxed as he looked at her.
+
+"I'm not sure I wouldn't say the same!" he remarked.
+
+The upshot of it was that, despite Robin's objections, Mary Trevert
+accompanied the party. She sat on the back seat, rather flushed and
+excited, between Herr Schulz and the doctor, while Robin took the wheel
+again. A few minutes' drive took them to the big hotel where Robin had
+booked a room. They all waited in the car whilst he went to the office.
+
+He was back in a minute, an open telegram in his hand.
+
+"I believe I've got in my pocket," he cried, "the actual weapon with
+which Hartley Parrish was killed!"
+
+And he read from the telegram:
+
+"Mastertons gunsmiths sold last July pair of Browning automatics
+identical with that found on Parrish to Jeekes who paid with Parrish's
+cheque."
+
+The message was signed "Manderton."
+
+At that moment a man wearing a black bowler hat and a heavy frieze
+overcoat came hurrying out of the hotel.
+
+"Mr. Greve!" he cried as Robin, who was back in the driving-seat, was
+releasing the brake. "Did you have the wire from the Yard saying I was
+coming?" he asked. "Probably I beat the telegraph, though. I came by
+air!"
+
+Then he tipped his hat respectfully at Herr Schulz.
+
+"This is Detective-Inspector Manderton, of Scotland Yard, sir," said
+Robin.
+
+The big man beamed a smile of friendly recognition.
+
+"Mr. Manderton and I are old friends," he said. "How are you,
+Manderton? I didn't expect you to recognize me in these duds ..."
+
+"I'd know you anywhere, sir," said the detective with unwonted
+cordiality.
+
+"Have you got your warrant, Manderton?" asked Herr Schulz.
+
+"Aye, I have, sir," replied the detective. "And I've a colleague from
+the Dutch police who's going along with me to effect the arrest ..."
+
+"Jeekes, eh?"
+
+"That's the party, sir, charged with wilful murder.... This is
+Commissary Boomjes, of the Rotterdam Criminal Investigation Department!"
+
+A tall man with a short black beard had approached the car. It was
+decided that the whole party should proceed to the Villa Bergendal
+immediately. Manderton sat next to Robin and the Dutch police officer
+perched himself on the footboard.
+
+"And where did you pick _him_ up, I'd like to know?" whispered Manderton
+in Robin's ear with a backward jerk of the head, as they glided through
+the brightly lit streets.
+
+"D'you mean the doctor?" asked Robin.
+
+"No, your other friend!"
+
+"Miss Trevert had a letter to him. Something in the Secret Service,
+isn't he?"
+
+Mr. Manderton snorted.
+
+"'Something in the Secret Service,'" he repeated disdainfully. "Well, I
+should say he was. If you want to know, Mr. Greve, he's the head!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+THE FIGURE IN THE DOORWAY
+
+The rain was coming down in torrents and the night was black as pitch
+when, leaving the lights of Rotterdam behind, the car swung out on to
+the main road leading to the Villa Bergendal. Thanks to a powerful
+headlight, Robin was able to get a good turn of speed out of her as soon
+as they were clear of the city. As they slowed down at the gate in the
+side road Herr Schulz tapped him on the shoulder.
+
+"Better leave the car here and put the lights out," he counselled. "And
+Miss Trevert should stay if the doctor here would remain to look after
+her ..."
+
+"You think there'll be a scrap?" whispered the doctor.
+
+"With a man like Marbran," returned the Chief, "you never know what may
+happen ..."
+
+"Zere will be no faight," commented the Dutch police officer in
+lugubrious accents, "my vriends, ve are too laite ..."
+
+But the Chief insisted that Mary should stay behind and the doctor
+agreed to act as her escort. Then in single file the party proceeded up
+the drive, Robin in front, then the Dutchman, after him the Chief, and
+Mr. Manderton in the rear.
+
+They walked on the grass edging the avenue. On the wet turf their feet
+made no sound. When they came in view of the house, they saw it was in
+darkness. No light shone in any window, and the only sound to be heard
+was the melancholy patter of the rain drops on the laurel bushes. When
+they saw the porch looking black before them, they left the grass and
+stepped gently across the drive, the gravel crunching softly beneath
+their feet. Robin led the way boldly under the porch and laid a hand on
+the doorknob. The door opened easily and the next moment the four men
+were in the hall.
+
+As Robin moved to the wall to find the electric light switch, a torch
+was silently thrust into his hand.
+
+"Better have this, sir," whispered Manderton. "I have my finger on the
+switch now, but we'd best wait to put the light up until we know where
+they are. Where do we go first?"
+
+"Into the sitting-room," Robin returned.
+
+Switching the torch on and off only as he required it, he crept silently
+over the heavy carpet to the door of the room in which that morning he
+had come upon Mary. Manderton remained at the switch in the hall whilst
+the other two men followed Robin through the door.
+
+The room was in darkness. It struck chill; for the fire had gone out.
+The beam of the torch flitting from wall to wall showed the room to be
+empty.
+
+"I don't believe there's a soul in the house," whispered the Chief to
+Robin.
+
+"Ve are too laite; I have said it!" muttered the Dutchman.
+
+"There is another room leading out of this," replied Robin, turning the
+torch on to the blue curtain covering the door leading into the office.
+"We'll have a look in there and then try upstairs. Manderton will give
+us warning if anybody comes down ..."
+
+So saying he drew the curtain aside and pushed open the door. Instantly
+a gush of cold air blew the curtain back in his face. Before he could
+disentangle himself the door slammed to with a crash that shook the
+house.
+
+"That's done it!" muttered the Chief.
+
+The three men stood and listened. They heard the dripping of the rain,
+the soughing of the wind, but no sound of human kind came to their ears.
+
+"The place is empty," whispered the Chief. "They've cleared ..."
+
+"It is too laite; I have said it." The Dutchman spoke in a hoarse bass.
+
+"We'll go in here, anyway," answered Robin, lifting up the curtain
+again. "They may have heard us and be hiding ..."
+
+He opened the door, steadying it with his foot. The curtain flapped
+wildly round them as they crossed the threshold. The broad white beam of
+the electric torch swung from window to desk, from desk to safe.
+
+"The door over there is open," exclaimed the Chief; "that's the way
+they've gone."
+
+Suddenly he clutched Robin's arm.
+
+"Steady," he whispered, "look there ... in the doorway ... there's
+somebody moving ... quick, the torch!"
+
+The light flashed across the room, blazed for an instant on a
+window-pane, then picked out a man's form swaying in the doorway. He had
+his back to the room and was rocking gently to and fro with the wind
+which they felt cold on their faces.
+
+"It's only a coat and trousers hanging in the door ..." began Robin.
+
+Then, with a suddenness which pained the eyes, the room was flooded with
+light. The Dutch detective stepped from the electric light switch and
+moved to the open door.
+
+"Too laite!" he cried, shaking his head; "have I not tell you?"
+
+Suspended by a strip of coloured stuff, the body of Mr. Jeekes dangled
+from the cross-beam of the door. The corpse oscillated in the breeze,
+silhouetted against an oblong of black sky, turning this way and that,
+loose, unnatural, horrible, and, as the body, twisting gently, faced the
+room, it gave a glimpse of startling eyes, swollen, empurpled features,
+protruding tongue.
+
+Without the least trace of emotion the black-bearded detective picked up
+a rush-bottom chair and gathering up the corpse by its collar hoisted it
+up without an effort so that the feet rested on the chair. Then,
+producing a clasp-knife, he mounted the chair and, with a vigorous
+slash, cut the coloured strip which had been fastened to a staple
+projecting from the brickwork above the door on the outside of the
+house.
+
+He caught the body in his arms and laid it face upwards on the matting
+which covered the floor. He busied himself for an instant at the neck,
+then rose with a twisted strip of coloured material in his hand.
+
+"His braces," he remarked, "very common. The stool what he has stood
+upon and knocked avay, she lies outsaide! My vriends, ve are too laite!"
+
+The doctor, fetched in haste by Manderton, examined the body. The man
+had been dead, he said, for several hours. Mary remained in the hall
+with Manderton while Robin and the Dutch detective went over the house.
+There was no trace either of Marbran or of the chauffeur. In the two
+bedrooms which showed signs of occupation the beds had been made up, but
+the ward-robes were empty.
+
+"Marbran's made a bolt for it," said Robin, coming into the office where
+he had left the Chief, "and taken everything with him ..."
+
+"I gathered as much," answered that astute gentleman, pointing at the
+fireplace. A pile of charred paper filled the grate. "There's nothing
+here, and I think we can wipe Mr. Victor Marbran off the slate. I doubt
+if we shall see him again. At any rate we can leave him to the tender
+mercies of our black-bearded friend here. As for us, I don't really see
+that there is anything more to detain us here ..."
+
+"But," remarked Robin, looking at the still figure on the floor, the
+face now mercifully covered by the doctor's white handkerchief, "surely
+this is a confession of guilt. Has he left nothing behind in writing? No
+account of the crime?"
+
+"Not a thing," responded the Chief, "and I've been through every
+drawer. Even the safe is open ... and empty!"
+
+"But how does it happen then," asked Robin, "that Marbran has legged it
+while Jeekes here ..."
+
+"Marbran left him in the lurch," the Chief broke in decisively. "I think
+that's clear. While you were upstairs with our Dutch friend, I went
+through the dead man's pockets. He had no money, Greve, except a few
+coppers and a little Dutch change. He had not even got a return ticket
+to London. Which makes me think that Master Jeekes had left old England
+for good."
+
+"Another thing that puzzles me," remarked Robin, "is how Jeekes knew
+that Miss Trevert had a letter to you, sir? Or, for a matter of that,
+how he knew that she had gone to Rotterdam at all?"
+
+"That's not hard to answer," said Mr. Manderton, who had just entered
+the room. "On Sunday night Jeekes rang up Harkings from his club and
+asked to speak to Miss Trevert. Bude told him she had gone away. Jeekes
+then asked to speak to Sir Horace Trevert, who told him that his sister
+had gone to Rotterdam. Jeekes takes the first available train in the
+morning, recognizes Miss Trevert on the way across, and tags her to her
+hotel in Rotterdam. The next morning he follows her again, shadows her
+to Sir ... to this gentleman's rooms, and there, as we know, contrived
+by a trick to see to whom she had a letter."
+
+"But why did he not attempt to get the letter away from her as soon as
+she arrived? Miss Trevert never suspected Jeekes. She might have shown
+him the letter if he'd asked her for it ..."
+
+The detective shook his head sagely.
+
+"Jeekes was pretty 'cute," he said. "Before letting the girl know he was
+in Rotterdam, he wanted to find out what she wanted here and whom she
+knew. Remember, he had no means of knowing if the girl suspected him or
+not ..."
+
+"So he devised this trick of impersonating Mr. Schulz on the telephone,
+eh?"
+
+"Bah!" broke in the Chief; "I bet that was Marbran's idea. Look at
+Jeekes's face and tell me if you see in it any feature indicating the
+bold, ingenious will to try a bluff like that. I never knew this fellow
+here. But I know Marbran, a resolute, undaunted type. You can take it
+from me, Marbran directed--Jeekes merely carried out instructions. What
+do you say, Manderton?"
+
+But the detective had retired into his shell again.
+
+"If you will come to Harkings with me the day after to-morrow, sir, I
+shall hope to show you exactly how Mr. Parrish met his death ..."
+
+"No, no, Manderton," responded the Chief; "I can't leave here for a bit.
+There are bigger murderers than Jeekes at liberty in Holland to-day ..."
+
+The detective slapped his thigh.
+
+"I'd have laid a shade of odds," he cried merrily, "that you were
+watching the gentleman at Amerongen, sir ..."
+
+"Tut, tut, Manderton," said the Chief, raising his hand to silence the
+other; "you run on too fast, my friend! I wish," he went on, changing
+the subject, "I could be with you at Harkings to-morrow to witness your
+reconstruction of the crime, Manderton. You'll go, I suppose, Greve?"
+
+"I certainly shall," answered the barrister, "I have had some experience
+of criminals, but I must say I never saw one less endowed with criminal
+characteristics than little Jeekes. A strange character!..."
+
+The Chief laughed sardonically.
+
+"Anyway," he remarked, "he had a damn good notion of the end that
+befitted him ..."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a still, starry night. The Flushing boat stood out of harbour on
+a calm sea. The high arc lamps threw a blue gleam over the deserted
+moles and glinted in the oily swell lapping the quays. From the
+fast-receding quayside the rasping of a winch echoed noisily across the
+silent water. On the upper deck of the mail-boat Robin Greve and Mary
+Trevert stood side by side at the rail. They had the deck to themselves.
+Above their heads on the bridge the captain stood immobile, a square
+black figure, the helmsman at his elbow. Otherwise, between the stars
+and the sea, the man and the girl were alone.
+
+Thus they had stood ever since the mail-boat had cast off from the quay.
+Robin had made some banal attempt at conversation, urging (but without
+much sincerity) that, after her experiences of the day, the girl should
+go to her cabin and rest. But Mary Trevert had merely shaken her head
+impatiently, without speaking.
+
+Presently he put his arm through hers. He felt against his wrist the
+warm softness of her travelling-coat, and it seemed to him that, though
+the girl made no sign, some slight answering pressure met his touch. So
+they leaned upon the rail for a space watching the water fall hissing
+from the vessel's side as the steamer, jarring and quivering, met the
+long steady roll from the open sea.
+
+Then Mary Trevert spoke.
+
+"Robin," she said gently, "I owe you an apology ..."
+
+Robin Greve looked at her quickly. But Mary had her eyes fixed seaward
+in contemplation of a distant light that flared and died with persistent
+regularity.
+
+"My dear," he answered, "I've only myself to blame. When you told me you
+were going to marry Hartley Parrish, I should have known that you had
+your reasons and that those reasons were good. I should have held my
+tongue ..."
+
+This time the girl stole a glance at him. But now he was gazing away to
+the horizon where the light came and went.
+
+"All this misunderstanding between us," he went on, "came about because
+of what I said in the billiard-room that afternoon ..."
+
+The girl shook her head resolutely.
+
+"No," she answered, "it was my fault. I'm a proud devil, Robin, and what
+you said about Hartley and ... and ... other women, Robin, hurt and ...
+and made me angry. No, no, don't apologize again. You and I are old
+enough friends, my dear, to tell one another the truth. You made me
+angry because what you said was true. I _was_ selling myself, selling
+myself with my eyes open, too, and you've got a perfect right never to
+speak to me again ..."
+
+She did not finish the sentence but broke off. Her voice died away
+quaveringly. Robin took her hand in his.
+
+"Dear," he said, "don't cry! It's over and done with now ..."
+
+Mary shook herself with an angry gesture.
+
+"What's the good of telling me not to cry?" she protested tearfully;
+"I've disgraced myself in my own eyes as well as in yours. If you can't
+forget what I was ready to do, I never shall ..."
+
+Very gently the young man turned the girl towards him.
+
+"I'm not such a prig as all that," he said. "We all make mistakes. You
+know I understand the position you were in. Parrish is dead. I shall
+forget the rest ..."
+
+Slowly the girl withdrew her hands from his grasp.
+
+"Yes," she said wearily, "you will find it easy to forget!"
+
+She drew her fur closer about her neck and turned her back on the sea.
+
+"I must go down," she said. And waited for the man to stand aside. He
+did not move and their eyes met. Suddenly, like a child, she buried her
+face in her arm flung out across his chest. She began to sob bitterly.
+
+"That afternoon ... in the billiard-room ..." she sobbed, "you will
+forget ... that ... too ... I suppose ..."
+
+Robin took her face in his hands, a hot, tear-stained face, and detached
+it from the sheltering arm.
+
+"My dear," he said, "I shall have to try to forget it. But I know I
+shan't succeed. To the end of my life I shall remember the kiss you gave
+me. But we are farther apart than ever now!"
+
+There was a great sadness in his voice. It arrested the girl's attention
+as he dropped his hands and turned back to the rail.
+
+"Why?" she said in a low voice, without looking up.
+
+"Because," replied the young man steadily, "you're rich now, Mary ..."
+
+The girl looked up quickly.
+
+"Will men ever understand women?" she cried, a new note in her voice.
+She stepped forward and, putting her two hands on the young man's
+shoulders, swung him round to face her.
+
+"I'm as poor as ever I was," she said, "for Hartley Parrish's money is
+not for me ..."
+
+"Mary!" exclaimed the young man joyfully.
+
+"Robin Greve," cried the girl, "do you mean to tell me you'd stand there
+thinking I'd accept money made like that ..."
+
+But now she was in his arms. With a little fluttering sigh she yielded
+to his kiss.
+
+"Oh, the man on the bridge!..." she murmured with her woman's instinct
+for the conventions.
+
+"Come behind the boat, then!" commanded Robin.
+
+And in the shadow of a weather-stained davit he kissed her again.
+
+"So you'll wait for me, after all, Mary?"
+
+"No," retorted the girl firmly. "We'll read the Riot Act to Mother and
+you must marry me at once!"
+
+The wind blew cold from the North Sea. It rattled in the rigging,
+flapped the ensign standing out stiffly at the stern, and whirled the
+black smoke from the steamer's funnels out into a dark aerial wake as
+far as the eye could reach. With a gentle rhythmic motion the vessel
+rose and fell, while the stars began to pale and faint grey shadows
+appeared in the eastern sky. Still the man and the girl stood by the
+swaying lifeboat and talked the things that lovers say. Step by step
+they went over their thoughts for one another in each successive phase
+of the dark tragedy through which they had passed.
+
+"And that van der Spyck letter," asked Robin; "how did you get hold of
+it? I've been wanting to ask you that ever since this afternoon ..."
+
+"I found it in the library," replied the girl, "on the desk. It had got
+tucked away between two letter-trays--one fits into the other, you
+know."
+
+"I wondered how Jeekes had come to miss it," said Robin. "But when was
+this?" he added.
+
+"On Sunday afternoon."
+
+"But what were you doing in the library?"
+
+The girl became a little embarrassed.
+
+"I knew Mr. Manderton was suspicious of you. I heard him telephoning
+instructions to London to have you watched. So I thought I'd go to the
+library to see if I could find anything which would show what they had
+against you exactly. And I found this letter. Then I noticed some one
+hiding behind the curtains, and, as I had the letter in my hand, I hid
+it in my dress. When I discovered that Bruce Wright was after it too, I
+pretended I had found nothing ..."
+
+"But, darling, why?"
+
+"I wanted to make sure for myself why you had sent Bruce Wright, for I
+guessed he had come from you, to look for this letter. So I thought I'd
+go to Rotterdam to investigate ..."
+
+Robin laughed affectionately.
+
+"Surely it would have been simpler to have given the letter to the
+police ..."
+
+Mary gave him a look of indignant surprise.
+
+"But it might have incriminated you!" she exclaimed.
+
+At that Robin kissed her again.
+
+"Will men _ever_ understand women?" he asked, looking into her tranquil
+grey eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+AN INTERRUPTION FROM BEYOND
+
+Sudden frost had laid an icy finger on the gardens of Harkings. The
+smooth green lawns were all dappled with white and wore a pinched and
+chilly look save under the big and solemn firs where the ground, warmed
+by its canopy of branches and coverlet of cones, had thawed in dark
+patches. The gravel walks were firm and dry; and in the rosery the bare
+skeleton of the pergolas stood out in clear-cut silhouette against a
+white and woolly sky.
+
+Overnight the frost had come. It had taken even the birds by surprise.
+They hopped forlornly about the paths as though wondering where they
+would get their breakfast. Robin Greve, idly watching them from the
+library window, found himself contrasting the cheerful winter landscape
+with the depressing conditions of the previous day. In wind and rain the
+master of Harkings had been laid to rest in the quiet little churchyard
+of Stevenish. The ceremony had been arranged in haste, as soon as the
+coroner's jury had viewed the body. Robin Greve, that morning arrived
+from Rotterdam, Bude, and Mr. Bardy the solicitor, had been the only
+mourners. As Robin looked out upon the wintry scene, his mind reverted
+to the hurried funeral with its depressing accompaniment of gleaming
+umbrellas, mud from the freshly turned clay, and dripping trees.
+
+Beneath the window of the library, its shattered pane now replaced, a
+cluster of starlings whistled gaily, darting bright-eyed glances, full
+of anticipation, at the closed window.
+
+"_He_ used to give them crumbs every morning after breakfast," said
+Mary. "See, Robin, how they are looking up! It seems a shame to
+disappoint them...."
+
+As though relieved to be quit of his dark thoughts, Robin, with a glad
+smile, turned to the girl. Dipping his hand into his pocket, he produced
+a hunk of bread and put it in her hand.
+
+"You think of everything!" she said, smiling back at him prettily.
+
+He pushed up the window and she crumbled the bread for the birds. He
+rested one hand on her shoulder.
+
+"He thought of everything, too," was his comment, "even down to the
+birds. It's extraordinary! No detail was too small for him!..."
+
+"He _was_ remarkable, Robin," answered the girl soberly; "there was
+something magnetic about his personality that made people like him.
+Even now that he is dead, even in spite of what we know, I can feel his
+attraction still. And the whole house is impregnated with his
+personality. Particularly this room. Don't you feel it? I don't mind
+being here with you, Robin, but I shouldn't like to be here alone. I was
+dreadfully frightened on Sunday evening when I came here. And when I saw
+the curtains move ... oh! I thought my heart would stop beating! Dear,
+I'm glad we are giving this place up. I don't feel that I could ever be
+happy here ... even with you!"
+
+"Poor devil!" said Robin. And then again he said: "Poor devil!"
+
+"It was terrible ... to die like that!" replied Mary.
+
+"It was terrible for him to lose _you_!" answered the young man.
+
+She gave his hand a little, tender squeeze, but relinquished it quickly
+as the door opened.
+
+Mr. Manderton was there, broad-shouldered and burly. Behind came Dr.
+Romain with a purple nose and eyes watering with the cold, Horace
+Trevert in plain clothes, Mr. Bardy, the solicitor, plump, middle-aged,
+and prim, with a broad, smooth-shaven face and an eyeglass on a black
+silk riband. In the background loomed the large form of Inspector
+Humphries, ruddy of cheek as of hair. Lady Margaret did not appear.
+
+Mr. Manderton slapped his bowler hat briskly on a side table and with a
+little bow to Mary walked to the desk.
+
+"Now," said Mr. Manderton with a long, shrewd look that comprehended the
+company, individually and collectively, and the entire room, "if
+Inspector Humphries will kindly close the door, we will reconstruct the
+crime in the light of the evidence we have collected."
+
+He turned round to the desk and pulled back the chair ... Hartley
+Parrish's empty chair.
+
+"It is just on five o'clock on Saturday evening, November 27," he began,
+"and growing dark outside. Mr. Parrish is sitting here"--he tapped the
+chair--"with all the lights in the room turned off except this one on
+the desk."
+
+Here he put a large hand on the reading-lamp.
+
+"The assumption that Mr. Parrish spent the afternoon, as he had spent
+the morning, over papers in connection with the business of Hornaway's
+in which he was interested is not correct. Mr. Archer, one of Mr.
+Parrish's secretaries who brought down a number of papers and letters
+for Mr. Parrish to sign in the morning, states that as far as Hornaway's
+or any other office business was concerned, Mr. Parrish was through with
+it by lunch. This is corroborated by the fact that no business papers of
+this description, with the exception of one, which I am coming to
+directly, were found on the desk here after Mr. Parrish's death. Nor
+were there any traces of burnt paper in or about the fire. These two
+facts were established by my colleague, Inspector Humphries."
+
+At this everybody turned and looked at the Inspector, who blushed until
+the tint of his hair positively paled by comparison with that of his
+face.
+
+"What Mr. Archer _did_ leave with Mr. Parrish, however," Mr. Manderton
+resumed, looking round the group and emphasising the "did," "was his
+will and this letter ..."--he held up a typewritten sheet of slatey-blue
+paper--"which, a straightforward business communication in appearance,
+was in reality a threat against his life. It was with these two
+documents that Mr. Parrish spent the last few hours before he was found
+dead in this room. A few odd papers found lying on the desk have nothing
+to do with the case and may therefore be dismissed."
+
+Mr. Manderton paused and then, with the deliberation which distinguished
+his every movement, walked round the desk to the window.
+
+"The fire in this room," he said, turning and facing his audience, "was
+smoking. The butler will testify to this and state that Mr. Parrish
+complained about it to him with the result that the sweep was ordered
+for Monday morning. Owing to the smoke in the room Mr. Parrish opened
+the window. His finger-prints were on the inside of the window-frame and
+a small fragment of white paint was still adhering to one of his
+finger-nails.
+
+"The window, then, was open as it is now. Mr. Parrish sat at his desk,
+read through his will, and wrote a letter to Miss Trevert informing her
+that, under the will, she was left sole legatee. This letter, with the
+will, was found on the desk after Mr. Parrish's death. Presumably in
+view of the threat against his life contained in this letter,"--the
+detective held up the slatey-blue paper,--"Mr. Parrish had either in his
+pocket or, as I am more inclined to think, lying on the desk in front of
+him, his Browning automatic pistol. This pistol was fitted with a Maxim
+silencer, an invention for suppressing the report of a firearm, which
+was sent to Mr. Parrish by a friend in America some years ago and which
+he kept permanently attached to the weapon."
+
+Mr. Manderton came to an impressive full stop and glanced round his
+circle of listeners. He gave his explanations easily and fluently, but
+in a plain, matter-of-fact tone such as a police constable employs in
+the witness-box. He had marshalled his facts well, and his measured
+advance towards his _d�nouement_ was not without its effect on his
+audience. Dr. Romain, nursing his knee on a leather settee, Horace
+Trevert, a tall slim figure eagerly watching the detective from his
+perch on the arm of the Chesterfield, and Robin and Mary, standing, very
+close together, behind the empty chair at the desk--each and every one
+was listening with rapt attention. Inspector Humphries, propping his big
+bulk uneasily against the wall near the door, was the only one who
+appeared to be oblivious of the strain.
+
+The detective walked round the desk and seated himself in the chair.
+
+"Mr. Parrish is seated at the desk here," he resumed, "when his
+attention is directed to the window."
+
+And here Mr. Manderton raised his head and looked out towards the
+frost-strewn gardens.
+
+"Maybe he hears a step, more probably he sees a face staring at him out
+of the dark. Very much to his surprise he recognizes Jeekes, his
+principal private secretary--I say to his surprise because he must have
+believed Jeekes, who had the week-end free, to be in London. And at
+that, perhaps because he thinks he has made a mistake--in any case to
+make sure--he gets up...."
+
+The detective suited the action to the word. He pushed back the chair
+and rose to his feet. They saw he held a large automatic pistol in his
+hand.
+
+"He has had this threatening letter, remember, so he takes his pistol
+with him. And he reaches the window ..."
+
+The detective was at the window now, his back to the room.
+
+"He speaks to Jeekes, angrily, maybe--the butler heard the sound of loud
+voices--they have words. And then ..."
+
+There came a knock at the library door. It was not a loud knock. It was
+in reality scarcely more than a gentle tap. But it fell upon a silence
+of Manderton's own creating, a rapt silence following a pause which
+preceded the climax of his narrative. So the discreet knocking resounded
+loud and clear through the library.
+
+"Who is that? What is it?" rapped out Dr. Bomain irritably.
+
+"Don't let any one disturb us, Inspector!" called out Horace Trevert to
+Inspector Humphries, who had opened the door.
+
+Bude's face appeared in the doorway. He had a short altercation with the
+Inspector, who resolutely interposed his massive form between the butler
+and the room.
+
+"What is it, Bude?" asked Robin, going to the door.
+
+"It's a letter for Miss Trevert, sir!" said Bude.
+
+"Well, leave it in the hall. Miss Trevert can't be disturbed at
+present ..."
+
+"But ... but, sir," the butler protested. Then Robin noticed that he was
+trembling with excitement and that his features were all distraught.
+
+"What's the matter with you, Bude?" Robin demanded.
+
+Humphries had stood on one side and Robin now faced the butler.
+
+"It's a letter from ... that Jeekes!" faltered Bude, holding out a
+salver. "I know his writing, sir!"
+
+"For Miss Trevert?"
+
+Robin gathered up the plain white envelope. It bore a Dutch stamp. The
+postmark was Rotterdam. He gave the letter to Mary. It was bulky and
+heavy.
+
+"For you," he said, and stood beside her while she broke the seal. By
+this they had all gathered round her.
+
+The envelope fluttered to the floor. Mary was unfolding a wad of sheets
+of writing-paper folded once across. She glanced at the topmost sheet,
+then handed the bundle to Robin.
+
+"It's a confession!" she said.
+
+From beyond the grave the little secretary had spoken and spoiled Mr.
+Manderton's _d�nouement_.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+THE DEATH OF HARTLEY PARRISH
+
+"For Miss Trevert."
+
+Thus, in Jeekes's round and flowing commercial hand, the document began:
+
+  Last Statement of Albert Edward Jeekes, made at
+  Rotterdam, this twenty-first Day of January, in the
+  Year of Our Lord One Thousand Nine Hundred
+  and...
+
+Mr. Bardy, the solicitor, to whom, by common consent, the reading of the
+confession had been entrusted, raised his eyebrows, thereby letting his
+eyeglass fall, and looked round at the company.
+
+"Pon my soul," he remarked, "for a man about to take his own life, our
+friend seems to have been the coolest customer imaginable. Look at it!
+Written in a firm hand and almost without an erasure. Very remarkable!
+Very remarkable, indeed!..."
+
+"Hm!" grunted Mr. Manderton, "not so uncommon as you suppose, Mr. Bardy,
+sir. Hendriks, the Palmers Green poisoner, typed out his confession on
+cream inlaid paper before dosing himself. But let's hear what the
+gentleman has to tell us...."
+
+This was the last digression. Thenceforth Mr. Bardy read out the
+confession to the end without interruption.
+
+  _For Miss Trevert_:
+
+  _Madam_,
+
+  I slew, but I am not a murderer: I Killed, but
+  without deliberation.
+
+  Victor Marbran has gone and left me to meet a
+  shameful death. But I cannot face the scaffold. As
+  men go, I do not believe I am a coward and I am not
+  afraid to die. But the inexorable deliberation of
+  justice appals me. When I have written what I have
+  to write, I shall be hangman to myself. My pistol
+  they have taken away.
+
+  Victor Marbran has abandoned me. He had prepared
+  everything for his flight. Even if the law can
+  indict him as the virtual murderer of Hartley Parrish,
+  the law will never lay hands on him. Victor Marbran
+  neglects no detail. He will never be caught. But from
+  the Great Unknown for which I shall presently set
+  out, I shall stretch forth my hand and see that, here
+  or there, he does not escape the punishment he merits
+  for bringing down shame and disgrace upon me.
+
+  Just now he bade me stay in the office and finish
+  burning the papers in his desk. He promised he would
+  take me with him to a secure hiding-place which he
+  had made ready for some such emergency as this. I believed
+  him and, unsuspecting, stayed. And now he
+  has slipped away. He is gone and the house is empty.
+  I cannot follow him even did I know where he has
+  gone. I have only a very little money left and I am
+  tired. Very tired. I feel I cannot support the hue-and-cry
+  they will raise. Everything is still about me.
+  The quiet of the country is very soothing. To die like
+  this, with darkness falling and no sound but the
+  rustling rain, is the better way ...
+
+  Hartley Parrish was the man behind the great
+  syndicate which systematically ran the British blockade
+  of Germany in the war. He financed Marbran and
+  the international riff-raff of profiteers with whom Marbran
+  worked. Parrish supplied the funds, often the
+  goods as well,--at any rate, until they tightened up
+  the blockade,--while Marbran and the rest of the
+  bunch in neutral countries did the trading with the
+  enemy.
+
+  Parrish was a deep one. I say nothing against him.
+  He was a kind employer to me and I played him false,
+  for which I have been bitterly punished. To have
+  swindled Victor Marbran--I count it as nothing
+  against him, for that heartless, cruel man is deserving
+  of no pity ...
+
+  Parrish was the heart and soul, brains and muscle
+  of the syndicate. He lurked far in the background.
+  Any and every trail which might possibly lead back
+  to him was carefully effaced. He was secure as long
+  as Marbran and one or two other big men in the business
+  kept faith with him. Now and then, when the
+  British Intelligence were too hot on the trail, Parrish
+  and Marbran would give away one of the small fry
+  belonging to the organization and thus stave off suspicion.
+  They could do this in complete safety, for so
+  perfect was their organization that the small fry only
+  knew the small fry in the shallows and never the big
+  fish in the deep ...
+
+  But Hartley Parrish was in Marbran's hands. They
+  stood or fell together. Parrish knew this. But he was
+  a born gambler and insanely self-confident. He took a
+  chance with Marbran. It cost him his life.
+
+  All payments were made to Parrish. He was treasurer
+  and banker of the syndicate. Money came in by
+  all sorts of devious routes, sometimes from as far
+  afield as South or Central America. Parrish distributed
+  the profits. Everything was in his hands.
+
+  By the time the armistice came, the game had got
+  too hot. All the big fish except Marbran had cleared
+  out with their pile. But Marbran, like Parrish, was
+  a gambler. He stuck it out and stayed on.
+
+  Parrish played fair until the war was over. The
+  armistice, of course, put an end to the business. But
+  some months after the armistice a sum of �150,000
+  was paid to Parrish through a Spanish bank in settlement,
+  Marbran told me, for petrol indirectly delivered
+  to the German Admiralty. Parrish pouched the
+  lot. Not a penny did Marbran get.
+
+  Parrish and Marbran were old friends. They were
+  young men together on the Rand gold-fields in the
+  early days. In fact, I believe they went out to South
+  Africa together as penniless London lads. But Marbran
+  hated Parrish, though Parrish had, I believe,
+  been his benefactor in many ways. Marbran was
+  fiercely envious of the other because he realized that,
+  starting with an equal chance, Parrish had left him
+  far behind. Everything that Parrish touched prospered,
+  while Marbran was in perpetual financial
+  straits. He was Parrish's equal in courage, but not in
+  judgment.
+
+  Parrish calculated that Marbran would not dare to
+  denounce him. He had always taken the lead in their
+  schemes and he affected to disregard Marbran altogether.
+  So he left the latter's letters unanswered and
+  laughed at his threats. He was quite sure that Marbran
+  would never risk losing his pile by giving Parrish
+  away, for they were, of course, both British subjects
+  and both in it together ...
+
+  Marbran always distrusted Parrish, and long before
+  the breach came, he picked on me to act the spy on my
+  employer. I, too, was born a gambler, but, like Marbran,
+  I lacked the lucky touch which made Parrish a
+  millionaire. Speculation proved my ruin. I have often
+  thanked my God on my bended knees--as I shall do
+  again to-night before I pass over--that my insane
+  folly has ruined no one but myself ...
+
+  Already, when Hartley Parrish engaged me, I was
+  up to the neck in speculation. Up to that time, however,
+  I had managed to keep my head above water,
+  but the large salary on which Parrish started me
+  dazzled me. I tried a flutter in oil on a much larger
+  scale than anything I had hitherto attempted, with the
+  result that one day I found myself with a debt of
+  nine hundred pounds to meet and no assets to meet
+  it with. And I was two hundred pounds in debt to
+  Hartley Parrish's petty cash account, which I kept.
+
+  It was Victor Marbran who came to my rescue.
+  Parrish had sent me over to Rotterdam to fetch some
+  papers from Marbran. At this time I knew nothing of
+  Parrish's blockade-running business. Parrish never
+  took me into his confidence about it and the whole of
+  the correspondence went direct to him through a number
+  of secret channels with which I only gradually
+  became acquainted behind his back.
+
+  I had met Marbran several times in London and
+  also at Rotterdam. It had struck me that he had
+  formed a liking for me. On this particular visit to
+  Rotterdam Marbran took me out to dinner and encouraged
+  me to speak about myself. He was very
+  sympathetic, and this, coupled with the wine I had
+  taken, led me to open my heart to him. Without giving
+  myself away, I let him understand that I was in
+  considerable financial difficulties, which I set down to
+  the high cost of living as the result of the war.
+
+  Without a word of warning Marbran pulled out
+  his cheque-book.
+
+  "How much do you want," he asked, "to put you
+  straight?"
+
+  Nine hundred pounds, I told him.
+
+  He wrote the cheque at once there at the table. He
+  would advance me the money, he said, and put me
+  down for shares in a business in which he was interested.
+  It was a safe thing and profits were very high.
+  I could repay him at my leisure.
+
+  In this way I became a shareholder in Parrish's
+  blockade-running syndicate. The return I was to
+  make was to spy on my employer and to report to
+  Marbran the letters which Parrish received and the
+  names of the people whom he interviewed.
+
+  Of course, Marbran did not propose this plan at
+  once. When I took leave of him that night, I remember,
+  I all but broke down at the thought of his
+  unsolicited generosity. I have had a hard life, Miss
+  Trevert, and his seeming kindness broke me all up.
+  But I might have known.
+
+  I cashed Marbran's cheque and put back the two
+  hundred pounds I had taken from the petty cash account.
+  But I went on speculating. You see, I did
+  not believe Marbran's story about the shares he said
+  he would put me down for. I thought it was a charitable
+  tale to spare my feelings. So I plunged once
+  more in the confident hope of recovering enough to
+  repay my debt to Marbran.
+
+  A month later Marbran sent me a cheque for one
+  hundred pounds. He said it was the balance of fifteen
+  hundred pounds due to me as profits on my shares
+  less the nine hundred pounds I owed him and five
+  hundred pounds for my shares. But my speculations
+  had by this time gone wrong again, and I was heartily
+  glad presently to receive a further cheque for two
+  hundred pounds from Marbran. From that time on I
+  got from Marbran sums varying between one hundred
+  and fifty pounds and five hundred pounds a month.
+
+  When Marbran made me his shameful offer, I rejected
+  it with indignation. But I was fast in the trap.
+  Marbran explained to me in great detail and with the
+  utmost candour the working of the Parrish syndicate.
+  He let me know very plainly that I was as deeply
+  implicated as Parrish and he. I was a shareholder;
+  I had received and was receiving my share of the
+  profits. In my distress and shame I threatened to
+  expose the pair of them. Had I known the source of
+  his money, I told him, I should never have accepted it.
+  At that Marbran laughed contemptuously.
+
+  "You tell that yarn to the police," he sneered,
+  "and hear what they say!"
+
+  And then I realized that I was in the net.
+
+  I make no excuses for myself. I shall make none
+  to the Great Judge before whom in a little while I
+  shall appear. I had not the moral force to resist Marbran.
+  I did his bidding: I continued to take his
+  money and I held my peace.
+
+  And then came the breach between Parrish and
+  Marbran. I was the cause of it. But for me, his
+  trusty spy, Marbran would have known nothing of
+  this payment of �150,000 which Parrish received
+  from Spain, and this tragedy would not have happened.
+  God forgive me ...
+
+  Marbran appealed to Parrish in vain. What he
+  wrote I never knew, for, shortly after, Parrish quietly
+  and without any explanation took the confidential
+  work out of my hands. I believe he suspected then
+  who Marbran's spy was. But he said nothing to me
+  of his suspicions at that time ...
+
+  Finally, Marbran came to London. It was on Tuesday
+  of last week. I had been up in Sheffield on business,
+  and on my return I found Marbran waiting for
+  me at my rooms.
+
+  He was like a man possessed. Never before have I
+  witnessed such an outburst of ungovernable rage. Parrish,
+  it appears, had declined to see him. He swore
+  that Parrish should not get the better of him if he had
+  to kill him first. I can see Marbran now as he sat on
+  my bed, his livid face distorted with fury.
+
+  "I'll give him a last chance," he cried, "and then,
+  by God, let our smart Alec look out!"
+
+  This sort of talk frightened me. I knew Marbran
+  meant mischief. He was a bad man to cross. I was desperately
+  afraid he would waylay Parrish and bring
+  down disaster on the three of us. I did my utmost to
+  put the idea of violence out of his mind. I begged
+  him to content himself with trying to frighten Parrish
+  into paying up before trying other means.
+
+  My suggestion seemed to awaken some old memory
+  in Marbran's mind.
+
+  "By Gad, Jeekes," he said, after a moment's
+  thought, "you've given me an idea. Parrish has a
+  yellow streak. He's scared of a gun. I saw it once,
+  years ago, in a roughhouse we got into at Krugersdorp
+  on the Rand. Damn it, I know how to bring the yellow
+  dog to heel, and I'll tell you how we'll do it ..."
+
+  He then unfolded his plan. He would send Parrish
+  a last demand for a settlement, threatening him with
+  death if he did not pay up. The warning would reach
+  Parrish on the following Saturday. Marbran would
+  contrive that he should receive it by the first post.
+  As soon as possible thereafter I was to go to Parrish
+  boldly and demand his answer.
+
+  "And you'll take a gun," Marbran said, peering
+  at me with his cunning little eyes, "and you'll show it.
+  And if at the sight of it you don't get the brass, then
+  I don't know my old pal, Mister Hartley Parrish,
+  Esquire!"
+
+  The proposal appalled me. I knew nothing of
+  Hartley Parrish's "yellow streak." I knew him only
+  as a hard and resolute man, swift in decision and ruthless
+  in action. Whatever happened, I argued, Parrish
+  would discharge me and there was every prospect of
+  his handing me over to the police as well.
+
+  Marbran was deaf to my reasoning. I had nothing
+  to fear, he protested. Parrish would collapse at the
+  first sign of force. And as for my losing my job, Marbran
+  would find me another and a better one in his
+  office at Rotterdam.
+
+  Still I held out. The chance of losing my position,
+  even of being sent to gaol, daunted me less, I think,
+  than the admission to Parrish of the blackly ungrateful
+  role I had played towards him. In the end I told
+  Marbran to do his dirty work himself.
+
+  But I spoke without conviction. I realized that Marbran
+  held me in a cleft stick and that he realized it,
+  too. He wasted no further time in argument. I knew
+  what I had to do, he said, and I would do it. Otherwise ...
+
+  He left me in an agony of mental stress. At that
+  time, I swear to Heaven, Miss Trevert, I was determined
+  to let Marbran do his worst rather than lend
+  myself to this odious blackmailing trick, my own
+  suggestion, as I bitterly remembered. But for the rest
+  of the week his parting threat rang in my ears. Unless
+  he heard by the following Sunday that I had
+  confronted Parrish and called his bluff, as he put it,
+  the British police should have word, not only of Parrish's
+  activities in trading with the enemy, but of
+  mine as well.
+
+  It was no idle threat. Parrish and Marbran had
+  put men away before. I could give you the names ...
+
+  It is quite dark now. It must be an hour since
+  Greve took you away. Soon he will be back with the
+  police to arrest me and I must have finished by then,
+  finished with the story, finished with life ...
+
+  Last week I worked at Parrish's city office. I told
+  you how he kept me off his confidential work. On
+  Saturday morning I went round to the house in St.
+  James's Square to see whether Marbran had really
+  sent his warning. Archer, my colleague, who was acting
+  as confidential secretary in my stead, was there.
+  Parrish was at Harkings, he told me. Archer was
+  going down by car that morning with his mail. It
+  included two "blue letters" which Archer would, according
+  to orders, hand to Parrish unopened.
+
+  These "blue letters," as we secretaries used to call
+  them, written on a striking bluish paper, were the
+  means by which all communications passed between
+  Parrish and Marbran on the syndicate's business.
+  They were drafted in conventional code and came to
+  Parrish from all parts of Europe and in all kinds of
+  ways. No one saw them except himself. By his strict
+  injunctions, they were to be opened only by himself
+  in person.
+
+  When Archer told me that two "blue letters" had
+  come, I knew that Marbran had kept his word. Though
+  my mind was not made up, instinct told me I was
+  going to play my part ...
+
+  I could not face the shame of exposure. I was
+  brought up in a decent English home. To stand in
+  the dock charged with prolonging the sufferings of
+  our soldiers and sailors in order to make money was
+  a prospect I could not even contemplate.
+
+  I thought it all out that Saturday morning as I
+  stood at the dressing-table in my bedroom by the open
+  drawer in which my automatic pistol lay. It was one
+  given me by Parrish some years before at a time
+  when he thought we might be going on a trip to
+  Rumania ...
+
+  I slipped the pistol into my pocket. I felt like a man
+  in a dream. I believe I went down to Harkings by
+  train, but I have no clear recollection of the journey.
+  I seemed to come to my senses only when I found
+  myself standing on the high bank of the rosery at
+  Harkings, looking down upon the library window.
+
+  Outside in the gardens it was nearly dark, but from
+  the window fell a stream of subdued light. The curtains
+  had not been drawn and the window was open
+  at the bottom. Parrish sat at the desk. Only the desk-lamp
+  was lit, so that his face was in shadow, but
+  his two hands, stretched out on the blotter in front
+  of him, lay in a pool of light, and I caught the gleam
+  of his gold signet ring.
+
+  He was not writing or working. He seemed to be
+  thinking. I watched him in a fascinated sort of way.
+  I had never seen him sit thus idly at his desk before ...
+
+  My brain worked quite lucidly now. As I looked
+  at him, I suddenly realised that I had a golden opportunity
+  for speaking to him unobserved. The gardens
+  were absolutely deserted: the library wing was very
+  still. If he were a man to be frightened into submission,
+  my sudden appearance, following upon the receipt
+  of the threatening letter, would be likely to help
+  in achieving this result.
+
+  I walked softly down the steps to the window. I
+  stood close up to the sill.
+
+  "Mr. Parrish," I said, "Victor Marbran has sent
+  me for his answer."
+
+  In a flash he was on his feet.
+
+  "Who's there?" he cried out in alarm.
+
+  His voice shook, and I could see his hand tremble
+  in the lamplight as he clutched at the desk. Then I
+  knew that he was badly frightened, and the discovery
+  gave me courage.
+
+  "Are you going to settle with Marbran or are you
+  not?" I said.
+
+  At that he peered forward. All of a sudden his
+  manner changed.
+
+  "What in hell does this mean, Jeekes?"
+
+  His voice quavered no longer. It was hard and
+  menacing.
+
+  But I had burnt my boats behind me now.
+
+  "It means," I answered boldly, "that you've got
+  to pay up. And you've got to pay up now!"
+
+  In a couple of quick strides he was round the desk
+  and coming at me as I stood with my chest pressing
+  against the window-sill. His hands were thrust in his
+  jacket pockets. His face was red with anger.
+
+  "You dawggorn dirty little rathole spy,"--he spat
+  the words at me in a low, threatening voice,--"I
+  guessed that lowdown skunk Marbran had been getting
+  at some of my people!"
+
+  His voice rose in a sudden gust of passion.
+
+  "You rotten little worm! You'd try and bounce
+  me, would you? You've come to the wrong shop for
+  that, Mr. Spying Jeekes ..."
+
+  His manner was incredibly insulting. So was the
+  utter contempt with which he looked at me. This
+  man, who had trembled with fear at the unknown, recovered
+  his self-control on finding that the menace
+  came from the menial, the hireling, he despised. I felt
+  the blood rush in a hot flood to my head. I lost all
+  self-control. I screamed aloud at him.
+
+  "There's no bounce about it this time! If you
+  don't pay up, you know what to expect!"
+
+  I had been holding my pistol out of his sight below
+  the window-ledge, but on this I swung it up and
+  levelled it at him.
+
+  He sprang back a pace, the colour fading on the
+  instant from his face, his mouth twisted awry in a
+  horrid paroxysm of fear. Even in that subdued light
+  I could see that his cheeks were as white as paper.
+
+  But then in a flash his right hand went up. I saw
+  the pistol he held, but before I could make a movement
+  there was a loud, raucous hiss of air and a
+  bullet whistled past my ear into the darkness of the
+  gardens. How he missed me at that range I don't
+  know, but, seeing me standing there, he came at me
+  again with the pistol in his hand ...
+
+  And then you, Miss Trevert, cried out, "Hartley,"
+  and rattled the handle of the door. Your cry merged
+  in a deafening report. Parrish, who was quite close
+  to me, and advancing, stopped short with a little
+  startled exclamation, his eyes reproachful, full of
+  surprise. He stood there and swayed, looking at me
+  all the time, then crashed backwards on the floor. And
+  I found myself staring at the smoking pistol in my
+  hand ...
+
+  It was your scream that brought me to my senses.
+  My mind cleared instantly. I knew I must act quickly.
+  The house would be alarmed directly, and before that
+  happened, I must be clear of the grounds. Yet I
+  knew that before I went I must do something to make
+  myself safe ...
+
+  I stood at the window staring down at the dead
+  man. His eyes were terrible. Like a suicide he looked,
+  I thought. And then it flashed across my mind that
+  only one shot had been heard and that our pistols
+  were identical and fired the same ammunition. The
+  silencer! The silencer could save me. With that
+  removed, the suicide theory might pass muster: at any
+  rate, it would delay other investigations and give me
+  a start ...
+
+  In a matter of a second or two I believe I thought
+  of everything. I did not overlook the danger of leaving
+  finger-prints or foot-marks about. I had not
+  taken off my gloves, and my boots were perfectly dry.
+  In climbing into the room I was most careful to see
+  that I did not mark the window-sill or scratch the
+  paintwork ...
+
+  I stood beside the body and I caught the dead man's
+  hand. It was fat and soft and still warm. The touch
+  of it made me reel with horror. I turned my face
+  away from his so as not to see his eyes again....
+
+  I got the silencer. Parrish had shown it to me and I
+  knew how to detach it....
+
+  I went back through the window as carefully as I
+  had come in. And I pushed the window down. Parrish
+  would have done that, I thought, if he had meant
+  to commit suicide. And then my nerve went. The window
+  frightened me. The blank glass with the silent
+  room beyond;--it reminded me of Parrish's sightless
+  gaze. I turned and ran....
+
+  I did not mean to kill. As there is a God in ...
+
+On that unfinished sentence the confession
+ended.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. Bardy put the bundle of manuscript down on the desk and, dropping
+his eyeglass from his eye, caught it deftly and began to polish it
+vigorously with his pocket handkerchief. As no one spoke, he said:
+
+"That's all. It ends there!"
+
+He looked round the circle of earnest faces. Then Horace Trevert
+crossed to the desk.
+
+"Robin," he said, and held out his hand, "I want to apologize. I ...
+we ... behaved very badly ..."
+
+Robin grasped the boy's hand.
+
+"Not a word about that, Horace, old boy," he said. "Besides, Mary is
+putting all that right, you know!"
+
+"She told me," replied Horace; "and, Robin, I'm tremendously glad!"
+
+"Mr. Greve!"
+
+Robin turned to find Mr. Manderton, large and impressive, at his elbow.
+
+"Might I have a word with you?"
+
+Robin followed the detective across the room to the window.
+
+Mr. Manderton seemed a trifle embarrassed.
+
+"Er--- Mr. Greve," he said, clearing his throat rather nervously, "I
+should like to--er,--offer you my congratulations on the remarkably
+accurate view you took of this case. I should have been able to prove to
+you, I believe, but for this curious interruption, that your view and
+mine practically coincided. It has been a pleasure to work with you,
+sir!"
+
+He cast a hasty glance over his shoulder at the other occupants of the
+room, who were gathered round the desk.
+
+"I'm not a society man, Mr. Greve," he added, "and I have a lot of work
+on my hands regarding the case. So I think I'll run off now ..."
+
+He broke off, gave Robin a large hand, and, looking neither to right nor
+to left, made a hurried exit from the room, taking Inspector Humphries
+with him.
+
+"Now that we are just among ourselves"--the solicitor was speaking--"I
+think I may seize the opportunity of saying a word about Mr. Parrish's
+will. Miss Trevert, as you know, is made principal legatee, but I
+understand from her that she does not propose to accept the inheritance.
+I will not comment on this decision of hers, which does her moral sense,
+at any rate, infinite credit, but I should observe that Mr. Parrish has
+left directions for the payment of an allowance--I may say, a most
+handsome allowance--to Lady Margaret Trevert during her ladyship's
+lifetime. This is a provision over which Miss Trevert's decision, of
+course, can have no influence. I would only remark that, according to
+Mr. Parrish's instructions, this allowance will be paid from the
+dividends on a percentage of his holdings in Hornaway's under the new
+scheme. I have not yet had an opportunity of looking further into Mr.
+Parrish's affairs in the light of the information which Mr. Greve
+obtained in Rotterdam, but I have reason to believe that he kept his
+interest in Hornaway's and his--ahem!--other activities entirely
+separate. If this can be definitely established to my own satisfaction
+and to yours, my dear Miss Trevert, I see no reason why you should not
+modify your decision at least in respect of Mr. Parrish's interest in
+Hornaway's."
+
+Mary Trevert looked at Robin and then at the solicitor.
+
+"No!" she said; "not a penny as far as I am concerned. With Mother the
+case is different. I told her last night of my decision in the matter.
+She disapproves of it. That is why she is not here to-day. But my mind
+is made up."
+
+Mr. Bardy adjusted his eyeglass in his eye and gazed at the girl. His
+face wore an expression of pain mingled with compassion.
+
+"I will see Lady Margaret after lunch," he said rather stiffly.
+
+Then the door opened and Bude appeared.
+
+"Luncheon is served, Miss!"
+
+He stood there, a portly, dignified figure in sober black, solemn of
+visage, sonorous of voice, a living example of the triumph of
+established tradition over the most savage buffetings of Fate. His
+enunciation was, if anything, more mellow, his demeanour more pontifical
+than of yore.
+
+Bude was once more in the service of a County Family.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Yellow Streak, by Williams, Valentine
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Yellow Streak, by Valentine Williams
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Yellow Streak
+
+Author: Valentine Williams
+
+Posting Date: November 13, 2010 [EBook #9974]
+Release Date: February, 2006
+First Posted: November 5, 2003
+[Last updated: July 19, 2011]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW STREAK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Dave Morgan and the PG
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE YELLOW STREAK
+
+BY VALENTINE WILLIAMS
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+      I. THE MASTER OF HARKINGS
+     II. AT TWILIGHT
+    III. A DISCOVERY
+     IV. BETWEEN THE DESK AND THE WINDOW
+      V. IN WHICH BUDE LOOKS AT ROBIN GREVE
+     VI. THE LETTER
+    VII. VOICES IN THE LIBRARY
+   VIII. ROBIN GOES TO MARY
+     IX. MR. MANDERTON
+      X. A SMOKING CHIMNEY
+     XI. "... SPEED THE PARTING GUEST!"
+    XII. MR. MANDERTON is NONPLUSSED
+   XIII. JEEKES
+    XIV. A SHEET OF BLUE PAPER
+     XV. SHADOWS
+    XVI. THE INTRUDER
+   XVII. A FRESH CLUE
+  XVIII. THE SILENT SHOT
+    XIX. MR. MANDERTON LAYS HIS CARDS ON THE TABLE
+     XX. THE CODE KING
+    XXI. A WORD WITH MR. JEEKES
+   XXII. THE MAN WITH THE YELLOW FACE
+  XXIII. TWO'S COMPANY
+   XXIV. THE METAMORPHOSIS OF MR. SCHULZ
+    XXV. THE READING OF THE RIDDLE
+   XXVI. THE FIGURE IN THE DOORWAY
+  XXVII. AN INTERRUPTION FROM BEYOND
+ XXVIII. THE DEATH OF HARTLEY PARRISH
+
+
+
+
+THE YELLOW STREAK
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE MASTER OF HARKINGS
+
+
+Of all the luxuries of which Hartley Parrish's sudden rise to wealth
+gave him possession, Bude, his butler, was the acquisition in which he
+took the greatest delight and pride. Bude was a large and
+comfortable-looking person, triple-chinned like an archdeacon,
+bald-headed except for a respectable and saving edging of dark down,
+clean-shaven, benign of countenance, with a bold nose which to the
+psychologist bespoke both ambition and inborn cleverness. He had a
+thin, tight mouth which in itself alone was a symbol of discreet
+reticence, the hall-mark of the trusted family retainer.
+
+
+Bude had spent his life in the service of the English aristocracy. The
+Earl of Tipperary, Major-General Lord Bannister, the Dowager Marchioness
+of Wiltshire, and Sir Herbert Marcobrunner, Bart., had in turn watched
+his gradual progress from pantry-boy to butler. Bude was a man whose
+maxim had been the French saying, "_Je prends mon bien o� je le
+trouve_."
+
+In his thirty years' service he had always sought to discover and draw
+from those sources of knowledge which were at his disposal. From
+MacTavish, who had supervised Lord Tipperary's world-famous gardens, he
+had learnt a great deal about flowers, so that the arrangement of the
+floral decorations was always one of the features at Hartley Parrish's
+_soign�_ dinner-parties. From Brun, the unsurpassed _chef_, whom Lord
+Bannister had picked up when serving with the Guards in Egypt, he had
+gathered sufficient knowledge of the higher branches of the cuisine to
+enable Hartley Parrish to leave the arrangement of the menu in his
+butler's hands.
+
+Bude would have been the first to admit that, socially speaking, his
+present situation was not the equal of the positions he had held. There
+was none of the staid dignity about his present employer which was
+inborn in men like Lord Tipperary or Lord Bannister, and which Sir
+Herbert Marcobrunner, with the easy assimilative faculty of his race,
+had very successfully acquired. Below middle height, thick-set and
+powerfully built, with a big head, narrow eyes, and a massive chin,
+Hartley Parrish, in his absorbed concentration on his business, had no
+time for the acquisition or practice of the Eton manner.
+
+It was characteristic of Parrish that, seeing Bude at a dinner-party at
+Marcobrunner's, he should have engaged him on the spot. It took Bude a
+week to get over his shock at the manner in which the offer was made.
+Parrish had approached him as he was supervising the departure of the
+guests. Waving aside the footman who offered to help him into his
+overcoat, Parrish had asked Bude point-blank what wages he was getting.
+Bude mentioned the generous remuneration he was receiving from Sir
+Herbert Marcobrunner, whereupon Parrish had remarked:
+
+"Come to me and I'll double it. I'll give you a week to think it over.
+Let my secretary know!"
+
+After a few discreet enquiries, Bude, faithful to his maxim, had
+accepted Parrish's offer. Marcobrunner was furiously angry, but, being
+anxious to interest Parrish in a deal, sagely kept his feelings to
+himself. And Bude had never regretted the change. He found Parrish an
+exacting, but withal a just and a generous master, and he was not long
+in realizing that, as long as he kept Harkings, Parrish's country place
+where he spent the greater part of his time, running smoothly according
+to Parrish's schedule, he could count on a life situation.
+
+The polish of manner, the sober dignity of dress, acquired from years of
+acute observation in the service of the nobility, were to be seen as, at
+the hour of five, in the twilight of this bleak autumn afternoon, Bude
+moved majestically into the lounge-hall of Harkings and leisurely
+pounded the gong for tea.
+
+The muffled notes of the gong swelled out brazenly through the silent
+house. They echoed down the softly carpeted corridors to the library
+where the master of the house sat at his desk. For days he had been
+immersed in the figures of the new issue which Hornaway's, the vast
+engineering business of his creation, was about to put on the market.
+They reverberated up the fine old oak staircase to the luxurious Louis
+XV bedroom, where Lady Margaret Trevert lay on her bed idly smiling
+through an amusing novel. They crashed through the thickly padded baize
+doors leading to the servants' hall, where, at sixpence a hundred,
+Parrish's man, Jay, was partnering Lady Margaret's maid against Mrs.
+Heever, the housekeeper, and Robert, the chauffeur, at a friendly game
+of bridge. And they even boomed distantly into the far-away
+billiard-room and broke into the talk which Robin Greve was having with
+Mary Trevert.
+
+"Damn!" exclaimed Greve savagely, as the distant gonging came to his
+ears.
+
+"It's the gong for tea," said Mary demurely.
+
+She was sitting on one of the big leather sofas lining the long room.
+Robin, as he gazed down at her from where he stood with his back against
+the edge of the billiard-table, thought what an attractive picture she
+made in the half-light.
+
+The lamps over the table were lit, but the rest of the room was almost
+dark. In that lighting the thickly waving dark hair brought out the fine
+whiteness of the girl's skin. There was love, and a great desire for
+love, in her large dark eyes, but the clear-cut features, the
+well-shaped chin, and the firm mouth, the lips a little full, spoke of
+ambition and the love of power.
+
+"I've been here three whole days," said Robin, "and I've not had two
+words with you alone, Mary. And hardly have I got you to myself for a
+quiet game of pills when that rotten gong goes ..."
+
+"I'm sorry you're disappointed at missing your game," the girl replied
+mischievously, "but I expect you will be able to get a game with Horace
+or one of the others after tea ..."
+
+Robin kicked the carpet savagely.
+
+"You know perfectly well I don't want to play billiards ..."
+
+He looked up and caught the girl's eye. For a fraction of a second he
+saw in it the expression which every man at least once in his life looks
+to see in the eyes of one particular woman. In the girl's dark-blue eyes
+fringed with long black lashes he saw the dumb appeal, the mute
+surrender, which, as surely as the white flag on the battlements in war,
+is the signal of capitulation in woman.
+
+But the expression was gone on the instant. It passed so swiftly that,
+for a second, Robin, seeing the gently mocking glance that succeeded it,
+wondered whether he had been mistaken.
+
+But he was a man of action--a glance at his long, well-moulded head, his
+quick, wide-open eye, and his square jaw would have told you that--and
+he spoke.
+
+"It's no use beating about the bush," he said. "Mary, I've got so fond
+of you that I'm just miserable when you're away from me ..."
+
+"Oh, Robin, please ..."
+
+Mary Trevert stood up and remained standing, her head turned a little
+away from him, a charming silhouette in her heather-blue shooting-suit.
+
+The young man took her listless hand.
+
+"My dear," he said, "you and I have been pals all our lives. It was
+only at the front that I began to realize just how much you meant to me.
+And now I know I can't do without you. I've never met any one who has
+been to me just what you are. And, Mary, I must have you as my wife ..."
+
+The girl remained motionless. She kept her face averted. The room seemed
+very still.
+
+"Oh, Robin, please ..." she murmured again.
+
+Resolutely the young man put an arm about her and drew her to him.
+Slowly, reluctantly, she let him have his way. But she would not look at
+him.
+
+"Oh, my dear," he whispered, kissing her hair, "don't you care a
+little?"
+
+She remained silent.
+
+"Won't you look at me, Mary?"
+
+There was a hint of huskiness in his voice. He raised her face to his.
+
+"I saw in your eyes just now that you cared for me," he whispered; "oh,
+my Mary, say that you do!"
+
+Then he bent down and kissed her. For a brief instant their lips met and
+he felt the caress of the girl's arm about his neck.
+
+"Oh, Robin!" she said.
+
+That was all.
+
+But then she drew away.
+
+Reluctantly the man let her go. The colour had faded from his cheeks
+when she looked at him again as he stood facing her in the twilight of
+the billiard-room.
+
+"Robin, dear," she said, "I'm going to hurt you."
+
+The young man seemed to have had a premonition of what was coming, for
+he betrayed no sign of surprise, but remained motionless, very erect,
+very pale.
+
+"Dear," said the girl with a little despairing shrug, "it's hopeless! We
+can't afford to marry!"
+
+"Not yet, I know," said Robin, "but I'm getting on well, Mary, and in
+another year or two ..."
+
+The girl looked down at the point of her little brogue shoe.
+
+"I don't know what you will think of me," she said, "but I can't
+accept ... I can't face ... I ..."
+
+"You can't face the idea of being the wife of a man who has his way to
+make. Is that it?"
+
+The voice was rather stern.
+
+The girl looked up impulsively.
+
+"I can't, Robin. I should never make you happy. Mother and I are as poor
+as church-mice. All the money in the family goes to keep Horace in the
+Army and pay for my clothes."
+
+She looked disdainfully at her pretty suit.
+
+"All this," she went on with a little hopeless gesture indicating her
+tailor-made, "is Mother's investment. No, no, it's true ... I can tell
+you as a friend, Robin, dear, we are living on our capital until I have
+caught a rich husband ..."
+
+"Oh, my dear," said Robin softly, "don't say things like that ..."
+
+The girl laughed a little defiantly.
+
+"But it's true," she answered. "The war has halved Mother's income and
+there's nothing between us and bankruptcy but a year or so ... unless I
+get married!"
+
+Her voice trembled a little and she turned away.
+
+"Mary," said the young man hoarsely, "for God's sake, don't do that!"
+
+He moved a step towards her, but she drew back.
+
+"It's all right," she said with the tears glistening wet on her face,
+and dabbed at her eyes with her tiny handkerchief, "but, oh, Robin boy,
+why couldn't you have held your tongue?"
+
+"I suppose I had no right to speak ..." the young man began.
+
+The girl sighed.
+
+"I oughtn't to say it ... now," she said slowly, and looked across at
+Robin with shining eyes, "but, Robin dear, I'm ... I'm glad you did!"
+
+She paused a moment as though turning something over in her mind.
+
+"I've ... I've got something to tell you, Robin," she began. "No, stay
+where you are! We must be sensible now."
+
+She paused and looked at him.
+
+"Robin," she said slowly, "I've promised to marry somebody else ..."
+
+There was a moment's silence.
+
+"Who is it?" Robin asked in a hard voice.
+
+The girl made no answer.
+
+"Who is it? Do I know him?"
+
+Still the girl was silent, but she gave a hardly perceptible nod.
+
+"Not ...? No, no, Mary, it isn't true? It can't be true?"
+
+The girl nodded, her eyes to the ground.
+
+"It's a secret still," she said. "No one knows but Mother. Hartley
+doesn't want it announced yet!"
+
+The sound of the Christian name suddenly seemed to infuriate Greve.
+
+"By God!" he cried, "it shan't be! You must be mad, Mary, to think of
+marrying a man like Hartley Parrish. A fellow who's years older than
+you, who thinks of nothing but money, who stood out of the war and made
+a fortune while men of his own age were doing the fighting for him! It's
+unthinkable ... it's ... it's damnable to think of a gross, ill-bred
+creature like Parrish ..."
+
+"Robin!" the girl cried, "you seem to forget that we're staying in his
+house. In spite of all you say he seems to be good enough for you to
+come and stay with ..."
+
+"I only came because you were to be here. You know that perfectly well.
+I admit one oughtn't to blackguard one's host, but, Mary, you must see
+that this marriage is absolutely out of the question!"
+
+The girl began to bridle up,
+
+"Why?" she asked loftily.
+
+"Because ... because Parrish is not the sort of man who will make you
+happy ..."
+
+"And why not, may I ask? He's very kind and very generous, and I believe
+he likes me ..."
+
+Robin Greve made a gesture of despair.
+
+"My dear girl," he said, trying to control himself to speak quietly,
+"what do you know about this man? Nothing. But there are beastly stories
+circulating about his life ..."
+
+Mary Trevert laughed cynically.
+
+"My dear old Robin," she said, "they tell stories about every bachelor.
+And I hardly think you are an unbiassed judge ..."
+
+Robin Greve was pacing up and down the floor.
+
+"You're crazy, Mary," he said, stopping in front of her, "to dream you
+can ever be happy with a man like Hartley Parrish. The man's a ruthless
+egoist. He thinks of nothing but money and he's out to buy you just
+exactly as you ..."
+
+"As I am ready to sell myself!" the girl echoed. "And I _am_ ready,
+Robin. It's all very well for you to stand there and preach ideals at
+me, but I'm sick and disgusted at the life we've been leading for the
+past three years, hovering on the verge of ruin all the time, dunned by
+tradesmen and having to borrow even from servants ... yes, from old
+servants of the family ... to pay Mother's bridge debts. Mother's a good
+sort. Father spent all her money for her and she was brought up in
+exactly the same helpless way as she brought up me. I can do absolutely
+nothing except the sort of elementary nursing which we all learnt in the
+war, and if I don't marry well Mother will have to keep a boarding-house
+or do something ghastly like that. I'm not going to pretend that I'm
+thinking only of her, because I'm not. I can't face a long engagement
+with no prospects except castles in Spain. I don't mean to be callous,
+Robin, but I expect I am naturally hard. Hartley Parrish is a good sort.
+He's very fond of me, and he will see that Mother lives comfortably for
+the rest of her life. I've promised to marry him because I like him and
+he's a suitable match. And I don't see by what right you try and run him
+down to me behind his back! If it's jealousy, then it shows a very petty
+spirit!"
+
+Robin Greve stepped close up to Mary Trevert. His eyes were very angry
+and his jaw was set very square.
+
+"If you are determined to sell yourself to the highest bidder," he said,
+"I suppose there's no stopping you. But you're making a mistake. If
+Parrish were all you claim for him, you might not repent of his marriage
+so long as you did not care for somebody else. But I know you love me,
+and it breaks my heart to see you blundering into everlasting
+unhappiness ..."
+
+"At least Hartley will be able to keep me," the girl flashed out.
+Directly she had spoken she regretted her words.
+
+A red flush spread slowly over Robin Greve's face.
+
+Then he laughed drily.
+
+"You won't be the first woman he's kept!" he retorted, and stamped out
+of the billiard-room.
+
+The girl gave a little gasp. Then she reddened with anger.
+
+"How dare he?" she cried, stamping her foot; "how dare he?"
+
+She sank on the lounge and, burying her face in her hands, burst into
+tears.
+
+"Oh, Robin, Robin, dear!" she sobbed--incomprehensibly, for she was a
+woman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+AT TWILIGHT
+
+
+There is a delicious snugness, a charming lack of formality, about the
+ceremony of afternoon tea in an English country-house--it is much too
+indefinite a rite to dignify it by the name of meal--which makes it the
+most pleasant reunion of the day. For English country-house parties
+consist, for the most part, of a succession of meals to which the guests
+flock the more congenially as, in the interval, they have contrived to
+avoid one another's companionship.
+
+And so, scarcely had the last reverberation of Bude's measured gonging
+died away than the French window leading from the lounge-hall on to the
+terrace was pushed open and two of Hartley Parrish's guests emerged from
+the falling darkness without into the pleasant comfort of the firelit
+room.
+
+They were an oddly matched pair. The one was a tubby little man with
+short bristly grey hair and a short bristly grey moustache to match. His
+stumpy legs looked ridiculous in his baggy golf knickers of rough tweed,
+which he wore with gaiters extending half-way up his short, stout
+calves. As he came in, he slung off the heavy tweed shooting-cloak he
+had been wearing and placed it with his Homburg hat on a chair.
+
+This was Dr. Romain, whose name thus written seems indecently naked
+without the string of complementary initials indicative of the honours
+and degrees which years of bacteriological research had heaped upon him.
+His companion was a tall, slim, fair-haired young man, about as good a
+specimen of the young Englishman turned out by the English public school
+as one could find. He was extremely good-looking with a proud eye and
+finely chiselled features, but the suggestion of youth in his face and
+figure was countered by a certain poise, a kind of latent seriousness
+which contrasted strangely with the general cheery _insouciance_ of his
+type.
+
+A soldier would have spotted the symptoms at once, "Five years of war!"
+would have been his verdict--that long and strange entry into life of so
+many thousands of England's manhood which impressed the stamp of
+premature seriousness on all those who came through. And Captain Sir
+Horace Trevert, Bart., D.S.O., had gone from his famous school straight
+into a famous regiment, had won his decoration before he was twenty-one,
+and been twice wounded into the bargain.
+
+"Where's everybody?" queried the doctor, rubbing his hands at the
+blazing log-fire.
+
+"Robin and Mary went off to play billiards," said the young man, "and I
+left old Parrish after lunch settling down for an afternoon's work in
+the library ..."
+
+He crossed the room to the fire and stood with his back to the flame.
+
+"What a worker that man is!" ejaculated the doctor. "He had one of his
+secretaries down this morning with a car full of portfolios,
+blue-prints, specifications, and God knows what else. Parrish polished
+the whole lot off and packed the fellow back to London before mid-day.
+Some of Hornaway's people who were waiting went in next, and he was
+through with them by lunch-time!"
+
+Trevert wagged his head in admiration.
+
+"And he told me he wanted to have a quiet week-end!" he said. "That's
+why he has no secretary living in the house."
+
+"A quiet week-end!" repeated Romain drily. "Ye gods!"
+
+"He's a marvel for work," said the young man.
+
+"He certainly is," replied the doctor. "He's done wonders with
+Hornaway's. When he took the place over at the beginning of the war,
+they were telling me, it was a little potty concern making toy air guns
+or lead soldiers or something of the sort. And they never stop coining
+money now, it seems. Parrish must be worth millions ..."
+
+"Lucky devil!" said Trevert genially.
+
+"Ah!" observed the doctor sententiously, "but he's had to work for it,
+mark you! He's had the most extraordinary life, they tell me. He was at
+one period of his career a bartender on the Rand, a man was saying at
+the club the other day. But most of his life he's lived in Canada, I
+gather. He was telling us the other evening, before you and Mary came
+down, that he was once a brakeman on the Canadian Pacific Railway. He
+said he invested all his savings in books on engineering and read them
+in his brakeman's van on his trips across the Dominion. Ah! he's a fine
+fellow!"
+
+He lowered his voice discreetly.
+
+"And a devilish good match, eh, Horace?"
+
+The young man flushed slightly.
+
+"Yes," he said unwillingly.
+
+"A dam' good match for somebody," urged the doctor with a malicious
+twinkle in his eye.
+
+"Here, Doc," said Horace, suddenly turning on him, "you stick to your
+bugs and germs. What do you know about matchmaking, anyway?"
+
+Dr. Romain chuckled.
+
+"We bacteriologists are trained observers. One learns a lot watching the
+life and habits of the bacillus, Horace, my boy. And between ourselves,
+Parrish would be a lucky fellow if ..."
+
+Trevert turned to him. His face was quite serious, and there was a
+little touch of hauteur in his voice. He was the 17th Baronet.
+
+"My dear Doc," he said, "aren't you going a bit fast? Parrish is a very
+good chap, but one knows nothing about him ..."
+
+Sagely the doctor nodded his grizzled head.
+
+"That's true," he agreed. "He appears to have no relatives and nobody
+over here seems to have heard of him before the war. A man was saying at
+the Athenaeum the other day ..."
+
+Trevert touched his elbow. Bude had appeared, portly, imperturbable,
+bearing a silver tray set out with the appliances for tea.
+
+"Bude," cried Trevert, "don't tell me there are no tea-cakes again!"
+
+"On the contrairey, sir," answered the butler in the richly sonorous
+voice pitched a little below the normal register which he employed
+abovestairs, "the cook has had her attention drawn to it. There are
+tea-cakes, sir!"
+
+With a certain dramatic effect--for Bude was a trifle theatrical in
+everything he did--he whipped the cover off a dish and displayed a
+smoking pile of deliciously browned scones.
+
+"Bude," said Trevert, "when I'm a Field Marshal, I'll see you get the
+O.B.E. for this!"
+
+The butler smiled a nicely regulated three-by-one smile, a little
+deprecatory as was his wont. Then, like a tank taking a corner, he
+wheeled majestically and turned to cross the lounge. To reach the green
+baize door leading to the servants' quarters he had to cross the outer
+hall from which led corridors on the right and left. That on the right
+led to the billiard-room; that on the left to the big drawing-room with
+the library beyond.
+
+As Bude reached the great screen of tooled Spanish leather which
+separated a corner of the lounge from the outer hall, Robin Greve came
+hastily through the glass door of the corridor leading from the
+billiard-room. The butler with a pleasant smile drew back a little to
+allow the young man to pass, thinking he was going into the lounge for
+tea.
+
+"Tea is ..." he began, but abruptly ended the sentence on catching sight
+of the young man's face. For Robin, habitually so self-possessed, looked
+positively haggard. His face was set and there was a weary look in his
+eyes. The young man appeared so utterly different from his wonted self
+that Bude fairly stared at him.
+
+But Robin, without paying the least attention either to the butler or to
+the sound of voices in the lounge, strode across the outer hall and
+disappeared through the glass door of the corridor leading to the great
+drawing-room and the library.
+
+Bude stood an instant gazing after him in perplexity, then moved across
+the hall to the servants' quarters.
+
+In the meantime in the lounge the little doctor snapped the case of his
+watch and opined that he wanted his tea.
+
+"Where on earth has everybody got to? What's become of Lady Margaret? I
+haven't seen her since lunch...."
+
+That lady answered his question by appearing in person.
+
+Lady Margaret was tall and hard and glittering. Like so many
+Englishwomen of good family, she was so saturated with the traditions of
+her class that her manner was almost indistinguishable from that of a
+man. Well-mannered, broadminded, wholly cynical, and absolutely
+fearless, she went through life exactly as though she were following a
+path carefully taped out for her by a suitably instructed Providence.
+Somewhere beneath the mask of smiling indifference she presented so
+bravely to a difficult world, she had a heart, but so carefully did she
+hide it that Horace had only discovered it on a certain grey November
+morning when he had started out for the first time on active service.
+For ever afterwards a certain weighing-machine at Waterloo Station, by
+which he had had a startling vision of his mother standing with heaving
+bosom and tear-stained face, possessed in his mind the attributes of
+some secret and sacred shrine.
+
+But now she was cool and well-gowned and self-contained as ever.
+
+"What a perfectly dreadful day!" she exclaimed in her pleasant,
+well-bred voice. "Horace, you must positively go and see Henry
+What's-his-name in the Foreign Office and get me a passport for Cannes.
+The weather in England in the winter is incredibly exaggerated!"
+
+"At least," said the doctor, rubbing his back as he warmed himself at
+the fire, "we have fuel in England. Give me England, climate and all,
+but don't take away my fire. The sun doesn't shine on the Riviera at
+night, you know!"
+
+Lady Margaret busied herself at the tea-table with its fine Queen Anne
+silver and dainty yellow cups. It was the custom at Harkings to serve
+tea in the winter without other illumination than the light of the
+great log-fire that spat and leaped in the open hearth. Beyond the
+semi-circle of ruddy light the great lounge was all in darkness, and
+beyond that again was the absolute stillness of the English country on a
+winter's evening.
+
+And so with a gentle clatter of teacups and the accompaniment of
+pleasantly modulated voices they sat and chatted--Lady Margaret, who was
+always surprising in what she said, the doctor who was incredibly
+opinionated, and young Trevert, who like all of the younger generation
+was daringly flippant. He was airing his views on what he called "Boche
+music" when he broke off and cried:
+
+"Hullo, here's Mary! Mary, you owe me half a crown. Bude has come up to
+scratch and there are tea-cakes after ... but, I say, what on earth's
+the matter?"
+
+The girl had come into the room and was standing in the centre of the
+lounge in the ruddy glow of the fire. Her face was deathly pale and she
+was shuddering violently. She held her little cambric handkerchief
+crushed up into a ball to her lips. Her eyes were fixed, almost glazed,
+like one who walks in a trance.
+
+She stood like that for an instant surveying the group--Lady Margaret, a
+silver tea-pot in one hand, looking at her with uplifted brows. Horace,
+who in his amazement had taken a step forward, and the doctor at his
+side scrutinizing her beneath his shaggy eyebrows.
+
+"My dear Mary "--it was Lady Margaret's smooth and pleasant voice which
+broke the silence--"whatever is the matter? Have you seen a ghost!"
+
+The girl swayed a little and opened her lips as if to speak. A log,
+crashing from the fire into the grate, fell upon the silence of the
+darkening room. It seemed to break the spell.
+
+"Hartley!"
+
+The name came hoarsely from the girl. Everybody, except Lady Margaret,
+sprang to his feet It was the doctor who spoke first.
+
+"Miss Mary," he said, "you seem frightened, what ..."
+
+His voice was very soothing.
+
+Mary Trevert made a vague gesture towards the shadows about the
+staircase.
+
+"There ... in the library ... he's got the door locked ... there was a
+shot ..."
+
+Then she suddenly screamed aloud.
+
+In a stride both the doctor and her brother were by her side. But she
+motioned them away.
+
+"I'm frightened about Hartley," she said in a low voice, "please go at
+once and see what ... that shot ... and he doesn't answer!"
+
+"Come on, Doctor!"
+
+Horace Trevert was halfway to the big screen separating the lounge from
+the outer hall. As he passed the bell, he pressed it.
+
+"Send Bude to us, Mother, when he comes, please!" he called as he and
+the doctor hurried away.
+
+Lady Margaret had risen and stood, one arm about her daughter, on the
+Persian rug spread out before the cheerful fire. So the women stood in
+the firelight in Hartley Parrish's house, surrounded by all the
+treasures which his wealth had bought, and listened to the footsteps
+clattering away through the silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A DISCOVERY
+
+
+Harkings was not a large house. Some three hundred years ago it had been
+a farm, but in the intervening years successive owners had so altered it
+by pulling down and building on, that, when it passed into the
+possession of Hartley Parrish, little else than the open fireplace in
+the lounge remained to tell of the original farm. It was a queer,
+rambling house of only two stories whose elongated shape was accentuated
+by the additional wing which Hartley Parrish had built on.
+
+For the decoration of his country-house, Parrish had placed himself
+unreservedly in the hands of the firm entrusted with the work. Their
+architect was given _carte blanche_ to produce a house of character out
+of the rather dingy, out-of-date country villa which Harkings was when
+Hartley Parrish, attracted by the view from the gardens, first
+discovered it.
+
+The architect had gone to his work with a zest. He had ripped up walls
+and ceilings and torn down irrational matchwood partitions, discovering
+some fine old oak wainscot and the blackened roof-beams of the original
+farmstead. In the upshot he transformed Harkings into a very fair
+semblance of a late Jacobean house, fitted with every modern convenience
+and extremely comfortable. Furnished throughout with genuine "period"
+furniture, with fine dark oak panelling and parquet floors, it was
+altogether picturesque. Neither within nor without, it is true, would a
+connoisseur have been able to give it a date.
+
+But that did not worry Hartley Parrish. He loved a bargain and he had
+bought the house cheap. It was situated in beautiful country and was
+within easy reach by car of his town-house in St. James's Square where
+he lived for the greater part of the week. Last but not least Harkings
+was the casket enshrining a treasure, the realization of a lifelong
+wish. This was the library, Parrish's own room, designed by himself and
+furnished to his own individual taste.
+
+It stood apart from the rest of the house at the end of the wing which
+Parrish had constructed. The wing consisted of a single ground floor and
+contained the drawing-room--which was scarcely ever used, as both
+Parrish and his guests preferred the more congenial surroundings of the
+lounge--and the library. A long corridor panelled in oak led off the
+hall to the new wing. On to this corridor both the drawing-room and the
+library gave. Halfway down the corridor a small passage ran off. It
+separated the drawing-room from the library and ended in a door leading
+into the gardens at the back of the house.
+
+It was to the new wing that Horace Trevert and Dr. Romain now hastened.
+They hurried across the hall, where the big lamp of dulled glass threw a
+soft yellow light, and entered the corridor through the heavy oak door
+which shut it off from the hall. The corridor was wrapt in silence.
+Halfway down, where the small passage ran to the garden door, the
+electric light was burning.
+
+Horace Trevert ran down the corridor ahead of the doctor and was the
+first to reach the library door. He knocked sharply, then turned the
+handle. The door was locked.
+
+"Hartley!" he cried and rapped again. "Ha-a-artley! Open the door! It's
+me, Horace!"
+
+Again he knocked and rattled the handle. Not a sound came from the
+locked room. There was an instant's silence. Horace and the doctor
+exchanged an interrogatory look.
+
+From behind the closed door came the steady ticking of a clock. The
+silence was so absolute that both men heard it.
+
+Then the door at the end of the corridor was flung open and Bude
+appeared. He was running at a quick ambling trot, his heavy tread
+shaking the passage.
+
+"Oh? sir," he cried, "whatever is it? What has happened?"
+
+Horace spoke quickly, incisively.
+
+"Something's happened to Mr. Parrish, Bude," he said. "The door's locked
+and he doesn't answer. We'll have to break the door down."
+
+Bude shook his head.
+
+"It's solid oak, sir," he began.
+
+Then he raised his hand.
+
+"Pardon me, gentlemen," he said, as though an idea had struck him. "If
+we were to go out by the garden door here, we might get in through the
+window. We could break the glass if needs be!"
+
+"That's it!" exclaimed Horace. "Come on, Doctor!"
+
+He dashed down the corridor towards the little passage. The doctor laid
+a hand on Bude's arm.
+
+"One of us had better stay here," he said with a meaning glance at the
+closed door.
+
+The butler raised an affrighted face to his.
+
+"Go with Sir Horace, Bude," said the doctor. "I'll stay!"
+
+Outside in the gardens of Harkings it was a raw, damp evening,
+pitch-black now, with little gusts of wind which shook the naked bushes
+of the rosery. The garden door led by a couple of shallow steps on to a
+gravel path which ran all along the back of the house. The path extended
+right up to the wall of the house. On the other side it flanked the
+rosery.
+
+The glass door was banging to and fro in the night wind as Bude, his
+coat-collar turned up, hurried out into the darkness. The library, which
+formed the corner of the new wing, had two windows, the one immediately
+above the gravel path looking out over the rosery, the other round the
+corner of the house giving on the same path, beyond which ran a high
+hedge of clipped box surrounding the so-called Pleasure Ground, a plot
+of smooth grass with a sundial in the centre.
+
+A glow of light came from the library window, and in its radiance Bude
+saw silhouetted the tall, well-knit figure of young Trevert. As the
+butler came up, the boy raised something in his hand and there was a
+crash of broken glass.
+
+The curtains were drawn, but with the breaking of the window they began
+to flap about. With the iron grating he had picked up from the drain
+below the window young Trevert smashed the rest of the glass away, then
+thrust an arm through the empty window-frame, fumbling for the
+window-catch.
+
+"The catch is not fastened," he whispered, and with a resolute thrust he
+pushed the window up. The curtains leapt up wildly, revealing a glimpse
+of the pleasant, book-lined room. Both men from the darkness without saw
+Parrish's desk littered with his papers and his habitual chair beyond
+it, pushed back empty.
+
+Trevert turned an instant, a hand on the window-sill.
+
+"Bude," he said, "there's no one there!"
+
+"Best look and see, sir," replied the butler, his coat-tails flapping in
+the wind.
+
+Trevert hoisted himself easily on to the window-sill, knelt there for an
+instant, then thrust his legs over the sill and dropped into the room.
+As he did so he stumbled, cried aloud.
+
+Then the heavy grey curtains were flung back and the butler saw the
+boy's face, rather white, at the open window.
+
+"My God," he said slowly, "he's dead!"
+
+A moment later Dr. Romain, waiting in the corridor, heard the key turn
+in the lock of the library door. The door was flung open. Horace Trevert
+stood there, silhouetted in a dull glow of light from the room. He was
+pointing to the open window, beneath which Hartley Parrish lay on his
+back motionless.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+BETWEEN THE DESK AND THE WINDOW
+
+
+Hartley Parrish's library was a splendid room, square in shape, lofty
+and well proportioned. It was lined with books arranged in shelves of
+dark brown oak running round the four walls, but sunk level with them
+and reaching up to a broad band of perfectly plain white plasterwork.
+
+It was a cheerful, comfortable, eminently modern room, half library,
+half office. The oak was solid, but uncompromisingly new. The great
+leather armchairs were designed on modern lines--for comfort rather
+than for appearance. There were no pictures; but vases of chrysanthemums
+stood here and there about the room. A dictaphone in a case was in a
+corner, but beside it was a little table on which were set out some rare
+bits of old Chelsea. There was also a gramophone, but it was enclosed in
+a superb case of genuine old black-and-gold lacquer. The very books in
+their shelves carried on this contrast of business with recreation. For
+while one set of shelves contained row upon row of technical works,
+company reports, and all manner of business reference books bound in
+leather, on another were to be found the vellum-bound volumes of the
+Kelmscott Press.
+
+A sober note of grey or mole colour was the colour scheme of the room.
+The heavy pile carpet which stretched right up to the walls was of this
+quiet neutral shade: so were the easy-chairs, and the colour of the
+heavy curtains, which hung in front of the two high windows, was in
+harmony with the restful decorative scheme of the room.
+
+The massive oaken door stood opposite the window overlooking the
+rosery--the window through which Horace Trevert had entered. Parrish's
+desk was in front of this window, between it and the door in
+consequence. By the other window, which, as has been stated, looked out
+on the clipped hedge surrounding the Pleasure Ground, was the little
+table with the Chelsea china, the dictaphone, and one of the
+easy-chairs. The centre of the room was clear so that nothing lay
+between the door and the carved mahogany chair at the desk. Here, as
+they all knew, Parrish was accustomed to sit when working, his back to
+the door, his face to the window overlooking the rosery.
+
+The desk stood about ten feet from the window. On it was a large brass
+lamp which cast a brilliant circle of light upon the broad flat top of
+the desk with its orderly array of letter-trays, its handsome
+silver-edged blotter and silver and tortoise-shell writing
+appurtenances. By the light of this lamp Dr. Romain, looking from the
+doorway, saw that Hartley Parrish's chair was vacant, pushed back a
+little way from the desk. The rest of the room was wrapt in unrevealing
+half-light.
+
+"He's there by the window!"
+
+Horace was whispering to the doctor. Romain strode over to the desk and
+picked up the lamp. As he did so, his eyes fell upon the pale face of
+Hartley Parrish. He lay on his back in the space between the desk and
+the window. His head was flung back, his eyes, bluish-grey,--the narrow,
+rather expressionless eyes of the successful business man,--were wide
+open and fixed in a sightless stare, his rather full mouth, with its
+clean-shaven lips, was rigid and stern. With the broad forehead, the
+prominent brows, the bold, aggressive nose, and the square bony jaw, it
+was a fighter's face, a fine face save for the evil promise of that
+sensuous mouth. So thought the doctor with the swift psychological
+process of his trade.
+
+From the face his gaze travelled to the body. And then Romain could not
+repress an involuntary start, albeit he saw what he had half expected to
+see. The fleshy right hand of Hartley Parrish grasped convulsively an
+automatic pistol. His clutching index finger was crooked about the
+trigger and the barrel was pressed into the yielding pile of the carpet.
+His other hand with clawing fingers was flung out away from the body on
+the other side. One leg was stretched out to its fullest extent and the
+foot just touched the hem of the grey window curtains. The other leg was
+slightly drawn up.
+
+The doctor raised the lamp from the desk and, dropping on one knee,
+placed it on the ground beside the body. With gentle fingers he
+manipulated the eyes, opened the blue serge coat and waistcoat which
+Parrish was wearing. As he unbuttoned the waistcoat, he laid bare a dark
+red stain on the breast of the fine silk shirt. He opened shirt and
+under-vest, bent an ear to the still form, and then, with a little
+helpless gesture, rose to his feet.
+
+"Dead?" queried Trevert.
+
+Romain nodded shortly.
+
+"Shot through the heart!" he said.
+
+"He looked so ... so limp," the boy said, shrinking back a little, "I
+thought he was dead. But I never thought old Hartley would have done a
+thing like that ..."
+
+The doctor pursed up his lips as if to speak. But he remained silent for
+a moment. Then he said:
+
+"Horace, the police must be informed. We can do that on the telephone.
+This room must be left just as it is until they come. I can do nothing
+more for poor Hartley. And we shall have to tell the others. I'd better
+do that myself. I wonder where Greve is? I haven't seen him all the
+afternoon. As a barrister he should be able to advise us about--er, the
+technicalities: the police and all that ..."
+
+Rapid footsteps reverberated down the corridor. Robin Greve appeared at
+the door. The fat and frightened face of Bude appeared over his
+shoulder.
+
+"Good God, Doctor!" he cried, "what's this Bude tells me?"
+
+The doctor cleared his throat.
+
+"Our poor friend is dead, Greve," he said.
+
+"But how? How?"
+
+Greve stood opposite the doctor in the centre of the library. He had
+switched on the light at the door as he had come in, and the room was
+flooded with soft light thrown by concealed lamps set around the cornice
+of the ceiling.
+
+"Look!" responded the doctor by way of answer and stepped aside to let
+the young man come up to the desk. "He has a pistol in his hand!"
+
+Robin Greve took a step forward and stopped dead. He gazed for an
+instant without speaking on the dead face of his host and rival.
+
+"Suicide!"
+
+It was an affirmation rather than a question, and the little doctor took
+it up. He was not a young man and the shock and the excitement were
+beginning to tell on his nerves.
+
+"I am not a police surgeon," he said with some asperity; "in fact, I may
+say I have not seen a dead body since my hospital days. I ... I ... know
+nothing about these things. This is a matter for the police. They must
+be summoned at once. Where's Bude?"
+
+Robin Greve turned quickly.
+
+"Get on to the police station at Stevenish at once, Bude," he ordered.
+"Do you know the Inspector?"
+
+"Yessir," the butler answered in a hollow voice. His hands were
+trembling violently, and he seemed to control himself with difficulty.
+"Mr. Humphries, sir!"
+
+"Well, ring him up and tell him that Mr. Parrish ... Hullo, what do all
+these people want?"
+
+There was a commotion at the door. Frightened faces were framed in the
+doorway. Outside there was the sound of a woman whimpering. A tall, dark
+young man in a tail coat came in quickly. He stopped short when he saw
+the solemn faces of the group at the desk. It was Parrish's man, Jay.
+He stepped forward to the desk and in a frightened sort of way peered at
+the body as it lay on the floor.
+
+"Oh, sir," he said breathlessly, addressing Greve, "what ever has
+happened to Mr. Parrish? It can't be true ..."
+
+Greve put his hand on the young man's shoulder.
+
+"I'm sorry to say it is true, Jay," he answered.
+
+"He was very good to us all," the valet replied in a broken voice. He
+remained by the desk staring at the body in a dazed fashion.
+
+"Who is that crying outside?" Greve demanded. "This is no place for
+women ..."
+
+"It's Mrs. Heever, the housekeeper," Bude answered.
+
+"Well, she must go back to her room. Send all those servants away. Jay,
+will you see to it? And take care that Lady Margaret and Miss Trevert
+don't come in here, either."
+
+"Sir Horace is with them, sir, in the lounge," said Jay and went out.
+
+"I'll go to them. I think I'd better," exclaimed the doctor. "I shall be
+in the lounge when they want me. A dreadful affair! Dreadful!"
+
+The little doctor bustled out, leaving Greve and the butler alone in the
+room with the mortal remains of Hartley Parrish lying where he had
+fallen on the soft grey carpet.
+
+"Now, Bude," said Greve incisively, "get on to the police at once. You'd
+better telephone from the servant's hall. I'll have a look round here in
+the meantime!"
+
+Bude stood for an instant irresolute. He glanced shrewdly at the young
+man.
+
+"Go on," said Robin quickly; "what are you waiting for, man? There's no
+time to lose."
+
+Slowly the butler turned and tiptoed away, his ungainly body swaying
+about as he stole across the heavy pile carpet. He went out of the room,
+closing the door softly behind him. He left Greve sunk in a reverie at
+the desk, gazing with unseeing eyes upon the dead face of the master of
+Harkings.
+
+That sprawling corpse, the startled realization of death stamped for
+ever in the wide, staring eyes, was indeed a subject for meditation.
+There, in the midst of all the evidences of Hartley Parrish's meteoric
+rise to affluence and power, Greve pondered for an instant on the
+strange pranks which Fate plays us poor mortals.
+
+Parrish had risen, as Greve and all the world knew, from the bottom rung
+of the ladder. He had had a bitter fight for existence, had made his
+money, as Greve had heard, with a blind and ruthless determination
+which spoke of the stern struggle of other days. And Robin, who, too,
+had had his own way to make in the world, knew how the memory of earlier
+struggles went to sweeten the flavour of ultimate success.
+
+Yet here was Hartley Parrish, with his vast financial undertakings, his
+soaring political ambitions, his social aims which, Robin realized
+bitterly, had more than a little to do with his project for marrying
+Mary Trevert, stricken down suddenly, without warning, in the very
+heyday of success.
+
+"Why should he have done it?" he whispered to himself, "why, my God,
+why?"
+
+But the mask-like face at his feet, as he bent to scan it once more,
+gave no answer to the riddle. Determination, ambition, was portrayed on
+the keen, eager face even in death.
+
+With a little hopeless gesture the young barrister glanced round the
+room. His eye fell upon the desk. He saw a neat array of letter-trays,
+costly silver and tortoise-shell writing appointments, a couple of heavy
+gold fountain pens, and an orderly collection of pencils. Lying flat on
+the great silver-edged blotter was a long brown envelope which had been
+opened. Propped up against the large crystal ink-well was a letter
+addressed simply "Miss Mary Trevert" in Hartley Parrish's big,
+vigorous, and sprawling handwriting.
+
+The letter to Mary Trevert, Robin did not touch. But he picked up the
+long brown envelope. On the back it bore a printed seal. The envelope
+contained a document and a letter. At the sight of it the young man
+started. It was Hartley Parrish's will. The letter was merely a covering
+note from Mr. Bardy, of the firm of Jerringham, Bardy and Company, a
+well-known firm of solicitors, dated the previous evening. Robin
+replaced letter and document in their envelope without reading them.
+
+"So that's it!" he murmured to himself. "Suicide? But why?"
+
+All the letter-trays save one were empty. In this was a little heap of
+papers and letters. Robin glanced through them. There were two or three
+prospectuses, a notice of a golf match, a couple of notes from West End
+tradesmen enclosing receipts and an acknowledgement from the bank. There
+was only one personal letter--a business communication from a Rotterdam
+firm. Robin glanced at the letter. It was typewritten on paper of a dark
+slatey-blue shade. It was headed, "ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & Co., GENERAL
+IMPORTERS, ROTTERDAM," and dealt with steel shipments.
+
+Robin dropped the letter back into the tray and turned to survey the
+room. It was in perfect order. Except for the still form lying on the
+floor and the broken pane of glass in the window, there was nothing to
+tell of the tragedy which had been enacted there that afternoon. There
+were no papers to hint at a crisis save the prosaic-looking envelope
+containing the will, and Parrish's note for Mary. The waste-paper
+basket, a large and business-like affair in white wicker, had been
+cleared.
+
+Robin walked across to the fireplace. The flames leapt eagerly about a
+great oak log which hissed fitfully on top of the glowing coals
+contained in the big iron fire-basket. The grate was bare and tidy. As
+the young man looked at the fire, a little whirl of blue smoke whisked
+out of the wide fireplace and eddied into the room. Robin sniffed. The
+room smelt smoky. Now he remembered he had noticed it as he came in.
+
+He stood an instant gazing thoughtfully at the blazing and leaping fire.
+He threw a quick glance at the window where the curtains tossed fitfully
+in the breeze coming through the broken pane. Suddenly he stepped
+quickly across the room and, lifting the reading-lamp from the table,
+bore it over to the window which he scrutinized narrowly by its light.
+Then he dropped on one knee beside the dead body, placing the lamp on
+the floor beside him.
+
+He lifted the dead man's left hand and narrowly examined the nails.
+Without touching the right hand which clasped the revolver, he studied
+its nails too. He rose and took the gold-mounted reading-glass from the
+desk and scrutinized the nails of both hands through the glass.
+
+Then he rose to his feet again and, having replaced lamp and
+reading-glass on the desk, stood there thoughtfully, his brown hands
+clasped before him. His eyes wandered from the desk to the window and
+from the window to the corpse. Then he noticed on the carpet between the
+dead body and the desk a little ball of slatey-blue paper. He bent down
+and picked it up. He had begun to unroll it when the library door was
+flung open. Robin thrust the scrap of paper in his pocket and turned to
+face the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+IN WHICH BUDE LOOKS AT ROBIN GREVE
+
+
+The library door opened. A large, square-built, florid man in the
+braided uniform of a police inspector stood on the threshold of the
+room. Beside him was Bude who, with an air of dignity and respectful
+mourning suitably blended, waved him into the room.
+
+"The--ahem!--body is in here, Mr. Humphries, sir!"
+
+Inspector Humphries stepped quickly into the room. A little countryfied
+in appearance and accent, he had the careful politeness, the measured
+restraint, and the shrewd eye of the typical police officer. In thirty
+years' service he had risen from village constable to be Inspector of
+county police. Slow to anger, rather stolid, and with an excellent
+heart, he had a vein of shrewd common sense not uncommonly found in that
+fast disappearing species, the English peasant.
+
+He nodded shortly to Greve, and with a tread that shook the room strode
+across to where Hartley Parrish was lying dead. In the meantime a
+harassed-looking man with a short grey beard, wearing a shabby frock
+coat, had slipped into the room behind the Inspector. He approached
+Greve.
+
+"Dr. Romain?" he queried, peering through his gold spectacles, "the
+butler said ..."
+
+"No, my name is Greve," answered Robin. "I am staying in the house. This
+is Dr. Romain."
+
+He motioned to the door. Dr. Romain came bustling into the room.
+
+"Glad to see you here so promptly, Inspector," he said. "A shocking
+business, very. Is this the doctor? I am Dr. Romain ..."
+
+Dr. Redstone bowed with alacrity.
+
+"A great privilege, sir," he said staidly. "I have followed your work...."
+
+But the other did not let him finish.
+
+"Shot through the heart ... instantaneous death ... severe haemorrhage ...
+the pistol is there ... in his hand. A man with everything he wanted
+in the world ... I can't understand it. 'Pon my soul, I can't!"
+
+The Inspector, who had been kneeling by the corpse, motioned with his
+head to the village doctor. Dr. Redstone went to him and began a cursory
+examination of the body. The Inspector rose.
+
+"I understand from the butler, gentlemen," he said, "that it was Miss
+Trevert, a lady staying in the house, who heard the shot fired. I should
+like to see her, please. And you, sir, are you a relation of ..."
+
+Greve, thus addressed, hastily replied.
+
+"Only a friend, Inspector. I am staying in the house. I am a barrister.
+Perhaps I may be able to assist you ..."
+
+Humphries shot a slow, shrewd glance at him from beneath his shaggy
+blond eyebrows.
+
+"Thank you, sir, much obliged, I'm sure. Now"--he thrust a hand into his
+tunic and produced a large leather-bound notebook--"do you know anything
+as would throw a light on this business?"
+
+Greve shook his head.
+
+"He seemed perfectly cheerful at lunch. He left the dining-room directly
+after he had taken his coffee."
+
+"Where did he go?"
+
+"He came here to work. He told us at lunch that he was going to shut
+himself up in the library for the whole afternoon as he had a lot of
+work to get through."
+
+The Inspector made a note or two in his book. Then he paused
+thoughtfully tapping the end of his pencil against his teeth.
+
+"It was Miss Trevert, you say, who found the body?"
+
+"No," Greve replied. "Her brother, Sir Horace Trevert. It was Miss
+Trevert who heard the shot fired."
+
+"The door was locked, I think?"
+
+"On the inside. But here is Sir Horace Trevert. He will tell you how he
+got through the window and discovered the body."
+
+Horace Trevert gave a brief account of his entry into the library. Again
+the Inspector scribbled in his notebook.
+
+"One or two more questions, gentlemen, please," he said, "and then I
+should wish to see Miss Trevert. Firstly, who saw Mr. Hartley Parrish
+last: and at what time?"
+
+Horace Trevert looked at Greve.
+
+"It would be when he left us after lunch, wouldn't it?" he said.
+
+"Certainly, certainly," Dr. Romain broke in. "He left us all together in
+the dining-room, you, Horace and Robin and Lady Margaret and Mary ...
+Miss Trevert and her mother, you know," he added by way of explanation
+to the Inspector.
+
+"And he went straight to the library?"
+
+"Straight away, Mr. Humphries, sir," broke in Bude. "Mr. Parrish crossed
+me in the hall and gave me particular instructions that he was not to be
+disturbed."
+
+"That was at what time?"
+
+"About two-thirty, sir."
+
+"Then you were the last person to see him before ..."
+
+"Why, no ... that is, unless ..."
+
+The butler hesitated, casting a quick glance round his audience.
+
+"What do you mean?" rapped out the Inspector, looking up from his
+notebook. "Did anybody else see Mr. Parrish in spite of his orders?"
+
+Bude was silent. He was looking at Greve.
+
+"Come on," said Humphries sternly. "You heard my question? What makes
+you think anybody else had access to Mr. Parrish before the shot was
+heard?"
+
+Bude made a little resigned gesture of the hands.
+
+"Well, sir, I thought ... I made sure that Mr. Greve ..."
+
+There was a moment's tense silence.
+
+"Well?" snapped Humphries.
+
+"I was going to say I made certain that Mr. Greve was going to Mr.
+Parrish in the library to tell him tea was ready. Mr. Greve passed me in
+the hall and went down the library corridor just after I had served the
+tea."
+
+All eyes turned to Robin.
+
+"It's perfectly true," he said. "I went out into the gardens for a
+mouthful of fresh air just before tea. I left the house by the side door
+off the corridor here. I didn't go to the library, though. It is an
+understood thing in this house that no one ever disturbs Mr. Parrish
+when he ..."
+
+He broke off sharply.
+
+"My God, Mary," he cried, "you mustn't come in here!"
+
+All turned round at his loud exclamation. Mary Trevert stood in the
+doorway. Dr. Romain darted forward.
+
+"My dear," he said soothingly, "you mustn't be here ..."
+
+Passively she let him lead her into the corridor. The Inspector
+continued his examination.
+
+"At what time did you come along this corridor, sir?" he asked Robin.
+
+"It was not long after the tea gong went," answered Robin, "about ten
+minutes past five, I should say ..."
+
+"And you heard nothing?"
+
+Robin shook his head.
+
+"Absolutely nothing," he replied. "The corridor was perfectly quiet. I
+stepped out into the grounds, went for a turn round the house, but it
+was raining, so I came in almost at once."
+
+"At what time was that?"
+
+"When I came in ... oh, about two or three minutes later, say about a
+quarter past five."
+
+Humphries turned to Horace Trevert.
+
+"What time was it when Miss Trevert heard the shot?"
+
+Horace puckered up his brow.
+
+"Well," he said, "I don't quite know. We were having tea. It wasn't much
+after five--I should say about a quarter past."
+
+"Then the shot that Miss Trevert heard would have been fired just about
+the time that you, sir," he turned to Robin, "were coming in from your
+stroll."
+
+"Somewhere about that time, I should say!" Robin answered rather
+thoughtfully.
+
+"Did you hear it?" queried the Inspector.
+
+"No," said Robin.
+
+"But surely you must have been at or near the side door at the time as
+you were coming in ..."
+
+"I came in by the front door," said Robin, "on the other side of the
+house ..."
+
+Very carefully the Inspector closed his notebook, thrust the pencil back
+in its place along the back, fastened the elastic about the book, and
+turned to Horace Trevert.
+
+"And now, sir, if I might speak to Miss Trevert alone for a minute ..."
+
+"I say, though," expostulated Horace, "my sister's awfully upset, you
+know. Is it absolutely necessary?"
+
+"Aye, sir, it is!" said the Inspector. "But there's no need for me to
+see her in here. Perhaps in some other room ..."
+
+"The drawing-room is next to this," the butler put in; "they'd be nice
+and quiet in there, Sir Horace."
+
+The Inspector acquiesced. Dr. Redstone drew him aside for a whispered
+colloquy.
+
+The Inspector came back to Robin and Horace.
+
+"The doctor would like to have the body taken upstairs to Mr. Parrish's
+room," he said. "He wishes to make a more detailed examination if Dr.
+Romain would help him. If one of you gentlemen could give orders about
+this ... I have two officers outside who would lend a hand. And this
+room must then be shut and locked. Sergeant Harris!" he called.
+
+"Sir!"
+
+A stout sergeant appeared at the library door.
+
+"As soon as the body has been removed, you will lock the room and bring
+the key to me. And you will return here and see that no one attempts to
+get into the room. Understand?"
+
+"Yessir!"
+
+"Inspector!"
+
+Robin Greve called Inspector Humphries as the latter was preparing to
+follow Bude to the drawing-room.
+
+"Mr. Parrish seems to have written a note for Miss Trevert," he said,
+pointing at the desk. "And in that envelope you will find Mr. Parrish's
+will. I discovered it there on the desk just before you arrived!"
+
+Again the Inspector shot one of his swift glances at the young man. He
+went over to the desk, shook the document and letter from their
+envelope, glanced at them, and replaced them.
+
+"I don't rightly know that this concerns me, gentlemen," he said slowly.
+"I think I'll just take charge of it. And I'll give Miss Trevert her
+letter."
+
+Taking the two envelopes, he tramped heavily out of the room.
+
+Then in a little while Bude and Jay and two bucolic-looking policemen
+came to the library to move the body of the master of Harkings. Robin
+stood by and watched the little procession pass slowly with silent feet
+across the soft pile carpet and out into the corridor. But his thoughts
+were not with Parrish. He was haunted by the look which Mary Trevert had
+given him as she had stood for an instant at the library door, a look of
+fear, of suspicion. And it made his heart ache.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE LETTER
+
+
+The great drawing-room of Harkings was ablaze with light. The cluster of
+lights in the heavy crystal chandelier and the green-shaded electric
+lamps in their gilt sconces on the plain white-panelled walls coldly lit
+up the formal, little-used room with its gilt furniture, painted piano,
+and huge marble fireplace.
+
+This glittering Louis Seize environment seemed altogether too much for
+the homely Inspector. Whilst waiting for Mary Trevert to come to him, he
+tried several attitudes in turn. The empty hearth frightened him away
+from the mantelpiece, the fragile appearance of a gilt settee decided
+him against risking his sixteen stone weight on its silken cushions, and
+the vastness of the room overawed him when he took up his position in
+the centre of the Aubusson carpet. Finally he selected an ornate chair,
+rather more solid-looking than the rest, which he drew up to a small
+table on the far side of the room. There he sat down, his large red
+hands spread out upon his knees in an attitude of singular
+embarrassment.
+
+But Mary Trevert set him quickly at his ease when presently she came to
+him. She was pale, but quite self-possessed. Indeed, the effort she had
+made to regain her self-control was so marked that it would have
+scarcely escaped the attention of the Inspector, even if he had not had
+a brief vision of her as she had stood for that instant at the library
+door, pale, distraught, and trembling. He was astonished to find her
+cool, collected, almost business-like in the way she sat down, motioned
+him to his seat, and expressed her readiness to tell him all she knew.
+
+The phrases he had been laboriously preparing--"This has been a bad
+shock for you, ma'am"; "You will forgive me, I'm sure, ma'am, for
+calling upon you at a moment such as this"--died away on his lips as
+Mary Trevert said:
+
+"Ask me any questions you wish, Inspector. I will tell you everything I
+can."
+
+"That's very good of you, ma'am, I'm sure," answered the Inspector,
+unstrapping his notebook, "and I'll try and not detain you long. Now,
+then, tell me what you know of this sad affair ..."
+
+Mary Trevert plucked an instant nervously at her little cambric
+handerchief in her lap. Then she said:
+
+"I went to the library from the billiard-room ..."
+
+"A moment," interposed the Inspector. "What time was that?"
+
+"A little after five. The tea gong had gone some time. I was going to
+the library to tell Mr. Parrish that tea was ready ..."
+
+Mr. Humphries made a note. He nodded to show he was listening.
+
+"I crossed the hall and went down the library corridor. I knocked on the
+library door. There was no reply. Then I heard a shot and a sort of
+thud."
+
+Despite her effort to remain calm, the girl's voice shook a little. She
+made a little helpless gesture of her hands. A diamond ring she was
+wearing on her finger caught the light and blazed for an instant.
+
+"Then I got frightened. I ran back along the corridor to the lounge
+where the others were and told them."
+
+"When you knocked at the door, you say there was no reply. I suppose,
+now, you tried the handle first."
+
+"Oh, yes ..."
+
+"Then Mr. Parrish would have heard the two sounds? The turning of the
+handle and then the knocking on the door? That's so, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so ..."
+
+"Yet you say there was no reply?"
+
+"No. None at all."
+
+The Inspector jotted a word or two in his notebook as it lay open flat
+upon the table.
+
+"The shot, then, was fired immediately after you had knocked? Not while
+you were knocking?"
+
+"No. I knocked and waited, expecting Mr. Parrish to answer. Instead of
+him answering, there came this shot ..."
+
+"I see. And after the shot was fired there was a crash?"
+
+"A sort of thud--like something heavy falling down."
+
+"And you heard no groan or cry?"
+
+The girl knit her brows for a moment.
+
+"I ... I ... was frightened by the shot. I ... I ... don't seem able to
+remember what happened afterwards. Let me think ... let me think ..."
+
+"There, there," said the Inspector paternally, "don't upset yourself
+like this. Just try and think what happened after you heard the shot
+fired ..."
+
+Mary Trevert shuddered, one slim white hand pressed against her cheek.
+
+"I do remember now," she said, "there _was_ a cry. It was more like a
+sharp exclamation ..."
+
+"And then you heard this crash?"
+
+"Yes ..."
+
+The girl had somewhat regained her self-possession. She dabbed her eyes
+with her handkerchief quickly as though ashamed of her weakness.
+
+"Now," said Humphries, clearing his throat, as though to indicate that
+the conversation had changed, "you and Lady Margaret Trevert knew Mr.
+Parrish pretty well, I believe, Miss Trevert. Have you any idea why he
+should have done this thing?"
+
+Mary Trevert shook her dark head rather wearily.
+
+"It is inconceivable to me ... to all of us," she answered.
+
+"Do you happen to know whether Mr. Parrish had any business worries?"
+
+"He always had a great deal of business on hand and he has had a great
+deal to do lately over some big deal."
+
+"What was it, do you know?"
+
+"He was raising fresh capital for Hornaway's--that is the big
+engineering firm he controls ..."
+
+"Do you know if he was pleased with the way things were shaping?"
+
+"Oh, yes. He told me last night that everything would be finished this
+week. He seemed quite satisfied."
+
+The Inspector paused to make a note.
+
+Then he thrust a hand into the side-pocket of his tunic and produced
+Hartley Parrish's letter.
+
+"This," he said, eyeing the girl as he handed her the letter, "may throw
+some light on the affair!"
+
+Open-eyed, a little surprised, she took the plain white envelope from
+his hand and gazed an instant without speaking, on the bold sprawling
+address--
+
+  _"Miss Mary Trevert."_
+
+"Open it, please," said the Inspector gently.
+
+The girl tore open the envelope. Humphries saw her eyes fill, watched
+the emotion grip her and shake her in her self-control so that she could
+not speak when, her reading done, she gave him back the letter.
+
+Without asking her permission, he took the sheet of fine, expensive
+paper with its neat engraved heading and postal directions, and read
+Hartley Parrish's last message.
+
+  My dear [it ran], I signed my will at Bardy's office
+  yesterday, and he sent it back to me to-day. Just
+  this line to let you know you are properly provided
+  for should anything happen to me. I wanted to fix
+  things so that you and Lady Margaret would not
+  have to worry any more. I just had to _write_.
+  I guess you understand why.
+
+H.
+
+There was a long and impressive silence while the Inspector
+deliberately read the note. Then he looked interrogatively at the girl.
+
+"We were engaged, Inspector," she said. "We were to have been married
+very soon."
+
+A deep flush crept slowly over Mr. Humphries's florid face and spread
+into the roots of his tawny fair hair.
+
+"But what does he mean by 'having to write'?" he asked.
+
+The girl replied hastily, her eyes on the ground.
+
+"Mr. Parrish was under the impression that ... that ... without his
+money I should not have cared for him. That is what he means ..."
+
+"You knew he had provided for you in his will?"
+
+"He told me several times that he intended to leave me everything. You
+see, he has no relatives!"
+
+"I see!" said the Inspector in a reflective voice.
+
+"Had he any enemies, do you know? Anybody who would drive him to a thing
+like this?"
+
+The girl shook her head vehemently.
+
+"No!"
+
+The monosyllable came out emphatically. Again the Inspector darted one
+of his quick, shrewd glances at the girl. She met his scrutiny with her
+habitual serene and candid gaze. The Inspector dropped his eyes and
+scribbled in his book.
+
+"Was his health good?"
+
+"He smoked far too much," the girl said, "and it made him rather nervy.
+But otherwise he never had a day's illness in his life."
+
+Humphries ran his eye over the notes he had made.
+
+"There is just one more question I should like to ask you, Miss
+Trevert," he said, "rather a personal question."
+
+Mary Trevert's hands twisted the cambric handkerchief into a little ball
+and slowly unwound it again. But her face remained quite calm.
+
+"About your engagement to Mr. Parrish ... when did it take place?"
+
+"Some days ago. It has not yet been announced."
+
+The Inspector coughed.
+
+"I was only wondering whether, perhaps, Mr. Parrish was not quite ...
+whether he was, maybe, a little disturbed in his mind about the
+engagement ..."
+
+The girl hesitated. Then she said firmly:
+
+"Mr. Parrish was perfectly happy about it. He was looking forward to our
+being married in the spring."
+
+Mr. Humphries shut his notebook with a snap and rose to his feet.
+
+"Thank you very much, ma'am," he said with a little formal bow. "If you
+will excuse me now. I have the doctor to see again and there's the
+Coroner to be warned ..."
+
+He bowed again and tramped towards the door with a tread that made the
+chandelier tinkle melodiously.
+
+The door closed behind him and his heavy footsteps died away along the
+corridor. Mary Trevert had risen to her feet calm and impassive. But
+when he had gone, her bosom began to heave and a spasm of pain shot
+across her face. Again the tears welled up in her eyes, brimmed over and
+stole down her cheeks.
+
+"If I only _knew!_" she sobbed, "if I only _knew!_"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+VOICES IN THE LIBRARY
+
+
+The swift tragedy of the winter afternoon had convulsed the
+well-organized repose of Hartley Parrish's household. Nowhere had his
+master grasp of detail been seen to better advantage than in the
+management of his country home. Overwhelmed with work though he
+constantly was, accustomed to carry his business and often part of his
+business staff to Harkings with him for the week-ends, there was never
+the least confusion about the house. The methodical calm of Harkings was
+that of a convent.
+
+Hartley Parrish was wont to say that he paid his butler and housekeeper
+well to save himself from worry. It was rather to ensure his orders
+being punctiliously and promptly carried out. His was the mind behind
+the method which ensured that meals were punctually served and trains at
+Stevenish Station never missed.
+
+But it was into a house in turmoil that Mary Trevert stepped when she
+left the drawing-room and passed along the corridor to go to her room.
+Doors slammed and there was the heavy thud of footsteps on the floor
+above. The glass door leading into the gardens was open, as Mary passed
+it, swinging in the gusts of cold rain. In the gardens without there was
+a confused murmur of voices and the flash of lanterns.
+
+In the hall a knot of servants were gossiping in frightened whispers
+with a couple of large, rather bovine country constables who,
+bareheaded, without their helmets, which they held under their arms,
+looked curiously undressed.
+
+The whispers died away as Mary crossed the hall. All eyes followed her
+with interest as she went. It was as though an echo of her talk with the
+Inspector had by some occult means already spread through the little
+household. Through the half-open green baize door leading to the
+servants' quarters some unseen person was bawling down the telephone in
+a heated controversy with the exchange about a long-distance call to
+London. And but an hour since, the girl reflected sadly, as she mounted
+the oaken staircase, the house had been wrapt in its wonted evening
+silence in response to that firm and dominating personality who had
+passed out in the gloom of the winter twilight.
+
+When, about six months before, Mary and her mother had begun to be
+regular visitors at Harkings, Hartley Parrish had insisted on giving
+Mary a boudoir to herself. This, in response to a chance remark of
+Mary's in admiration of a Chinese room she had seen at a friend's house,
+Parrish had had decorated in the Chinese style with black walls and
+black-and-gold lacquer furniture. The room had been transformed from a
+rather prosaic morning-room with old oak and chintz in the space of
+three days as a surprise for Mary. She remembered now how Parrish had
+left her to make the discovery of the change for herself. She loved
+colour and line, and the contrast between this quaint and delightful
+room with her rather shabby bedroom in her mother's small house in
+Brompton had made this surprise one of the most delightful she had ever
+experienced.
+
+She rang the bell and sat down listlessly in a charmingly lacquered
+Louis Seize armchair in front of the log-fire blazing brightly in the
+fireplace. She was conscious that a great disaster had overtaken her,
+but only dimly conscious. For more poignantly than this dull sense of
+tragedy she was aware of a great aching at her heart, and her thoughts,
+after hovering over the events of the afternoon, settled down upon her
+talk that afternoon ... already how far off it seemed ... with Robin
+Greve in the library.
+
+Robin had always been her hero. She could see him now in the glow of the
+fire as he had been when in the holidays he had come and snatched her
+away from a home already drab and difficult for a matin�e and an orgy of
+cream cakes at Gunter's afterwards. He was then a long, slim, handsome
+boy of irrepressible spirits and impulsive generosity which usually left
+him, after the first few days of his holidays, in a state of lamentable
+impecuniosity. All their lives, it seemed to her, they had been friends,
+but with no stronger feeling between them until Robin, having joined the
+Army on the outbreak of war, had come to say good-bye on being ordered
+to France.
+
+But by that time money troubles at home with which, as it seemed to her,
+she had been surrounded all her life, had grown so pressing that, apart
+from Lady Margaret's reiterated counsels, she herself had come to
+recognize that a suitable marriage was the only way out of their
+ever-increasing embarrassment.
+
+She and Robin, she recalled with a feeling of relief, had never
+discussed the matter. He, too, had understood and had sailed for France
+without seeking to take advantage of the circumstance.
+
+Outside in the black night a car throbbed. Footsteps crunched the gravel
+beneath her window. The sounds brought her back to the present with a
+sudden pang. She began to think of Hartley Parrish. All her life she
+had been so very poor that, until she had met this big, vigorous,
+intensely vital man, she had never known what a lavish command of money
+meant. Hartley Parrish did things in a big way. If he wanted a thing he
+bought it, as he had bought Bude, as he had bought a car he had seen
+standing outside a Pall Mall club and admired. He had rooted the owner
+out, bade him name his price, and had paid it, there and then, by
+cheque, and driven Mary off to a lawn tennis tournament at Queen's,
+hugely delighted by her bewilderment.
+
+She did not love him. She could never have learnt to love him. There was
+a gleeful zest in his enjoyment of his money, an ostentatious parade of
+his riches which repelled her. And there was a look in his face, those
+narrow eyes, that hard mouth, which revealed to her womanly intuition a
+ruthlessness which she guessed he kept for his business. But she liked
+him, especially his reverent and chivalrous devotion to her, and the
+thought that his dominating and vital personality was extinguished for
+ever made her conscious of a great void in her life.
+
+And now she was rich. Hartley Parrish's idea of "proper provision" for
+her, she knew, meant wealth for her beyond anything she had ever
+dreamed. The perpetual debasing struggle with poverty which she and her
+mother had carried on for years was a thing of the past. Money meant
+freedom, freedom to live ... and to love.
+
+She stretched her hands out to the blaze. Was she free to love? What had
+driven Hartley Parrish to suicide? Or who? She went over in her mind her
+interview with Robin Greve in the billiard-room. He had spoken of other
+women in connection with Hartley Parrish. Had he used that knowledge to
+threaten his rival? What had Robin done after he had left her that
+afternoon with his final taunt?
+
+She felt the blood rise to her cheeks as she thought of it. Mary Trevert
+had all the pride of her ancient race. The recollection of that taunt
+galled her. Her loyalty to the man from whom she had received nothing
+but chivalry, whose fortune was to banish a hideous nightmare from her
+life, rose up in arms. What had Robin done? She must know the truth ...
+
+A tap came at the door. Bude appeared.
+
+"I think you rang, Miss," he said in his quiet, deep voice. "I was with
+the Inspector, Miss, and I couldn't come before. Was there anything?..."
+
+The girl turned in her chair.
+
+"Come in and shut the door, Bude," she said. "I want to speak to you."
+
+The butler obeyed and came over to where she sat. He seemed ill at ease
+and rather apprehensive.
+
+"Bude," said the girl, "I want you to tell me why you were certain that
+Mr. Greve was going to Mr. Parrish in the library when he passed you in
+the hall this afternoon!"
+
+The butler smoothed his hands down his trousers in embarrassment.
+
+"I thought he ... Mr. Greve ... would be sure to be going to fetch Mr.
+Parrish in to tea, Miss ..." he replied, eyeing the girl anxiously.
+
+Mary Trevert continued gazing into the fire.
+
+"You know it is a rule in this house, Bude," she said, "that Mr. Parrish
+is never disturbed in the library ..."
+
+The butler changed his position uneasily.
+
+"Yes, Miss, but I thought ..."
+
+Slowly Mary Trevert turned and looked at the man.
+
+"Bude,"--her voice was very calm,--"I want you to tell me the truth. You
+know that Mr. Greve went in to Mr. Parrish ..."
+
+Bude looked uneasily about him.
+
+"Oh, Miss," he answered, almost in a whisper, "whatever are you saying?"
+
+"I want your answer, Bude," the girl said coldly.
+
+Bude did not speak. He rubbed his hands up and down his trousers in
+desperation.
+
+"I wish to know why Mr. Parrish did this thing, Bude. I mean to know.
+And I think you are keeping something back!"
+
+The challenge resounded clearly, firmly.
+
+"Miss Trevert, ma'am," the butler said in a low voice, "I wouldn't take
+it upon me to say anything as would get anybody in this house into
+trouble...."
+
+"You saw Mr. Greve go into Mr. Parrish?"
+
+The butler raised his hands in a quick gesture of denial.
+
+"God forbid, Miss!" he ejaculated in horror.
+
+"What, then, do you know that is likely to get anybody here into
+trouble?"
+
+The butler hesitated an instant. Then he spoke.
+
+"That Inspector Humphries has been asking me questions, Miss, in a
+nasty, suspicious sort o' way. I told him, what I told him already, that
+just after I'd done serving the tea Mr. Greve crossed the hall and went
+down the library corridor...."
+
+"You didn't tell him everything, Bude?"
+
+The butler took a step nearer.
+
+"Oh, Miss," he said, lowering his voice, "if you'll pardon my frankness,
+but I know as how you and Mr. Greve are old friends, and I wouldn't
+take it upon me to tell the police anything as might ..."
+
+Mary Trevert stood up and faced the man.
+
+"Bude," said she, "Mr. Parrish was your master, a kind and generous
+master as he was kind and generous to every one in this house. We must
+clear up the mystery of his ... of his death. Neither you nor I nor Mr.
+Greve nor anybody must stand in the way. Now, tell me the truth!"
+
+She dropped back into her chair. She gave the order imperiously like the
+mistress of the house. The butler, trained through life to receive
+orders, surrendered.
+
+"There's nothing much to tell, Miss. When Mr. Humphries asked me if I
+were the last person to see Mr. Parrish alive, I made sure that Mr.
+Greve would say he had been in to tell him tea was ready. But Mr. Greve,
+who heard the Inspector's question and my answer, said nothing. So I
+thought, maybe, he had his reasons and I did not feel exactly as how it
+was my place ..."
+
+Mary Trevert tapped with her foot impatiently.
+
+"But what grounds have you for saying that Mr. Greve went in to Mr.
+Parrish? Mr. Greve declared quite positively that he went out by the
+side door and did not go into the library at all."
+
+"But, Miss, I heard him speaking to Mr. Parrish ..."
+
+The girl turned round and the man saw fear in her wide-open eyes.
+
+The butler put his hand on the back of her chair and leaned forward.
+
+"Better leave things where they are, Miss," he said in a low voice. "Mr.
+Parrish, I dare say, had his reasons. He's gone to his last account now.
+What does it matter why he done it ..."
+
+The man was agitated, and in his emotion his carefully studied English
+was forsaking him.
+
+But the girl broke in incisively.
+
+"Please explain what you mean!" she commanded.
+
+"Why, Miss," replied the butler, "we know that Mr. Greve had no call to
+like Mr. Parrish seeing how things were between you and the master ..."
+
+"You mean the servants know that Mr. Parrish and I were engaged ..."
+
+Bude made a deprecatory gesture.
+
+"Know, Miss? I wouldn't go so far as to say 'know.' But there has been
+some talk in the servants' 'all, Miss. You know what young female
+servants are, Miss ..."
+
+"And you think that Mr. Greve went to Mr. Parrish to talk about ... me?"
+
+Mary Trevert's voice faltered a little. She looked eagerly at the
+other's fat, smooth face.
+
+"I presoomed as much, Miss, I must confess!"
+
+"But what did you hear Mr. Greve say?"
+
+"I heard nothing, Miss, except just only the sound of voices. After Mr.
+Greve had crossed me in the hall, I took the salver I was carrying into
+the butler's pantry. I stayed there a minute or two, and then I
+remembered I had not collected the letters from the box in the hall for
+the chauffeur to take to the post, the same as he does every evening. I
+went back to the hall, and just as I opened the green baize door I heard
+voices from the library ..."
+
+"Was it Mr. Greve's voice?"
+
+"I cannot say, Miss. It was just the sound of voices, rather loud-like.
+I caught the sound because the door leading from the hall to the library
+corridor was ajar. Mr. Greve must have forgotten to shut it."
+
+"What did you do?"
+
+"Well, Miss, I closed the corridor door ..."
+
+"Why did you do that?"
+
+"Well, Miss, seeing the voices sounded angry-like, I thought perhaps it
+would be better not to let any one else hear.... And Mr. Greve looked
+upset-like when he passed me. He gave me quite a turn, he did, when I
+saw his face under the hall lamp...."
+
+"Did you stay there ... and listen?"
+
+Bude drew himself up.
+
+"That is not my 'abit, Miss, not 'ere nor in hany of the 'ouses where I
+'ave seen service...."
+
+The butler broke off. The _h_'s were too much for him in his
+indignation.
+
+"I didn't mean to suggest anything underhand," the girl said quickly. "I
+mean, did you hear any more?"
+
+"No, Miss. I emptied the letter-box and took the letters to the
+servants' hall."
+
+"But," said Mary in a puzzled way, "why do you say it was Mr. Greve if
+you didn't hear his voice?"
+
+Bude spread out his hands in bewilderment.
+
+"Who else should it have been, Miss? Sir Horace and the doctor were in
+the lounge at tea. Jay and Robert were in the servants' hall. It could
+have been nobody else...."
+
+The girl's head sank slowly on her breast. She was silent. The butler
+shifted his position.
+
+"Was there anything more, Miss?" he asked after a little while.
+
+"There is nothing further, thank you, Bude," replied Mary. "About Mr.
+Greve, I am sure there must be some mistake. He cannot have understood
+Mr. Humphries's question. I'll ask him about it when I see him. I don't
+think I should say anything to the Inspector about it, at any rate, not
+until I've seen Mr. Greve. He'll probably speak to you about it
+himself...."
+
+Bude made a motion as though he were going to say something. Then
+apparently he thought better of it, for he made a little formal bow and
+in his usual slow and dignified manner made his exit from the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+ROBIN GOES TO MARY
+
+
+The house telephone, standing on the long and gracefully designed desk
+with its elaborately lacquered top, whirred. Mary started from her
+reverie in her chair by the fire. By the clock on the mantelshelf she
+saw that it was a quarter past eight. She remembered that once her
+mother had knocked at her door and bidden her come down to dinner. She
+had refused the invitation, declining to unlock the door.
+
+She lifted the receiver.
+
+"That you, Mary?"
+
+Robin was speaking.
+
+"May I come up and see you? Or would you rather be left alone?"
+
+His firm, pleasant voice greatly comforted her. Only then she realized
+how greatly she craved sympathy. But the recollection of Bude's story
+suddenly interposed itself like a barrier between them.
+
+"Yes, come up," she said, "I want to speak to you!"
+
+Her voice was dispirited,
+
+"I don't want to see him," she told herself as she replaced the
+receiver, got up, and unlocked the door, "but I must _know_!"
+
+A gentle tap came at the door. Robin came in quickly and crossed to
+where she stood by the fire.
+
+"My dear!" he said and put out his two hands.
+
+Her hands were behind her back, the fingers nervously intertwining. She
+kept them there and made no sign that she had observed his gesture.
+
+He looked at her in surprise.
+
+"This has been terrible for you, Mary," he said. "I wish to God I could
+make you realize how very, very much I feel for you in what you must be
+going through...."
+
+The phrase was formal and he brought it out irresolutely, chilled as he
+was by her reception. She was looking at him dispassionately, her
+forehead a little puckered, her eyes a trifle hard.
+
+"Won't you sit down," she said. "There is something I wanted to say!"
+
+He was looking at her now in a puzzled fashion. With rather feigned
+deliberation he chose a chair and sat down facing the fire. A lamp on
+the mantelpiece--the only light in the room--threw its rays on his face.
+His chin was set rather more squarely than his wont and his eyes were
+shining.
+
+"Mary,"--he leant forward towards her,--"please forget what I said this
+afternoon. It was beastly of me, but I hardly knew what I was
+doing...."
+
+She made a little gesture as if to wave his apology aside. Then, with
+her hands clasped in front of her, scanning the nails, she asked, almost
+casually:
+
+"What did you say to Hartley Parrish in the library this afternoon?"
+
+Robin stared at her in amazement.
+
+"But I was not in the library!" he answered.
+
+The girl dropped her hands sharply to her side.
+
+"Don't quibble with me, Robin," she said. "What did you say to Hartley
+Parrish after you left me this afternoon in the billiard-room?"
+
+He was still staring at her, but now there was a deep furrow between his
+brows. He was breathing rather hard.
+
+"I did not speak to Parrish at all after I left you."
+
+His answer was curt and incisive.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," Mary said, "that, after you left me and went
+down the corridor towards the library, you neither went in to Hartley
+nor spoke to him!"
+
+"I do!"
+
+"Then how do you account for the fact that, almost immediately after you
+had crossed Bude in the hall, he heard the sound of voices in the
+library?"
+
+Robin Greve stood up abruptly.
+
+"Bude, you say, makes this statement?"
+
+"Certainly!"
+
+"To whom, may I ask?"
+
+He spoke sharply and there was a challenging ring in his voice. It
+nettled the girl.
+
+"Only to me," she said quickly, and added: "You needn't think he has
+told the police!"
+
+Very deliberately Robin plucked his handkerchief from his sleeve, wiped
+his lips, and replaced it. The girl saw that his hands were trembling.
+
+"Why do you say that to me?" he demanded rather fiercely.
+
+Mary Trevert shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"This afternoon," she said, "when I told you of my engagement to
+Hartley, you began by abusing him to me, you rushed from the room making
+straight for the library where we all know that Hartley was working, and
+a few minutes after Bude hears voices raised in anger proceeding from
+there. The next thing we know is that Hartley has ..."
+
+She broke off and looked away.
+
+"Mary,"--Robin's voice was grave, and he had mastered all signs of
+irritation,--"you and I have known one another all our lives. You ought
+to know me well enough by now to understand that I don't tell you lies.
+When I say I haven't seen or spoken to Hartley Parrish since lunch this
+afternoon, that is the truth!"
+
+"How can it be the truth?" the girl insisted. "Horace and Dr. Romain
+were both in the lounge-hall, Bude was in the hall, the other
+menservants were in the servants' hall. You are the only man in the
+house not accounted for, and a minute before Bude heard these voices you
+go down the corridor towards the library. I can understand you wanting
+to keep it from the police, but why do you want to deceive _me_?"
+
+"Mary," answered the young man sternly, "I know you're upset, but that's
+no justification for persisting in this stupid charge against me. I tell
+you I never saw Parrish or spoke to him, either, between lunch and when
+I saw him lying dead in the library. I am not going to repeat the
+denial. But you may as well understand now that I am not in the habit of
+allowing my friends to doubt my word!"
+
+Mary flamed up at his tone.
+
+"If you are my friend," she cried, "why can't you trust me? Why should I
+find this out from Bude? Why should I be humiliated by hearing from the
+butler that he kept this evidence from the police in order to please me
+because you and I are friends? I am only trying to help you, to shield
+you ..."
+
+"That will do, Mary," he said. "No, you must hear what I have to say. If
+you insist on disbelieving me, you must. But I don't want you to help
+me. I don't want you to shield me. I shall make it my business to see
+that Bude's evidence is brought before the detective inspector from
+Scotland Yard who is being brought down here to handle the case ..."
+
+"A detective from Scotland Yard?" the girl repeated.
+
+"Yes, a detective. Humphries is puzzled by several points about this
+case and has asked for assistance from London. He is right. Neither the
+circumstances of Parrish's death nor the motive of his act are clear.
+Bude's evidence is sufficient proof that somebody did gain access to the
+library this afternoon. In that case...."
+
+"Yes...."
+
+"In that case," said Greve slowly, "it may not be suicide...."
+
+Mary put one hand suddenly to her face as women do when they are
+frightened. She shrank back.
+
+"You mean...."
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Murder!"
+
+The girl gave a little gasp. Then she stretched out her hand and
+touched his arm.
+
+"But, Robin," she spoke in quick gasps,--"you can't give the police this
+evidence of Bude's. Don't you see it incriminates _you?_ Don't you
+realize that every scrap of evidence points to you as being the man that
+visited Mr. Parrish in the library this afternoon? You're a lawyer,
+Robin. You understand these things. Don't you see what I mean?"
+
+He nodded curtly.
+
+"Perfectly," he replied coldly.
+
+"Bude will do what I tell him," the girl hurried on. "There is no need
+for the police to know...."
+
+"On the contrary," said the other imperturbably, "it is essential they
+should be told at once."
+
+The girl grasped the lapels of his coat in her two hands. Her breath
+came quickly and she trembled all over.
+
+"Are you mad, Robin?" she cried. "Who could have wanted to kill poor
+Hartley? Why should you put these ideas into the heads of the police?
+Bude may have imagined everything. Now, you'll be sensible, promise
+me...."
+
+Very gently he detached the two slim hands that held his coat. His mouth
+was set in a firm line.
+
+"We are going to sift this thing to the bottom, Mary," he said, "no
+matter what are the consequences. You owe it to Parrish and you owe it
+to me...."
+
+The telephone trilled suddenly.
+
+Robin picked up the receiver,
+
+"Yes, Bude," he said.
+
+There was a moment's silence in the room broken as the clock on the
+mantelpiece chimed nine times. Then Robin said into the telephone:
+
+"Right! Tell him I'll be down immediately!"
+
+He put down the receiver and turned to Mary.
+
+"A detective inspector has arrived from London. He is asking to see me.
+I must go downstairs."
+
+Mary, her elbows on the mantelpiece, was staring into the fire. At the
+sound of his voice she swung round quickly.
+
+"Robin!" she cried.
+
+But she spoke too late.
+
+Robin Greve had left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+MR. MANDERTON
+
+
+A quality which had gone far to lay the foundations of the name which
+Robin Greve was rapidly making at the bar was his strong intuitive
+sense. He had the rare ability of correctly 'sensing' an atmosphere, an
+uncanny _flair_ for driving instantly at the heart of a situation, which
+rendered him in the courts a dexterous advocate and a redoubtable
+opponent.
+
+Now, as he came into the lounge from the big oak staircase, he instantly
+realized that he had entered an unfriendly atmosphere. The concealed
+lights which were set all round the cornice of the room were turned on,
+flooding the pleasantly snug room with soft reflected light. A little
+group stood about the fire, Bude, Jay, Hartley Parrish's man, and a
+stranger. Jay was engaged in earnest conversation with the stranger. But
+at the sound of Greve's foot upon the staircase, the conversation ceased
+and a silence fell on the group.
+
+Greve's attention was immediately attracted towards the stranger, whom
+he surmised to be the detective from Scotland Yard. He was a big, burly
+man with a heavy dark moustache, straight and rather thin black hair,
+and coarse features. He looked a full-blooded, plethoric person with
+reddish-blue veins on his florid face, and a heavy jowl which
+over-feeding, Robin surmised, had made fullish. He was very neatly
+dressed in his black overcoat with velvet collar carefully brushed, his
+natty black tie with its pearl pin, and well-polished boots. His black
+bowler hat, with a pair of heavy dogskin gloves, neatly folded, lay on
+the table.
+
+"This Mr. Greve?"
+
+Bude and Jay fell back as Robin joined the group. The detective bent his
+gaze on the young barrister as he put his question, and Robin for the
+first time noticed his eyes. Keen and clear, they were ill-suited, he
+thought, to the rather gross features of the man. By right he should
+have had either the small and roguish or the pale and expressionless
+eyes which are habitually found in individuals of the sanguine
+temperament.
+
+The detective had a trick of dropping his eyes to his boots. When he
+raised them, the effect was to alter his whole expression. His eyes,
+well-open, keenly observant, in perpetual motion, lent an air of
+alertness, of shrewdness, to his heavy, florid countenance.
+
+"That is my name," said Robin, answering his question. "I am a
+barrister. I have met some of your people at the Yard, but I don't
+think...."
+
+"Detective-Inspector Manderton," interjected the big man, and paused as
+though to say, "Let that sink in!"
+
+Robin knew him well by repute. His qualities were those of the bull-dog,
+slow-moving, obstinately brave, and desperately tenacious. His was a
+name to conjure with among the criminal classes, and his career was
+starred with various sensational tussles with desperate criminals, for
+Detective-Inspector Manderton, when engaged on a case, invariably "took
+a hand himself," as he phrased it, when an arrest was to be made. A
+bullet-hole in his right thigh and an imperfectly knitted right
+collar-bone remained to remind him of this propensity of his. His motto,
+as he was fond of saying, was, "What I have I hold!"
+
+"Well, Mr. Greve," said the detective in a loud, hectoring voice,
+"perhaps you will be good enough to tell me what you know of this
+affair?"
+
+Robin flushed angrily at the man's manner. But there was no trace of
+resentment in his voice as he replied. He told Manderton what he had
+already told Humphries: how he had gone from the billiard-room across
+the hall and down the library corridor to the side-door into the
+grounds, intending to have a stroll before tea, but, finding that it
+was threatening rain, had returned to the house by the front door.
+
+The detective scanned the young man's face closely as he spoke. When
+Robin had finished, the other dropped his eyes and seemed to be
+examining the brilliant polish of his boots. He said nothing, and again
+Robin became aware of the atmosphere of hostility towards him which this
+man radiated.
+
+"It is dark at five o'clock?"
+
+Manderton turned to Bude.
+
+"Getting on that way, sir," the butler agreed.
+
+"Are you in the habit, sir,"--the detective turned to Robin now,--"of
+going out for walks in the dark?"
+
+Greve shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I had been sitting in the billiard-room. It was rather stuffy, so I
+thought I'd like some air before tea!"
+
+"You left Miss Trevert in the billiard-room?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+Greve put a hand to his throat and eased his collar.
+
+"The gong had sounded for tea," the detective went on imperturbably;
+"surely it would have been more natural for you to have brought Miss
+Trevert with you?"
+
+"I didn't wish to!"
+
+Mr. Manderton cleared his throat.
+
+"Ah!" he grunted. "You didn't wish to. I should like you to be frank
+with me, Mr. Greve, please. Was it not a fact that you and Miss Trevert
+had words?"
+
+He looked up sharply at him with contracted pupils.
+
+"You took a certain interest in this young lady?"
+
+"Mr. Manderton,"--Robin spoke with a certain _hauteur_,--"don't you
+think we might leave Miss Trevert's name out of this?"
+
+"Mr. Greve," replied the detective bluntly, "I don't!"
+
+Robin made a little gesture of resignation.
+
+"Before the servants...."
+
+"Come, come, sir," the detective broke in, "with all respect to the
+young lady and yourself, it was a matter of common knowledge in the
+house that she and you were ... well, old friends. It was remarked, Mr.
+Greve, I may remind you, that you looked very upset-like when you left
+the billiard-room to"--he paused perceptibly--"to go for your stroll in
+the dark."
+
+Robin glanced quickly round the group. Jay averted his eyes. As for
+Bude, he was the picture of embarrassment.
+
+"You seem to be singularly well posted in the gossip of the servants'
+hall, Mr. Manderton!" said Robin hotly.
+
+It was a foolish remark, and Robin regretted it the moment the words had
+left his mouth.
+
+"Well, yes," commented the detective slowly, "I am. I shall be well
+posted on the whole of this case, presently, I hope, sir!"
+
+His manner was perfectly respectful, but reserved almost to a tone of
+menace.
+
+"In that case," said Robin, "I'll tell you something you don't know, Mr.
+Manderton. Has Bude told you what he heard after I had passed him in the
+hall?"
+
+Interest flashed at once into the detective's face. He turned quickly to
+the butler. Robin felt he had scored.
+
+"What did you hear?" he said sharply.
+
+Bude looked round wildly. His large, fish-like mouth twitched, and he
+made a few feeble gestures with his hands.
+
+"It was only perhaps an idea of mine, sir," he stammered,--"just a sort
+of idea ... I dare say I was mistaken. My hearing ain't what it was,
+sir...."
+
+"Don't you try to hoodwink me," said Manderton, with sudden ferocity,
+knitting his brows and frowning at the unfortunate butler. "Come on and
+tell us what you heard. Mr. Greve knows and I mean to. Out with it!"
+
+Bude cast a reproachful glance at Robin. Then he said:
+
+"Well, sir, a minute or two after Mr. Greve had passed me, I went back
+to the hall and through the open door of the corridor leading to the
+library, I heard voices!"
+
+"Voices, eh? Did you recognize them?"
+
+"No, sir. It was just the sound of talking!"
+
+"You told Miss Trevert they were loud voices, Bude!" Robin interrupted.
+
+"Yes, sir," replied the butler, "they were loudish in a manner o'
+speaking, else I shouldn't have heard them!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+The detective rapped the question out sharply.
+
+"Why, because the library door was locked, sir!"
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"Because Miss Trevert and Dr. Romain both tried the handle and couldn't
+get in!"
+
+"Ah!" said Manderton, "you mean the door was locked _when the body was
+found!_ Now, as to these voices. Were they men's voices?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I should say so."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because they were deep-like!"
+
+"Was Mr. Hartley Parrish's voice one of them?"
+
+The butler spread out his hands.
+
+"That I couldn't say! I just heard the murmur-like, then shut the
+passage door quickly ..."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Well, sir, I thought ... I didn't want to listen...."
+
+"You thought one of the voices was Mr. Greve's, eh? Having a row with
+Mr. Parrish, eh? About the lady, isn't that right?"
+
+"Aren't you going rather too fast?" said Robin quietly.
+
+But the detective ignored him.
+
+"Come on and answer my question, my man," he said harshly. "Didn't you
+think it was Mr. Hartley Parrish and Mr. Greve here having a bit of a
+dust-up about the young lady being engaged to Mr. Parrish?"
+
+"Well, perhaps I did, but...."
+
+Like a flash the detective turned on Robin.
+
+"What do you know about this?" he demanded fiercely.
+
+"Nothing," said Greve. "As I have told you already, I did not see Mr.
+Parrish alive again after lunch, nor did I speak to him. What I would
+suggest to you now is that upon this evidence of Bude's depends the
+vitally important question of how Mr. Parrish met his death. Though he
+was found with a revolver in his hand, none of us in this house know of
+any good motive for his suicide. I put it to you that the man who can
+furnish us with this motive is the owner of the voice heard by Bude in
+conversation with Mr. Parrish, since obviously nobody other than Mr.
+Parrish and possibly this unknown person was in the library block at the
+time. And I would further remark, Mr. Manderton, that, until the bullet
+has been extracted, we do not know that Mr. Parrish killed
+_himself_..."
+
+"No," said the detective significantly, "we don't!"
+
+He had dropped his eyes to the ground now and was studying the pattern
+of the hearth-rug.
+
+"You say you heard no shot?" he suddenly asked Robin.
+
+"No!"
+
+"No one other than Miss Trevert, I gather, heard the shot?"
+
+"That is so!"
+
+Mr. Manderton consulted a slip of paper which he drew from his pocket.
+
+"Inspector Humphries," he said, "has drawn up a rough time-table of
+events leading up to Mr. Parrish's death, based on the evidence he has
+taken here this evening. You will tell me if it tallies."
+
+He read from the slip:
+
+  5 P.M. Bude sounds the gong for tea.
+
+  5.10   Mr. Greve passes Bude in the hall and goes
+         down the corridor leading to the library.
+         Mr. Greve states he went straight out by
+         the side door into the gardens.
+
+The detective looked up from his reading.
+
+"At 5.12, let us say, Bude comes back from the servants' quarters to the
+hall and hears voices from the library. He closes the passage door. Is
+that right?"
+
+Bude nodded.
+
+"It would be about two minutes after I saw Mr. Greve the first time," he
+agreed.
+
+"Very well!"
+
+The detective resumed his reading.
+
+  5.15 P.M. Miss Trevert goes to fetch Mr. Parrish
+            in to tea. She finds the library door
+            locked. Tries the handle and hears a
+            shot.
+
+5.18 (say) Miss Trevert comes into the lounge hall
+and gives the alarm.
+
+"Now, sir," said Mr. Manderton briskly, "I should like to ask you one or
+two further questions. Firstly, how long were you out on your stroll in
+the dark?"
+
+"I should think about two or three minutes."
+
+"That is to say, if you left the house by the side door at 5.10, you
+were back in the house by 5.13."
+
+"Yes, that would be right," Robin agreed.
+
+"And what did you do when you came in?"
+
+"I went up to my room to fetch a letter for the post."
+
+"Miss Trevert heard the shot fired at 5.15. Where were you at that
+time?"
+
+"In my bedroom, I should say. I was there for a few minutes as I had to
+write a cheque...."
+
+"And where is your bedroom?"
+
+"In the other wing above the billiard-room."
+
+"Hm! A pistol shot makes a great deal of noise. It seems strange that
+nobody in the house should have heard it."
+
+Here Bude interposed.
+
+"Mr. Parrish, sir, was very particular about noise. He had the library
+door and the door leading from the front hall to the library corridor
+specially felted so that he should not hear any sounds from the house
+when he was working in the library. That library wing was absolutely
+shut off from the rest of the house. It was always uncommon quiet...."
+
+But the detective, ignoring him, turned to Robin again.
+
+"I have been round the house," he said. "It does not seem to me it
+ought to take you three or even two minutes to walk from the side door
+to the front door. I should say it would be a matter of about thirty
+seconds!"
+
+"Excuse me," Robin answered quickly, "I didn't say I went straight from
+the side to the front door. I went through the gardens following the
+path that leads to the main drive. There I turned and came back to the
+front door."
+
+"And you assert that you heard nothing?"
+
+"I heard nothing."
+
+"Neither the 'loud voices' which the butler heard within two minutes of
+your leaving the house nor the shot fired five minutes later?"
+
+"I heard nothing."
+
+Mr. Manderton examined the toes of his boots carefully.
+
+"You heard nothing!" he repeated.
+
+The door opened suddenly and Dr. Romain appeared. With him was the
+village practitioner and Inspector Humphries.
+
+Dr. Redstone carried in his hand a little pad of cotton wool. He bore it
+over to the fireplace and unwrapping the lint showed a twisted fragment
+of lead lying on the bloodstained dressing.
+
+"Straight through the heart and lodged in the spine," he said. "Death
+was absolutely instantaneous."
+
+The detective picked up the bullet and scrutinized it closely.
+
+"Browning pistol ammunition," observed Humphries; "it fits the gun he
+used. There's half a dozen spare rounds in one of the drawers of his
+dressing-room upstairs."
+
+Mr. Manderton drew Inspector Humphries and Dr. Redstone into a corner of
+the room where they conversed in undertones. Bude and Jay had vanished.
+Dr. Romain turned to Robin Greve, who stood lost in a reverie, staring
+into the fire.
+
+"A clear case of suicide," he said. "The medical evidence is conclusive
+on that point. A most amazing affair. I can't conceive what drove him to
+it. Why _did_ he do it?"
+
+"Ah! why?" said Robin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+A SMOKING CHIMNEY
+
+
+A Red sun glowed dully through a thin mist when, on the following
+morning, Robin Greve emerged from the side door into the gardens of
+Harkings. It was a still, mild day. Moisture from the night's rain yet
+hung translucent on the black limbs of the bare trees and glistened like
+diamonds on the closely cropped turf of the lawn. In the air was a
+pleasant smell of damp earth.
+
+Robin paused an instant outside the door in the library corridor and
+inhaled the morning air greedily. He had spent a restless, fitful night.
+His sleep had been haunted by the riddle which, since the previous
+evening, had cast its shadow over the pleasant house. The mystery of
+Hartley Parrish's death obsessed him. If it was suicide,--and the
+doctors were both positive on the point--the motive eluded him utterly.
+
+His mind, trained to logical processes of reasoning by his practice of
+the law, baulked at the theory. When he thought of Hartley Parrish as he
+had seen him at luncheon on the day before, striding with his quick,
+vigorous step into the room, boyishly curious to know what the _chef_
+was giving them to eat, devouring his lunch with obvious animal
+enjoyment, brimful of energy, dominating the table with his forceful,
+eager personality....
+
+The sound of voices in the library broke in upon his thoughts. Robin
+raised his head and listened. Some one appeared to be talking in a loud
+voice ... no, not talking ... rather declaiming.
+
+Stepping quietly on the hard gravel path, Robin turned the corner of the
+house and came into view of the library window. The window-pane gaped,
+shattered where Horace Trevert had broken the glass on the previous
+evening when effecting an entrance into the room. Framed in the ragged
+outline of the splintered glass, bulked the large form of Sergeant
+Harris. He stood half turned from the window so as to catch the light on
+a copy of _The Times_ which he held in his red and freckled hands. He
+was reading aloud in stentorian tones from a leading article.
+
+"While this country," he bawled sonorously, "cannot ... in h'our
+belief ... hevade ... er ... responsibility ... er ... h'm disquieting
+sitwation ..."
+
+"Dear me!" thought Robin to himself, "what a very extraordinary morning
+pursuit for our police!"
+
+Suddenly the reading was interrupted.
+
+Robin heard the library door open. Then Manderton's voice cried:
+
+"That'll do, thank you, Sergeant!"
+
+"Did you 'ear me, sir?" asked the sergeant, who seemed very much
+relieved to be quit of his task.
+
+"Not a word!" was the reply. "But we'll try with the library door open!
+I'll go back to the hall and you start again!"
+
+A thoughtful look on his face, Robin turned quickly and, hurrying round
+the side of the house, entered by the front door. Standing by the door
+leading to the library corridor he found Manderton.
+
+The detective did not seem particularly glad to see him.
+
+"Good-morning, Inspector," said Robin affably, "you're early to work, I
+see. Having a little experiment, eh?"
+
+Manderton nodded without replying. Then the stentorian tones of Sergeant
+Harris proclaiming the views of "The Thunderer" on the Silesian
+situation rolled down the corridor and struck distinctly on the ears of
+the listeners in the hall.
+
+Presently Manderton closed the corridor door, shutting off the sound
+abruptly.
+
+"I think you said you could not hear the sergeant with the library door
+shut?" queried Robin suavely.
+
+"With the door shut--no," answered the detective shortly. "But with the
+door open ..."
+
+He broke off significantly and dropped his eyes to his boots.
+
+"Would it be troubling you," Robin struck in, "if we pushed your
+experiment one step farther?"
+
+Manderton lifted his eyes and looked at the young man, Robin met his
+gaze unflinchingly.
+
+"Well?"
+
+There was no invitation in his voice, but Robin affected to disregard
+the other's coldness.
+
+"Let the library door be shut," said Robin, "but leave the glass door
+leading into the garden open. Then give Sergeant Harris another trial at
+his reading...."
+
+The detective smiled rather condescendingly.
+
+"With the library door shut, you'll hear nothing," he remarked.
+
+"The library window is open," Robin retorted, "or rather it is as good
+as open, as one of the two big panes is smashed...."
+
+His voice vibrated with eagerness. The detective looked at him
+curiously.
+
+"Oh, try if you like," he said carelessly.
+
+Without waiting for his assent, Robin had already plucked open the
+corridor door and was halfway down the passage as the other replied. He
+was back again almost at once and, motioning the detective to silence,
+took his place at his side by the open door. Then the sound of the
+policeman's voice was heard from the corridor. It was muffled and
+indistinct so that the sense of his words could not be made out. But the
+voice was audible enough.
+
+Robin turned to the detective.
+
+"Bude could make out no words," he said.
+
+"But how do we know that the glass door was open?" queried the detective
+sceptically.
+
+"Because I left it open myself," Robin countered promptly, "when I went
+out for my walk before tea. Sir Horace told me that he found the door
+banging about in the wind when he went out to get into the library by
+the window."
+
+Mr. Manderton allowed his fat, serious face to expand very slowly into a
+broad, superior smile.
+
+"Doesn't it seem a little curious," he said, "that Mr. Hartley Parrish
+should choose to sit and work in the library on a gusty and dark winter
+evening with the window wide open? You'll allow, I think, that the
+window was not broken until after his death ..."
+
+Robin's nerves were ragged. The man's tone nettled him exceedingly. But
+he confined himself to making a little gesture of impatience.
+
+"No, no, sir," said Mr. Manderton, very decidedly, "I prefer to think
+that the library door was open, left open by the party who went in to
+speak to Mr. Parrish yesterday afternoon ... and who knows more about
+the gentleman's suicide than he would have people think ..."
+
+Robin boiled over fairly at this.
+
+"Good God, man!" he exclaimed, "do you accept this theory of suicide as
+blandly as all that? Have you examined the body? Don't you use your
+eyes? I tell you ... bah, what's the use? I'm not here to do your work
+for you!..."
+
+"No, sir," said the detective, quite unruffled, "you are not. And I
+think I'll continue to see about it myself!"
+
+With that he opened the corridor door and vanished down the passage.
+
+With great deliberation Robin selected a cigarette from his case, lit
+it, and walked out through the front door into the fresh air again. More
+than ever he felt the riddle of Hartley Parrish's death weighing upon
+his mind.
+
+His intuitive sense rebelled against the theory of suicide, despite the
+medical evidence, despite the revolver in the dead man's hand, despite
+the detective's assurance. And floating about in his brain, like the
+gossamer on the glistening bushes in the gardens, were broken threads of
+vague suspicions, of half-formed theories, leading from his hasty
+observations in the death chamber ...
+
+In itself the death of Hartley Parrish left him cold. Yes, he must admit
+that. But the look in Mary Trevert's eyes, as she had urged him to
+shield himself from the suspicion of having driven Hartley Parrish to
+his death, haunted him. Already dimly he was beginning to realize that
+Hartley Parrish in death might prove as insuperable a bar between him
+and Mary Trevert as ever he had been in life ...
+
+She was now a wealthy woman. Hartley Parrish's will had ensured that, he
+knew. But it was not the barrier of riches that Robin Greve feared. He
+had asked Mary Trevert to be his wife before there was any thought of
+her inheriting Parrish's fortune. He derived a little consolation from
+that reflection. At least he could not appear as a fortune-hunter in her
+eyes. But, until he could clear himself of the suspicion lurking in Mary
+Trevert's mind that he, Robin Greve, was in some way implicated in
+Hartley Parrish's death, the dead man, he felt, would always stand
+between them. And so ...
+
+Robin pitched the stump of his cigarette into a rose bush with a little
+gesture of resignation. Almost without knowing it, he had strolled into
+the rosery up a shallow flight of steps cut into the bank of green
+turf, which ran along the side of the house facing the library window to
+the corner of the house where it met the clipped box-hedge of the
+Pleasure Ground.
+
+The rosery was a pleasant rectangle framed in a sort of rustic bower
+which in the summer was covered with superb roses of every hue and
+variety. Gravel paths intersected rose-beds cut into all manner of
+fantastic shapes where stood the slender shoots of the young rose-trees
+each with its tag setting forth its kind, for Hartley Parrish had been
+an enthusiastic amateur in this direction.
+
+Robin turned round and faced the house. From his elevation he could look
+down into the library through the window with its shattered pane. He
+could see the gleaming polish on Hartley Parrish's big desk and the
+great arm-chair pushed back as Hartley Parrish had pushed it from him
+just before his death.
+
+The bare poles of the woodwork festooned with the black arms of the
+creeping roses, standing out dark in the fast falling winter evening,
+must, he reflected, have been the last view that Hartley Parrish had had
+before ...
+
+But then he broke off his meditations abruptly. His eye had fallen on a
+narrow white patch standing out on one of the uprights supporting the
+clambering roses.
+
+It was a stout young tree, the light brown bark left adhering to its
+surface. It was a long blaze on the bark on the side of the trunk which
+had caught his eye. Robin walked round the gravel path until he was
+within a foot of the pole to get a better view.
+
+The pole stood almost exactly opposite the library window. The scar in
+the bark was high up and diagonal and quite freshly made, for the wood
+was dead white and much splintered.
+
+The young man put a hand on the upright for support and leant forward,
+carefully refraining from putting his foot on the soft brown mould of
+the flower-bed which fringed the path between it and the rustic
+woodwork. Then he ran lightly down the steps until he stood with his
+back to the library window. From here he carefully surveyed the upright
+again, then, returning to the rosery, began a careful scrutiny of the
+gravel paths and the beds.
+
+Apparently his search gave little result, for he presently abandoned it
+and turned his attention to the wooden framework on the other side of
+the rectangular rose-garden. He plunged boldly in among the rose-bushes
+and examined each upright in turn. He spent about half an hour in this
+meticulous investigation, and then, his boots covered with mould, his
+rough shooting-coat glistening with moisture, he walked slowly down the
+steps and reentered the house.
+
+As he was wiping the mud off his boots on the great mat in the front
+hall, Bude came out of the lounge hall with a pile of dishes on a tray.
+
+"Bude," said Robin, "can you tell me if the fire in the library has been
+smoking of late?"
+
+"Well, sir," replied the butler, "we've always had trouble with that
+chimdy when the wind's in the southwest."
+
+"Has it been smoking lately?" The young man reiterated his question
+impatiently.
+
+The man looked up in surprise.
+
+"Well, sir, now you come to mention it, it has. As a matter o'fact, sir,
+the sweep was ordered for to-day ..."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Well, sir, Mr. Parrish had mentioned it to me ..."
+
+"When?"
+
+The question came out like a pistol shot.
+
+"Yesterday, sir," answered the butler blandly. "Just before luncheon, it
+was, sir. Mr. Parrish told me to have that chimdy seen to at once. And I
+telephoned for the sweep immediately after luncheon, sir ..."
+
+"Did Mr. Parrish say anything else, Bude?"
+
+Robin eagerly scanned the butler's fat, unimpressive countenance. Bude,
+his tray held out stiffly in front of him, contracted his bushy eyebrows
+in thought.
+
+"I don't know as he did, sir ..."
+
+"Think, man, think!" Robin urged.
+
+"Well, sir," said Bude, unmoved, "I believe, now I come to think of it,
+that Mr. Parrish did say something about the wind blowing his papers
+about ..."
+
+"That is to say, he had been working with the window open?"
+
+Robin Greve's question rang out sharply. It was an affirmation more than
+a question.
+
+"Yes, sir, leastways I suppose so, sir ..."
+
+"Which window?"
+
+"Why, the one Mr. Parrish always liked to have open in the warm weather,
+sir, ... the one opposite the desk. The other window was never opened,
+sir, because of the dictaphone as stands in front of it. The damp
+affects the mechanism ..."
+
+"Thank you, Bude," said the young man.
+
+With his accustomed majesty the butler wheeled to go. In the turn of his
+head as he moved there was a faint suggestion of a shake ... a shake of
+uncomprehending pity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+"... SPEED THE PARTING GUEST!"
+
+
+Dr. Romain was just finishing his breakfast as Robin Greve entered the
+dining-room, a cosy oak-panelled room with a bow window fitted with
+cushioned window-seats. Horace Trevert stood with his back to the fire.
+There was no sign of either Lady Margaret or of Mary. Silence seemed to
+fall on both the doctor and his companion as Robin came in. They wore
+that rather abashed look which people unconsciously assume when they
+break off a conversation on an unexpected entry.
+
+"Morning, Horace! Morning, Doctor!" said Robin, crossing to the
+sideboard. "Any sign of Lady Margaret or Mary yet?"
+
+The doctor had risen hastily to his feet.
+
+"I rather think Dr. Redstone is expecting me," he said rapidly; "I half
+promised to go over to Stevenish ... think I'll just run over. The
+walk'll do me good ..."
+
+He looked rather wildly about him, then fairly bolted from the room.
+
+Robin, the cover of the porridge dish in his hand, turned and stared at
+him.
+
+"Why, whatever's the matter with Romain?" he began.
+
+But Horace, who had not spoken a word, was himself halfway to the door.
+
+"Horace!" called out Robin sharply.
+
+The boy stopped with his back towards the other. But he did not turn
+round.
+
+Robin put the cover back on the porridge dish and crossed the room.
+
+"You all seem in the deuce of a hurry this morning ..." he said.
+
+Still the boy made no reply.
+
+"Why, Horace, what's the matter?"
+
+Robin put his hand on young Trevert's shoulder. Horace shook him roughly
+off.
+
+"I don't care to discuss it with you, Robin!" he said.
+
+Robin deliberately swung the boy round until he faced him.
+
+"My dear old thing," he expostulated. "What does it all mean? _What_
+won't you discuss with me?"
+
+Horace Trevert looked straight at the speaker. His upper lip was pouted
+and trembled a little.
+
+"What's the use of talking?" he said. "You know what I mean. Or would
+you like me to be plainer ..."
+
+Robin met his gaze unflinchingly.
+
+"I certainly would," he said, "if it's going to enlighten me as to why
+you should suddenly choose to behave like a lunatic ..."
+
+Horace Trevert leant back and thrust his hands into his pockets.
+
+"After what happened here yesterday," he said, speaking very clearly and
+deliberately, "I wonder you have the nerve to stay ..."
+
+"My dear Horace," said Robin quite impassively, "would you mind being a
+little more explicit? What precisely are you accusing me of? What have I
+done?"
+
+"Done?" exclaimed the young man heatedly. "Done? Good God! Don't you
+realize that you have dragged my sister into this wretched business?
+Don't you understand that her name will be bandied about before a lot of
+rotten yokels at the inquest?"
+
+Robin Greve's eyes glittered dangerously.
+
+"I confess," he said, with elaborate politeness, "I scarcely understand
+what it has to do with me that Hartley Parrish should apparently commit
+suicide within a few days of becoming engaged to your sister ..."
+
+"Ha!"
+
+Horace Trevert snorted indignantly.
+
+"You don't understand, don't you? We don't understand either. But, I
+must say, we thought _you_ did!"
+
+With that he turned to go. But Robin caught him by the arm.
+
+"Listen to me, Horace," he said. "I'm not going to quarrel with you in
+this house of death. But you're going to tell here and now what you
+meant by that remark. Do you understand? I'm going to know!"
+
+Horace Trevert shook himself free.
+
+"Certainly you shall know," he answered with _hauteur_, "but I must say
+I should have thought that, as a lawyer and so on, you would have
+guessed my meaning without my having to explain. What I mean is that,
+now that Hartley Parrish is dead, there is only one man who knows what
+drove him to his death. And that's yourself! Do you want it plainer than
+that?"
+
+Robin took a step back and looked at his friend. But he did not speak.
+
+"And now," the boy continued, "perhaps you will realize that your
+presence here is disagreeable to Mary ..."
+
+"Did Mary ask you to tell me this?" Robin broke in.
+
+His voice had lost its hardness. It was almost wistful. The change of
+tone was so marked that it struck Horace. He hesitated an instant.
+
+"Yes," he blurted out. "She doesn't want to see you again. I don't want
+to be offensive, Robin.."
+
+"Please don't apologize," said Greve. "I quite understand that this is
+your sister's house now and, of course, I shall leave at once. I'll ask
+Jay to pack my things if you could order the car ..."
+
+The boy moved towards the door. Before he reached it Robin called him
+back.
+
+"Horace," he said pleasantly, "before you go I want you to answer me a
+question. Think before you speak, because it's very important. When you
+got into the library yesterday evening through the window, you smashed
+the glass, didn't you?"
+
+Horace Trevert nodded.
+
+"Yes," he replied, looking hard at Robin.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"To get into the room, of course!"
+
+"Was the window bolted?"
+
+The boy stopped and thought.
+
+"No," he said slowly, "now I come to think of it, I don't believe it
+was. No, of course, it wasn't. I just put my arm through the broken pane
+and shoved the window up. But why do you ask?"
+
+"Oh, nothing," answered Robin nonchalantly. "I just was curious to know,
+that's all!"
+
+Horace stood and looked at him for an instant. Then he went out.
+
+A quarter of an hour later, Hartley Parrish's Rolls-Royce glided through
+the straggling main street of Stevenish. A chapel bell tinkled
+unmusically, and on the pavements, gleaming with wet, went a procession
+of neatly dressed townsfolk bound, prayer-book in hand, for their
+respective places of worship. A newsboy, sorting out the Sunday
+newspapers which had just come down by train from London, was the only
+figure visible on the little station platform. Robin bought a selection.
+
+"There's all about Mr. Parrish," said the boy, "'im as they found dead
+up at 'Arkings las' night. And the noospapers 'asn't 'arf been sendin'
+down to-day ... reporters and photographers ... you oughter seen the
+crowd as come by the mornin' train ..."
+
+"I wonder what they'll get out of Manderton," commented Robin rather
+grimly to himself as his train puffed leisurely, after the habit of
+Sunday trains, into the quiet little station.
+
+In the solitude of his first-class smoker he unfolded the newspapers.
+None had more than the brief fact that Hartley Parrish had been found
+dead with a pistol in his hand, but they made up for the briefness of
+their reports by long accounts of the dead man's "meteoric career."
+And, Robin noted with relief, hitherto Mary Trevert's name was out of
+the picture.
+
+He dropped the papers on to the seat, and, as the train steamed serenely
+through the Sunday calm of the country towards London's outer suburbs,
+he reviewed in his mind such facts as he had gleaned regarding the
+circumstances of his late host's death.
+
+He would, he told himself, accept for the time being as _facts_ what, he
+admitted to himself, so far only seemed to be such. Hartley Parrish,
+then, had been seated in his library at his desk with the door locked.
+The fire was smoking, and therefore he had opened the window. According
+to Horace Trevert, the window had not been bolted when he had entered
+the library, for, after smashing the pane in the assumption that the
+bolt was shot, he had had no difficulty in pushing up the window.
+Hartley Parrish had opened the window himself, for on the nail of the
+middle finger of his left hand Robin had seen, with the aid of the
+magnifying-glass, a tiny fragment of white paint.
+
+Who had closed it? He had no answer ready to _that_ question.
+
+Now, as to the circumstances of the shooting. The suicide theory invited
+one to believe that Hartley Parrish had got up from his desk, pushing
+back his chair, had gone round it until he stood between the desk and
+the window, and had there shot himself through the heart. Why should he
+have done this?
+
+Robin had no answer ready to this question either. He passed on again.
+Bude had heard loud voices a very few minutes before Mary had heard the
+shot. That morning's experiments had shown that Bude could have heard
+these sounds only by way of the open window of the library and the open
+doors of the garden and the library corridor. Additional proof, if Bude
+had heard aright, that the library window was open.
+
+Leaning back in his seat, his finger-tips pressed together, Robin Greve
+resolutely faced the situation to which his deductions were leading him.
+
+"The voice heard at the open window," he told himself, "was the voice of
+the man who murdered Parrish and who closed the window, that is, of
+course, if the murder theory proves more conclusive than that of
+suicide."
+
+This brought him back to his investigations in the rosery. The abrasure
+he had discovered on the timber upright was the mark of a bullet and a
+mark freshly made at that. Moreover, it had almost certainly been fired
+from the library window--from the window which Parrish had opened; the
+angle at which it had struck and marked the tree showed that almost
+conclusively.
+
+Yet there had been but one shot! If only he had been able to find that
+bullet in the rosery! Robin thought ruefully of his long hunt among the
+sopping rose-bushes.
+
+Yes, there had been only one shot. Mary Trevert had stated it
+definitely. Besides, the bullet that had killed Hartley Parrish had been
+fired from his own revolver and had been found in the body. Robin Greve
+felt the murder theory collapsing about him. But the suicide theory did
+not stand up, either. What possible, probable motive had Hartley Parrish
+for taking his own life?
+
+"He wasn't the man to do it!"
+
+The wheels of the train took up the rhythm of the phrase and dinned it
+into his ears.
+
+"He wasn't the man to do it!"
+
+The riddle seemed more baffling than ever.
+
+Robin thrust one hand into his right-hand pocket to get his pipe, his
+other hand into his left-hand pocket to find his pouch. His left hand
+came into contact with a little ball of paper.
+
+He drew it out. It was the little ball of slatey-blue paper he had found
+on the floor of the library beside Hartley Parrish's dead body.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+MR. MANDERTON IS NONPLUSSED
+
+
+Horace Trevert walked abruptly into Mary's Chinese boudoir. Lady
+Margaret and the girl were standing by the fire.
+
+"Well," said Horace, dropping into a chair, "he's gone!"
+
+"Who?" said Lady Margaret.
+
+"Robin," answered the boy, "and I must say he took it very well ..."
+
+"You don't mean to tell me, Horace," said his mother, "that you have
+actually sent Robin Greve away ...?"
+
+Mary Trevert put her hand on her mother's arm.
+
+"I wished it, Mother. I asked Horace to send him away ..."
+
+"But, my dear," protested Lady Margaret.
+
+Mary interrupted her impatiently.
+
+"Robin Greve was impossible here. I had to ask him to go. I suppose he
+can come back if ... if they want him for the inquest ..."
+
+Lady Margaret was looking at her daughter in a puzzled way. She was a
+woman of the world and had brought her daughter up to be a woman of the
+world. She knew that Mary was not impulsive by nature. She knew that
+there was a wealth of good sense behind those steady eyes.
+
+In response to a look from his mother, Horace got up and left the room.
+
+"Mary, dear," said the older woman, "don't you think you are making a
+mistake?"
+
+The girl turned away, one slim shoe tapping restlessly against the brass
+rail of the fireplace.
+
+"My dear," her mother went on, "remember I have known Robin Greve all
+his life. His father, the Admiral, was a very old friend of mine. He was
+the very personification of honour. Robin is very fond of you ... no, he
+has told me nothing, but I _know_. Don't you think it is rather hard on
+an old friend to turn him away just when you most want him?"
+
+There was a heightened colour in the girl's face as she turned and
+looked her mother in the face.
+
+"Robin has not behaved like a friend, Mother," she answered. "He knows
+more than he pretends about ... about this. And he lets me find out
+things from the servants when he ought to have told me himself. If he is
+suspected of having said something to Hartley which made him do this
+dreadful thing, he has only himself to thank. I _did_ try to shield
+him--before I knew. But I'm not going to do so any more. If he stays I
+shall have the police suspecting me all the time. And I owe something
+to Hartley ..."
+
+Her mother sighed a soft little sigh. She said nothing. She was a very
+wise woman.
+
+"Robin left me to go to the library ... I am sure of that ..." Mary went
+on breathlessly.
+
+"Why?" her mother asked.
+
+The girl hesitated.
+
+Then she said slowly:
+
+"You and I have always been good pals, Mother, so I may as well tell
+you. Robin had just asked me to marry him. So I told him I was engaged
+to Hartley. He went on in the most awful way, and said that I was
+selling myself and that I would not be the first girl that Hartley had
+kept ..."
+
+She broke off and raised her hands to her face. Then she put her elbows
+on the mantel-shelf and burst into tears.
+
+"Oh, it was hateful," she sobbed.
+
+Her mother put her arm round her soothingly.
+
+"Well, my dear," she said, "Robin was always fond of you, and I dare say
+it was a shock to him. When men feel like that about a girl they
+generally say things they don't mean ..."
+
+Mary Trevert straightened herself up and dropped her hands to her side.
+She faced her mother, the tear-drops glistening on her long lashes.
+
+"He meant it, every word of it. And he was perfectly right. I _was_
+selling myself, and you know I was, Mother. Do you think we can go on
+for ever like this, living on credit and dodging tradesmen? I meant to
+marry Hartley and stick to him. But I never thought ... I never
+guessed ... that Robin ..."
+
+"I know, my dear," her mother interposed, "I know. Perhaps it doesn't
+sound a very proper thing to say in the circumstances, but now that poor
+Hartley is gone, there is no reason whatsoever why you and Robin ..."
+
+The Treverts were a hot-tempered race. Lady Margaret's unfinished
+sentence seemed to infuriate the girl.
+
+"Do you think I'd marry Robin Greve as long as I thought he knew the
+mystery of Hartley's death!" she cried passionately. "I was willing to
+give up my self-respect once to save us from ruin, but I won't do it
+again. I'm not surprised to find you thinking I am ready to marry Robin
+and live happy ever after on poor Hartley's money. But I've not sunk so
+low as that! If you ever mention this to me again, Mother, I promise you
+I'll go away and never come back!"
+
+"My dear child," temporized Lady Margaret, eyebrows raised in protest
+at this outburst, "of course, it shall be as you wish. I only
+thought ..."
+
+But Mary Trevert was not listening. She leant on the mantel-shelf, her
+dark head in her hands, and she murmured:
+
+"The tragedy of it! My God, the tragedy of it!"
+
+Lady Margaret twisted the rings on her long white fingers.
+
+"The tragedy of it, my dear," she said, "is that you have sent away the
+man you love at a time when you will never need him so badly again ..."
+
+There was a discreet tapping at the door.
+
+"Come in!" said Lady Margaret.
+
+Bude appeared.
+
+"Mr. Manderton, the detective, my lady, was wishing to know whether he
+might see Miss Trevert ..."
+
+"Yes. Ask him to come up here," commanded Lady Margaret.
+
+"He is without--in the corridor, my lady!"
+
+He stepped back and in a moment Mr. Manderton stepped into the room,
+big, burly, and determined.
+
+He made a little stiff bow to the two ladies and halted irresolute near
+the door.
+
+"You wished to see my daughter, Mr. Manderton," said Lady Margaret.
+
+The detective bowed again.
+
+"And you, too, my lady," he said. "Allow me!"
+
+He closed the door, then crossed to the fireplace.
+
+"After I had seen you and Miss Trevert last night, my lady," he began,
+"I had a talk with Mr. Jeekes, Mr. Parrish's principal secretary, who
+came down by car from London as soon as he heard the news. My lady, I
+think this is a fairly simple case!"
+
+He paused and scanned the carpet.
+
+"Mr. Jeekes tells me, my lady," he went on presently, "that Mrs Parrish
+had been suffering from neurasthenia and a weak heart brought on by too
+much smoking. It appears that he had consulted, within the last two
+months, two leading specialists of Harley Street about his health. One
+of these gentlemen, Sir Winterton Maire, ordered him to knock off all
+work and all smoking for at least three months. He will give evidence to
+this effect at the inquest. Mr. Parrish disregarded these orders as he
+was wishful to put through his scheme for Hornaway's before taking a
+rest. Mr. Jeekes can prove that. In these circumstances, my lady...."
+
+"Well?"
+
+Lady Margaret, in her black cr�pe de chine dress, setting off the
+silvery whiteness of her hair, was a calm, unemotional figure as she sat
+in her lacquer chair.
+
+"Well?" she asked again.
+
+"Well," said the detective, "the verdict will be one of 'Suicide whilst
+of unsound mind,' and in my opinion the medical evidence will be
+sufficient to bring that in. There will not be occasion, I fancy, my
+lady, to probe any farther into the motives of Mr. Parrish's action...."
+
+"And are you personally satisfied"--Mary's voice broke in clear and
+unimpassioned--"are you personally satisfied, Mr. Manderton, that Mr.
+Parrish shot himself?"
+
+The detective cast an appealing glance at the tips of his well-burnished
+boots.
+
+"Yes, Miss, I think I may say I am...."
+
+"And what about the evidence of Bude, who said he heard voices in the
+library...."
+
+Mr. Manderton gave his shoulders the merest suspicion of a shrug, raised
+his hands, and dropped them to his sides.
+
+"I had hoped, my lady," he said, throwing a glance at Lady Margaret,
+"and you, Miss, that I had made it clear that in the circumstances we
+need not pursue that matter any further...."
+
+Lady Margaret rose. Her dominating personality seemed to fill the room.
+
+"We are extremely obliged to you, Mr. Manderton," she said, "for the
+able and discreet way in which you have handled this case. I sometimes
+meet the Chief Commissioner at dinner. I shall write to Sir Maurice and
+tell him my opinion."
+
+Mr. Manderton reddened a little.
+
+"Your ladyship is too good," he said.
+
+Lady Margaret bowed to signify that the interview was at an end. But
+Mary Trevert left her side and walked to the door.
+
+"Will you come downstairs with me, Mr. Manderton," she said. "I should
+like to speak to you alone for a minute!"
+
+She led the way downstairs through the hall and out into the drive. A
+pale sun shone down from a grey and rainy sky, and the damp breeze
+blowing from the sodden trees played among the ringlets of her dark
+hair.
+
+"We will walk down the drive," she said to the detective, who, rather
+astonished, had followed her. "We can talk freely out of doors."
+
+They took a dozen steps in silence. Then she said:
+
+"Who was it speaking to Mr. Parrish in the library?"
+
+"Undoubtedly Mr. Greve," replied the man without hesitation.
+
+"Why undoubtedly?" asked the girl.
+
+"It could have been no one else. We know that he left you hot to get at
+Mr. Parrish and have words with him. Bude heard them talking with voices
+raised aloud...."
+
+"But if the door were locked?"
+
+"Mr. Parrish may have opened it and locked it again, Mr. Greve getting
+out by the window. But there are no traces of that ... one would look to
+find marks on the paint on the inside. Besides, a little test we made
+this morning suggests that Mr. Greve spoke to Mr. Parrish through the
+window...."
+
+"Was the window open?"
+
+"Yes, Miss, it probably was. The fire had been smoking in the library.
+Mr. Parrish had complained to Bude about it. Besides, we have found Mr.
+Parrish's finger-prints on the inside of the window-frame. Outside we
+found other finger-prints ... Sir Horace's. Sir Horace was good enough
+to allow his to be taken."
+
+The girl looked at the detective quickly.
+
+"Were there any other finger-prints except Horace's on the outside?" she
+asked.
+
+Mr. Manderton shook his head.
+
+"No, Miss," he answered.
+
+They had reached the lodge-gates at the beginning of the drive and
+turned to retrace their steps to the house.
+
+"Then we shall never know exactly why Mr. Parrish did this thing?"
+hazarded Mary.
+
+Mr. Manderton darted her a surreptitious glance.
+
+"We shall see about that," he said.
+
+There was menace in his voice.
+
+Mary Trevert stopped. She put her hand on the detective's arm.
+
+"Mr. Manderton," she said, "if you are satisfied, then, believe me, I
+am!"
+
+The detective bowed.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he said,--and he spoke perfectly respectfully though his
+words were blunt,--"I can well believe that!"
+
+The girl looked up quickly. She scanned his face rather apprehensively.
+
+"What do you mean?" she asked, "I don't understand...."
+
+"I mean," was the detective's answer, given in his quiet, level voice,
+"that when you attempted to mislead Inspector Humphries you did nobody
+any good!"
+
+The girl bent her head without replying, and in silence they regained
+the house. At the house door they parted, Mary going indoors while the
+detective remained standing on the drive. Very deliberately he produced
+a short briar pipe, cut a stub of dark plug tobacco from a flat piece he
+carried in his pocket, crammed the tobacco into his pipe, and lit it.
+Reflectively he blew a thin spiral of smoke into the still air.
+
+"_He_ told me about that fat butler's evidence," he said to himself;
+"_he_ put me wise about that window being open; _he_ gave me the office
+about the paint on the finger-nails of Mr. H.P."
+
+He ticked off each point on his fingers with the stem of his pipe.
+
+"Why?" said Mr. Manderton aloud, addressing a laurel-bush.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+JEEKES
+
+
+Mr. Albert Edward Jeekes, Hartley Parrish's principal private secretary,
+lunched with Lady Margaret, Mary and Horace. Dr. Romain seemed not to
+have got over his embarrassment of the morning, for he did not put in an
+appearance.
+
+Mr. Jeekes was an old young man who supported bravely the weight of his
+Christian names, a reminder of his mother having occupied some small
+post in the household of Queen Victoria the Good. He might have been any
+age between 35 and 50 with his thin sandy hair, his myopic gaze, and his
+habitual expression of worried perplexity.
+
+He was a shorthand-writer and typist of incredible dexterity and speed
+which, combined with an unquenchable energy, had recommended him to
+Hartley Parrish. Accordingly, in consideration of a salary which he
+would have been the first to describe as "princely," he had during the
+past four years devoted some fifteen hours a day to the service of Mr.
+Hartley Parrish.
+
+He was unmarried. When not on duty, either at St. James's Square,
+Harkings, or Hartley Parrish's palatial offices in Broad Street, he was
+to be found at one of those immense and gloomy clubs of indiscriminate
+membership which are dotted about the parish of St. James's, S.W., and
+to which Mr. Jeekes was in the habit of referring in Early-Victorian
+accents of respect.
+
+"When I heard the news at the club, Miss Trevert," said Jeekes, "you
+could have knocked me down with a feather. Mr. Parrish, as all of us
+knew, worked himself a great deal too hard, sometimes not knocking off
+for his tea, even, and wore his nerves all to pieces. But I never
+dreamed it would come to this. Ah! he's a great loss, and what we shall
+do without him I don't know. There was a piece in one of the papers
+about him to-day--perhaps you saw it?--it called him 'one of the
+captains of industry of modern England.'"
+
+"You were always a great help to him, Mr. Jeekes," said Mary, who was
+touched by the little man's hero-worship; "I am sure you realized that
+he appreciated you."
+
+"Well," replied Mr. Jeekes, rubbing the palms of his hands together, "he
+did a great deal for _me_. Took me out of a City office where I was
+getting two pound five a week. That's what he did. It was a shipping
+firm. I tell you this because it has a bearing, Miss Trevert, on what
+is to follow. Why did he pick me? I'll tell you.
+
+"He was passing through the front office with one of our principals when
+he asked him, just casually, what Union Pacific stood at. The boss
+didn't know.
+
+"'A hundred and eighty-seven London parity,' says I. He turned round and
+looked at me. 'How do you know that?' says he, rather surprised, this
+being in a shipping office, you understand.
+
+"'I take an interest in the markets,' I replied. 'Do you?' he says.
+'Then you might do for me,' and tells me to come and see him."
+
+"I went. He made me an offer. When I heard the figure ... my word!"
+
+Mr. Jeekes paused. Then added sadly:
+
+"And I had meant to work for him to my dying day!"
+
+They were in the billiard-room seated on the selfsame settee, Mary
+reflected, on which she and Robin had sat--how long ago it seemed,
+though only yesterday! Mary had carried the secretary off after luncheon
+in order to unfold to him a plan which she had been turning over in her
+mind ever since her conversation with the detective.
+
+"And what are you going to do now, Mr. Jeekes?" she asked.
+
+The little man pursed up his lips.
+
+"Well," he said, "I'll have to get something else, I expect. I'm not
+expecting to find anything so good as I had with Mr. Parrish. And things
+are pretty crowded in the City, Miss Trevert, what with all the boys
+back from the war, God bless 'em, and glad we are to see 'em, I'm sure.
+I hope you'll realize, Miss Trevert, that anything I can do to help to
+put Mr. Parrish's affairs straight...."
+
+"I was just about to say," Mary broke in, "that I hope you will not
+contemplate any change, Mr. Jeekes. You know more about Mr. Parrish's
+affairs than anybody else, and I shall be very glad if you will stay on
+and help me. You know I have been left sole executrix...."
+
+"Miss Trevert,"--the little man stammered in his embarrassment,--"this
+is handsome of you. I surely thought you would have wished to make your
+own arrangements, appoint your own secretaries...."
+
+Mr. Jeekes broke off and looked at her, blinking hard.
+
+"Not at all," said Mary. "Everything shall be as it was. I am sure that
+Mr. Bardy will approve. Besides, Mr. Jeekes, I want your assistance in
+something else...."
+
+"Anything in my power...." began Jeekes.
+
+"Listen," said Mary.
+
+She was all her old self-composed self now, a charming figure in her
+plain blue serge suit with a white silken shirt and black tie--the best
+approach to mourning her wardrobe could afford. Already the short winter
+afternoon was drawing in. Mysterious shadows lurked in the corners of
+the long and narrow room.
+
+"Listen," said Mary, leaning forward. "I want to know why Mr. Parrish
+killed himself. I mean to know. And I want you, Mr. Jeekes, to help me
+to find out."
+
+Something stirred ever so faintly in the remote recesses of the
+billiard-room. A loose board or something creaked softly and was silent.
+
+"What was that?" the girl called out sharply. "Who's there?"
+
+Mr. Jeekes got up and walked over to the door. It was ajar. He closed
+it.
+
+"Just a board creaking," he said as he resumed his seat.
+
+"I want your aid in finding out the motive for this terrible
+deed,"--Mary Trevert was speaking again,--"I can't understand.... I
+don't see clear...."
+
+"Miss Trevert," said Mr. Jeekes, clearing his throat fussily, "I fear we
+must look for the motive in the state of poor Mr. Parrish's nerves. An
+uncommonly high-strung man he always was, and he smoked those long
+black strong cigars of his from morning till night. Sir Winterton Maire
+told him flatly--Mr. Parrish, I recollect, repeated his very words to me
+after Sir Winterton had examined him--that, if he did not take a
+complete rest and give up smoking, he would not be answerable for the
+consequences. Therefore, Miss Trevert...."
+
+"Mr. Jeekes," answered the girl, "I knew Mr. Parrish pretty well. A
+woman, you know, gets to the heart of a man's character very often
+quicker than his daily associates in business. And I know that Mr.
+Parrish was the last man in the world to have done a thing like that. He
+was so ... so undaunted. He made nothing of difficulties. He relied
+wholly on himself. That was the secret of his success. For him to have
+killed himself like this makes me feel convinced that there was some
+hidden reason, far stronger, far more terrible, than any question of
+nerves...."
+
+Leaning forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, Mary Trevert
+raised her dark eyes to the little secretary's face.
+
+"Many men have a secret in their lives," she said in a low voice. "Do
+you know of anything in Mr. Parrish's life which an enemy might have
+made use of to drive him to his death?"
+
+Her manner was so intense that Mr. Jeekes quite lost his
+self-composure. He clutched at his _pince-nez_ and readjusted them upon
+his nose to cover his embarrassment. The secretary was not used to
+gazing at beautiful women whose expressive features showed as clearly as
+this the play of the emotions.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he said presently, "I know of no such secret. But then
+what do I--what does any one--know of Mr. Parrish's former life?"
+
+"We might make enquiries in South Africa?" ventured the girl.
+
+"I doubt if we should learn anything much through that," said the
+secretary. "Of course, Mr. Parrish had great responsibilities and
+responsibility means worry...."
+
+A silence fell on them both. From somewhere in the dark shadows above
+the fire glowing red through the falling twilight a clock chimed once.
+There was a faint rustling from the neighborhood of the door. Mr. Jeekes
+started violently. A coal dropped noisily into the fireplace.
+
+"There was something else," said Mary, ignoring the interruption, and
+paused. She did not look up when she spoke again.
+
+"There is often a woman in cases like this," she began reluctantly.
+
+Mr. Jeekes looked extremely uncomfortable.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he said, "I beg you will not press me on that
+score...."
+
+"Why?" asked the girl bluntly.
+
+"Because ... because"--Mr. Jeekes stumbled sadly over his
+words--"because, dear me, there are some things which really I couldn't
+possibly discuss ... if you'll excuse me...."
+
+"Oh, but you can discuss everything, Mr. Jeekes," replied Mary Trevert
+composedly. "I am not a child, you know. I am perfectly well aware that
+there's a woman somewhere in the life of every man, very often two or
+three. I haven't got any illusions on the subject, I assure you. I never
+supposed for a moment that I was the first woman in Mr. Parrish's
+life...."
+
+This candour seemed to administer a knock-out blow to the little
+secretary's Victorian mind. He was speechless. He took off his
+_pince-nez_, blindly polished them with his pocket-handkerchief and
+replaced them upon his nose. His fingers trembled violently.
+
+"I have no wish to appear vulgarly curious," the girl went on,--Mr.
+Jeekes made a quick gesture of dissent,--"but I am anxious to know
+whether Mr. Parrish was being blackmailed ... or anything like that...."
+
+"Oh, no, Miss Trevert, I do assure you," the little man expostulated in
+hasty denial, "nothing like that, I am convinced. At least, that is to
+say ..."
+
+He rose to his feet, clutching the little _attach�_ case which he
+invariably carried with him as a kind of emblem of office.
+
+"And now, if you'll excuse me, Miss Trevert," he muttered, "I should
+really be going. I am due at Mr. Bardy's office at five o'clock. He is
+coming up from the country specially to meet me. There is so much to
+discuss with regard to this terrible affair."
+
+He glanced at his watch.
+
+"With the roads as greasy as they are," he added, "it will take me all
+my time in the car to ..."
+
+He cast a panic-stricken glance around him. But Mary Trevert held him
+fast.
+
+"You didn't finish what you were saying about Mr. Parrish, Mr. Jeekes,"
+she said impassively. The secretary made no sign. But he looked a trifle
+sullen.
+
+"I don't think you realize, Mr. Jeekes," she said, "that other people
+besides myself are keenly interested in the motives for Mr. Parrish's
+suicide. The police profess to be willing to accept the testimony of the
+specialists as satisfactory medical evidence about his state of mind.
+But I distrust that man, Manderton. He is not satisfied, Mr. Jeekes. He
+won't rest until he knows the truth."
+
+The secretary cast her a frightened glance.
+
+"But Mr. Manderton told me himself, Miss Trevert," he affirmed, "that
+the verdict would be, 'Suicide while temporarily insane,' on Sir
+Winterton Maire's evidence alone ..."
+
+Mary Trevert tapped the ground impatiently with her foot.
+
+"Manderton will get at the truth, I tell you," she said. "He's that kind
+of man. Do you want me to find out from them? At the inquest, perhaps?"
+
+The secretary put his _attach�_ case down on the lounge again.
+
+"Of course, that would be most improper, Miss Trevert," he said. "But
+your question embarrasses me. It embarrasses me very much ..."
+
+"What are you keeping back from me, Mr. Jeekes?" the girl demanded
+imperiously.
+
+The secretary mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. Then, as though
+with an effort, he spoke.
+
+"There is a lady, a French lady, who draws an income from Mr. Parrish ..."
+
+The girl remained impassive, but her eyes grew rather hard.
+
+"These payments are still going on?" she asked.
+
+Jeekes hesitated. Then he nodded,
+
+"Yes," he said.
+
+"Well? Was she blackmailing ... him?"
+
+"No, no," Mr. Jeekes averred hastily. "But there was some unpleasantness
+some months ago ... er ... a county court action, to be precise, about
+some bills she owed. Mr. Parrish was very angry about it and settled to
+prevent it coming into court. But there was some talk about it ... in
+legal circles ..."
+
+He threw a rather scared glance at the girl.
+
+"Please explain yourself, Mr. Jeekes," she said coldly. "I don't
+understand ..."
+
+"Her lawyer was Le Hagen--it's a shady firm with a big criminal
+practice. They sometimes brief Mr. Greve ..."
+
+Mary Trevert clasped and unclasped her hands quickly.
+
+"I quite understand, Mr. Jeekes," she said. "You needn't say any more ..."
+
+She turned away in a manner that implied dismissal. It was as though she
+had forgotten the secretary's existence. He picked up his _attach�_ case
+and walked slowly to the door.
+
+A sharp exclamation broke from his lips.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he cried, "the door ... I shut it a little while
+back ... look, it's ajar!"
+
+The girl who stood at the fire switched on the electric light by the
+mantelpiece.
+
+"Is ... is ... the door defective? Doesn't it shut properly?"
+
+The little secretary forced out the questions in an agitated voice.
+
+The girl walked across the room and shut the door. It closed perfectly,
+a piece of solid, well-fitting oak.
+
+"What does it mean?" said Mr. Jeekes in a whisper. "You understand, I
+should not wish what I told you just now about Mr. Parrish to be
+overheard ..."
+
+They opened the door again. The dusky corridor was empty.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A SHEET OF BLUE PAPER
+
+
+The sight of that crumpled ball of slatey-blue paper brought back to
+Robin's mind with astonishing vividness every detail of the scene in the
+library. Once more he looked into Hartley Parrish's staring, unseeing
+eyes, saw the firelight gleam again on the heavy gold signet ring on the
+dead man's hand, the tag of the dead man's bootlace as it trailed from
+one sprawling foot across the carpet. Once more he felt the dark cloud
+of the mystery envelop him as a mist and with a little sigh he smoothed
+out the crumpled paper.
+
+It was an ordinary quarto sheet of stoutish paper, with a glazed
+surface, of an unusual shade of blue, darker than what the stationers
+call "azure," yet lighter than legal blue. At the top right-hand corner
+was typewritten a date: "Nov. 25." Otherwise the sheet was blank.
+
+The curious thing about it was that a number of rectangular slits had
+been cut in the paper. Robin counted them. There were seven. They were
+of varying sizes, the largest a little over an inch, the smallest not
+more than a quarter of an inch, in length. In depth they measured about
+an eighth of an inch.
+
+Robin stared at the paper uncomprehendingly. He remembered perfectly
+where he had found it on the floor of the library at Harkings, between
+the dead body and the waste-paper basket. The basket, he recalled, stood
+out in the open just clear of the desk on the left-hand side. From the
+position in which it was lying the ball of paper might have been aimed
+for the waste-paper basket and, missing it, have fallen on the carpet.
+
+Robin turned the sheet over. The back was blank. Then he held the paper
+up to the light. Yes, there was a water-mark. Now it was easily
+discernible. "EGMONT FF. QU." he made out.
+
+The train was slowing down. Robin glanced out of the window and saw that
+they were crossing the river in the mirky gloom of a London winter
+Sunday. He balanced the sheet of paper in his hands for a moment. Then
+he folded it carefully into four and stowed it away in his
+cigarette-case. The next moment the train thumped its way into Charing
+Cross.
+
+A taxi deposited him at the Middle Temple Gate. He walked the short
+distance to the set of chambers he occupied. On his front door a piece
+of paper was pinned. By the rambling calligraphy and the phonetic
+English he recognized the hand of his "laundress."
+
+  Dere sir [it ran], mr rite call he want to see u
+  pertikler i tole im as you was in country & give im ur
+  adress hope i dun rite mrs bragg
+
+Robin had scarcely got his key in the door of his "oak" when there was a
+step on the stair. A nice-looking young man with close-cropped fair hair
+appeared round the turn of the staircase.
+
+"Hullo, Robin," he exclaimed impetuously, "I _am_ glad to have caught
+you like this. Your woman gave me your address, so I rang up Harkings at
+once and they told me you had just gone back to town. So I came straight
+here. You remember me, don't you? Bruce Wright ... But perhaps I'm
+butting in. If you'd rather see me some other time...."
+
+"My dear boy," said Robin, motioning him into the flat, "of course I
+remember you. Only I didn't recognize you just for the minute. Shove
+your hat down here in the hall. And as for butting in,"--he threw open
+the door of the living-room,--"why! I think there is no other man in
+England I would so gladly see at this very moment as yourself."
+
+The living-room was a bright and cheery place, tastefully furnished in
+old oak with gay chintz curtains. It looked out on an old-world paved
+court in the centre of which stood a solitary soot-laden plane-tree.
+
+"What's this rot about Parrish having committed suicide?" demanded the
+boy abruptly.
+
+Robin gave him in the briefest terms an outline of the tragedy.
+
+"Poor old H.P., eh?" mused young Wright; "who'd have thought it?"
+
+"But the idea of suicide is preposterous," he broke out suddenly. "I
+knew Parrish probably better than anybody. He would never have done a
+thing like that. It must have been an accident...."
+
+Robin shook his head.
+
+"That possibility is ruled out by the medical evidence," he said, and
+stopped short.
+
+Bruce Wright, who had been pacing up and down the room, halted in front
+of the barrister.
+
+"I tell you that Parrish was not the man to commit suicide. Nothing
+would have even forced him to take his own life. You know, I was working
+with him as his personal secretary every day for more than two years,
+and I am sure!"
+
+He resumed his pacing up and down the room.
+
+"Has it ever occurred to you, Robin," he said presently, "that
+practically nothing is known of H.P.'s antecedents? For instance, do you
+know where he was born?"
+
+"I understand he was a Canadian," replied Robin with a shrewd glance at
+the flushed face of the boy.
+
+"He's lived in Canada," said Wright, "but originally he was a Cockney,
+from the London slums. And I believe I am the only person who knows
+that...."
+
+Robin pushed an armchair at his companion.
+
+"Sit down and tell me about it," he commanded.
+
+The boy dropped into the chair.
+
+"It was after I had been only a few months with him," he began, "shortly
+after I was discharged from the army with that lung wound of mine. We
+were driving back in the car from some munition works near Baling, and
+the chauffeur took a wrong turning near Wormwood Scrubs and got into a
+maze of dirty streets round there...."
+
+"I know," commented Robin, "Notting Dale, they call it...."
+
+"H.P. wasn't noticing much," Wright went on, "as he was dictating
+letters to me,--we used to do a lot of work in the Rolls-Royce in those
+rush days,--but, directly he noticed that the chauffeur was uncertain of
+the road, he shoved his head out of the window and put him right at
+once. I suppose I seemed surprised at his knowing his way about those
+parts, for he laughed at me and said: 'I was born and brought up down
+here, Bruce, in a little greengrocer's shop just off the Latimer Road.'
+I said nothing because I didn't want to interrupt his train of thought.
+He had never talked to me or Jeekes or any of us like that before.
+
+"'By Gad,' he went on, 'how the smell of the place brings back those
+days to me--the smell of decayed fruit, of stale fish, of dirt! Why, it
+seems like yesterday that Victor Marbran and I used to drive round
+uncle's cart with vegetables and coal. What a life to escape from,
+Bruce, my boy! Gad, you can count yourself lucky!'
+
+"He was like a man talking to himself. I asked him how he had broken
+away from it all. At that he laughed, a bitter, hard sort of laugh. 'By
+having the guts to break away from it, boy,' he said. 'It was I who made
+Victor Marbran come away with me. We worked our passages out to the Cape
+and made our way up-country to Matabeleland. That was in the early days
+of Rhodes and Barney Barnato--long before I went to Canada. I made
+Victor's fortune for him and mine as well. But I made more than Victor
+and he never forgave me. He'd do me a bad turn if he could ...'
+
+"Then he broke off short and went on with his dictating ..."
+
+"Did he ever come back to this phase of his life?"
+
+"Only when we got out of the car that morning. He said to me: 'Forget
+what I told you to-day, young fellow. Never rake up a man's past!' And
+he never mentioned the subject again. Of course, I didn't either ..."
+
+Stretched full length in his chair, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, Robin
+remained lost in thought.
+
+"The conversation came back to me to-day," said the boy, "when I read of
+Parrish's death. And I wondered ..."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Whether the secret of his death may not be found somewhere in his
+adventurous past. You see he said that Victor Marbran was an enemy. Then
+there was something else. I never told you--when you took all that
+trouble to get me another job after Parrish had sacked me--the exact
+reason for my dismissal. You never asked me either. That was decent of
+you, Robin ..."
+
+"I liked you, Bruce," said Robin shortly.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you now," he said. "When I joined H.P.'s staff after I
+got out of the Army, I was put under old Jeekes, of course, to learn the
+work. One of the first injunctions he gave me was with regard to Mr.
+Parrish's letters. I suppose you know more or less how secretaries of a
+big business man like Hartley Parrish work. They open all letters, lay
+the important ones before the big man for him to deal with personally,
+make a digest of the others or deal with them direct ..."
+
+Robin nodded.
+
+"Well," the boy resumed, "the first thing old Jeekes told me was that
+letters arriving in a blue envelope and marked 'Personal' were never to
+be opened ..."
+
+"In a blue envelope?" echoed Robin quickly.
+
+"Yes, a particular kind of blue--a sort of slatey-blue--Jeekes showed me
+one as a guide. Well, these letters were to be handed to Mr. Parrish
+unopened."
+
+Robin had stood up.
+
+"That's odd," he said, diving in his pocket.
+
+"I say, hold on a bit," protested the boy, "this is really rather
+important what I am telling you. I'll never finish if you keep on
+interrupting."
+
+"Sorry, Bruce," said Robin, and sat down again.
+
+But he began to play restlessly with his cigarette case which he had
+drawn from his pocket.
+
+"Well, of course," Bruce resumed, "I wasn't much of a private secretary
+really, and one day I forgot all about this injunction. Some days old
+H.P. got as many as three hundred letters. I was alone at Harkings with
+him, I remember, Jeekes was up at Sheffield and the other secretaries
+were away ill or something, and in the rush of dealing with this
+enormous mail I slit one of these blue envelopes open with the rest. I
+discovered what I had done only after I had got all the letters sorted
+out, this one with the rest. So I went straight to old H.P. and told
+him. By Jove!"
+
+"What happened?" said Robin.
+
+"He got into the most paralytic rage," said Bruce. "I have never seen a
+man in such an absolute frenzy of passion. He went right off the hooks,
+just like that! He fairly put the wind up me. For a minute I thought he
+was going to kill me. He snatched the letter out of my hand, called me
+every name under the sun, and finally shouted: 'You're fired, d'ye hear?
+I won't employ men who disobey my orders! Get out of this before I do
+you a mischief! I went straight off. And I never saw him again ..."
+
+Robin Greve looked very serious. But his face displayed no emotion as he
+asked:
+
+"And what was in the letter for him to make such a fuss about?"
+
+The boy shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"That was the extraordinary part of it. The letter was perfectly
+harmless. It was an ordinary business letter from a firm in Holland ..."
+
+"In Holland?" cried Greve. "Did you say in Holland? Tell me the name!
+No, wait, see if I can remember. 'Van' something--'Speck' or 'Spike' ..."
+
+"I remember the name perfectly," answered Bruce, rather puzzled by the
+other's sudden outburst; "it was Van der Spyck and Co. of Rotterdam. We
+had a good deal of correspondence with them ..."
+
+Robin Greve had opened his cigarette-case and drawn from it a creased
+square of blue paper folded twice across. Unfolding it, he held up the
+sheet he had found in the library at Harkings.
+
+"Is that the paper those letters were written on?" he asked.
+
+Bruce took the sheet from him. He held it up to the light.
+
+"Why, yes," came the prompt answer. "I'd know it in a minute. Look, it's
+the same water-mark. 'Egmont.' Where did you get hold of it?"
+
+"Bruce," said Robin gravely, without answering the question, "we're
+getting into deep water, boy!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+SHADOWS
+
+
+Robert Greve stood for an instant in silence by the window of his rooms.
+His fingers hammered out a tattoo on the pane. His eyes were fixed on
+the windows of the chambers across the court. But they did not take in
+the pleasant prospect of the tall, ivy-framed casements in their mellow
+setting of warm red brick. He was trying to fix a mental photograph of a
+letter--typewritten on paper of dark slatey blue--which he had seen on
+Hartley Parrish's desk in the library at Harkings on the previous
+afternoon.
+
+Prompted by Bruce Wright, he could now recall the heading clearly.
+"ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & Co., GENERAL IMPORTERS, ROTTERDAM," stood printed
+before his eyes as plainly as though he still held the typewritten sheet
+in front of him. But the mind plays curious tricks. Robin's brain had
+registered the name; yet it recorded no impression of the contents of
+the letter. Beyond the fact that it dealt in plain commercial fashion
+with some shipments or other, he could recall no particular whatever of
+it.
+
+"But where did you get hold of this sheet of paper?" Bruce Wright's
+voice broke in impatiently behind him. "I'm most frightfully interested
+to know ..."
+
+"Found it on the floor beside Parrish's body," answered Robin briefly.
+"There was a letter, too, on the same paper ..."
+
+"By Gad!" exclaimed the boy eagerly, "have you got that too?"
+
+Robin shook his head.
+
+"It was only your story that made me think of it. I had the letter. But
+I left it where I found it--on Parrish's desk in the library ..."
+
+"But you read it ... you know what was in it?"
+
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"It was a perfectly straightforward business letter ... something about
+steel shipments ... I don't remember any more ..."
+
+"A straightforward business letter," commented the boy. "Like the letter
+I read, eh?..."
+
+"Tell me, Bruce," said Robin, after a moment's silence, "during the time
+you were with Hartley Parrish, I suppose these blue letters came pretty
+often?"
+
+Young Wright wrinkled his brow in thought.
+
+"It's rather difficult to say. You see, there were three of us besides
+old Jeekes, and, of course, these letters might have come without my
+knowledge anything about it. But during the seven months I worked with
+H.P. I suppose about half a dozen of these letters passed through my
+hands. They used to worry H.P., you know, Robin ..."
+
+"Worry him?" exclaimed Robin sharply; "how do you mean?"
+
+"Well," said Bruce, "Parrish was a very easygoing fellow, you know. He
+worked every one--himself included--like the devil, of course. But he
+was hardly ever nervy or grumpy. And so I was a bit surprised to
+find--after I had been with him for a time--that every now and then he
+sort of shrivelled up. He used to look ... well, careworn and ... and
+haggard. And at these times he was pretty short with all of us. It was
+such an extraordinary change from his usual cheery, optimistic self that
+sometimes I suspected him of dope or some horror like that ..."
+
+Robin shook his head. He had a sudden vision of Hartley Parrish, one of
+his long, black Partagas thrust at an aggressive angle from a corner of
+his mouth, virile, battling, strong.
+
+"Oh, no," he said, "not dope ..."
+
+"No, no, I know," the boy went on quickly. "It wasn't dope. It was
+fear ..."
+
+Robin swung round from the window.
+
+"Fear? Fear of what?"
+
+The boy cast a frightened glance over his shoulder rather as if he
+fancied he might be overheard.
+
+"Of those letters," he replied. "I am sure it was that. I watched him
+and ... and I _know_. Every time he got one of those letters in the
+bluish envelopes, these curious fits of gloom came over him. Robin ..."
+
+"What, Bruce?"
+
+"I think he was being blackmailed!"
+
+The barrister nodded thoughtfully.
+
+"Don't you agree?"
+
+The boy awaited his answer eagerly.
+
+"Something very like that," replied the other.
+
+Then suddenly he smashed his fist into the open palm of his other hand.
+
+"But he wouldn't have taken it lying down!" he cried. "Hartley Parrish
+was a fighter, Bruce. Did you ever know a man who could best him? No,
+no, it won't fit! Besides ..."
+
+He broke off and thought for an instant.
+
+"We must get that letter from Harkings," he said presently. "Jeekes will
+have it. We can do nothing until ..."
+
+His voice died away. Bruce, sunk in one of the big leather armchairs,
+was astonished to see him slip quickly away from the window and ensconce
+himself behind one of the chintz curtains.
+
+"Here, Bruce," Robin called softly across the room. "Just come here.
+But take care not to show yourself. Look out, keep behind the curtain
+and here ... peep out through this chink!"
+
+Young Wright peered through a narrow slit between the curtain and the
+window-frame. In the far corner of the courtyard beneath the windows,
+where a short round iron post marked a narrow passage leading to the
+adjoining court, a man was standing. He wore a shabby suit and a blue
+handkerchief knotted about his neck served him as a substitute for the
+more conventional collar and tie. His body was more than half concealed
+by the side of the house along which the passage ran. But his face was
+clearly distinguishable--a peaky, thin face, the upper part in the
+shadow of the peak of a discoloured tweed cap.
+
+"He's been there on and off all the time we've been talking," said
+Robin. "I wasn't sure at first. But now I'm certain. He's watching these
+windows! Look!"
+
+Briskly the watcher's head was withdrawn to emerge again, slowly and
+cautiously, in a little while.
+
+"But who is he? What does he want?" asked Bruce.
+
+"I haven't an idea," retorted Robin Greve. "But I could guess. Tell me,
+Bruce," he went on, stepping back from the window and motioning the boy
+to do the same, "did you notice anybody following you when you came
+here?"
+
+Bruce shook his head.
+
+"I'm pretty sure nobody did. You see, I came in from the Strand, down
+Middle Temple Lane. Once service has started at Temple Church there's
+not a mouse stirring in the Inn till the church is out. I think I should
+have noticed if any one had followed me up to your chambers ..."
+
+Robin set his chin squarely.
+
+"Then he came after me," he said. "Bruce, you'll have to go to Harkings
+and get that letter!"
+
+"By all means," answered the boy. "But, I say, they won't much like me
+butting in, will they?"
+
+"You'll have to say you came down to offer your sympathy, ... volunteer
+your services ... oh, anything. But you _must_ get that letter! Do you
+understand, Bruce? _You must get that letter_--if you have to steal
+it!"
+
+The boy gave a long whistle.
+
+"That's rather a tall order, isn't it?" he said.
+
+Robin nodded. His face was very grave.
+
+"Yes," he said presently, "I suppose it is. But there is something ...
+something horrible behind this case, Bruce, something dark and ... and
+mysterious. And I mean to get to the bottom of it. With your help. Or
+alone!"
+
+Bruce put his hand impulsively on the other's arm.
+
+"You can count on me, you know," he said. "But don't you think ..."
+
+He broke off shyly.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Don't you think you'd better tell me what you know. And what you
+suspect!"
+
+Robin hesitated.
+
+"Yes," he said, "that's fair. I suppose I ought. But there's not much to
+tell, Bruce. Just before Hartley Parrish was found dead, I asked Miss
+Trevert to marry me. I was too late. She was already engaged to Hartley
+Parrish. I was horrified ... I know some things about Parrish ... we had
+words and I went off. Five minutes later Miss Trevert went to fetch
+Parrish in to tea and heard a shot behind the locked door of the
+library. Horace Trevert got in through the window and found Parrish
+dead. Every one down at Harkings believes that I went in and threatened
+Parrish so that he committed suicide ..."
+
+"Whom do you mean by every one?"
+
+Robin laughed drily. "Mary Trevert, her mother, Horace Trevert ..."
+
+"The police, too?"
+
+"Certainly. The police more than anybody!"
+
+"By Jove!" commented the boy.
+
+"You ask me what I suspect," Robin continued. "I admit I have no
+positive proof. But I suspect that Hartley Parrish did not die by his
+own hand!"
+
+Bruce Wright looked up with a startled expression on his face.
+
+"You mean that he was murdered?"
+
+"I do!"
+
+"But how? Why?"
+
+Then Robin told him of the experiment in the library, of the open window
+and of the bullet mark he had discovered in the rosery.
+
+"What I want to know," he said, "and what I am determined to find out
+beyond any possible doubt, is whether the bullet found in Hartley
+Parrish's body was fired from _his_ pistol. But before we reach that
+point we have to explain how it happened that only one shot was heard
+and how a bullet which _apparently_ came from Parrish's pistol was found
+in his body ..."
+
+"If Mr. Parrish was murdered, the murderer might have turned the gun
+round in Parrish's hand and forced him to shoot himself ..."
+
+"Hardly," said Robin. "Remember, Mary Trevert was at the door when the
+shot was fired. Your theory presupposes the employment of force, in
+other words, a struggle. Miss Trevert heard no scuffling. No, I've
+thought of that.. it won't do ..."
+
+"Have you any suspicion of who the murderer might be?"
+
+Robin shook his head decidedly.
+
+"Not a shadow of an idea," he affirmed positively. "But I have a notion
+that we shall find a clue in this letter which, like a blithering fool,
+I left on Parrish's desk. It's the first glimmer of hope I've seen yet ..."
+
+Bruce Wright squared his shoulders and threw his head back.
+
+"I'll get it for you," he said.
+
+"Good boy," said Robin. "But, Bruce," he went on, "you'll have to go
+carefully. My name is mud in that house. You mustn't say you come from
+me. And if you ask boldly for the letter, they won't give it to you.
+Jeekes might, if he's there and you approach him cautiously. But, for
+Heaven's sake, don't try any diplomacy on Manderton ... that's the
+Scotland Yard man. He's as wary as a fox and sharp as needles."
+
+Bruce Wright buttoned up his coat with an air of finality.
+
+"Leave it to me," he said, "I know Harkings like my pocket. Besides I've
+got a friend there ..."
+
+"Who might that be?" queried the barrister.
+
+"Bude," answered the boy and laid a finger on his lips.
+
+"But," he pursued, jerking his head in the direction of the window,
+"what are we going to do about him out there?"
+
+Robin laughed.
+
+"Him?" he said. "Oh, I'm going to take him out for an airing!"
+
+Robin stepped out into the hall. He returned wearing his hat and
+overcoat. In his hand were two yale keys strung on a wisp of pink tape.
+
+"Listen, Bruce," he said. "Give me ten minutes' start to get rid of this
+jackal. Then clear out. There's a train to Stevenish at 3.23. If you get
+on the Underground at the Temple you ought to be able to make it easily.
+Here are the keys of the chambers. I can put you up here to-night if you
+like. I'll expect you when I see you ... with that letter. Savvy?"
+
+The boy stood up.
+
+"You'll have that letter to-night," he answered. "But in the
+meantime,"--he waved the blue sheet with its mysterious slots at
+Robin,--"what do you make of this?"
+
+Robin took the sheet of paper from him and replaced it in his
+cigarette-case.
+
+"Perhaps, when we have the letter," he replied, "I shall be able to
+answer that question!"
+
+Then he lit a cigarette, gave the boy his hand, and a minute later Bruce
+Wright, watching through the chink of the curtain from the window of
+Robin Greve's chambers, saw a lanky form shuffle across the court and
+follow Robin round the angle of the house.
+
+Robin strode quickly through the maze of narrow passages and tranquil,
+echoing courts into the Sabbath stillness of the Strand. An occasional
+halt at a shop-window was sufficient to assure him that the watcher of
+the Temple was still on his heels. The man, he was interested to see,
+played his part very unobtrusively, shambling along in nonchalant
+fashion, mostly hugging the sides of the houses, ready to dart out of
+sight into a doorway or down a side turning, should he by any mischance
+arrive too close on the heels of his quarry.
+
+As he walked along, Robin turned over in his mind the best means for
+getting rid of his shadow. Should he dive into a Tube station and plunge
+headlong down the steps? He rejected this idea as calculated to let the
+tracker know that his presence was suspected. Then he reviewed in his
+mind the various establishments he knew of in London with double
+entrances, thinking that he might slip in by the one entrance and
+emerge by the other.
+
+In Pall Mall he came upon Tony Grandell, whom he had last seen playing
+bridge in the company dugout on the Flesquieres Ridge. Then he had been
+in "battle order," camouflaged as a private soldier, as officers were
+ordered to go over the top in the latter phases of the war. Now he was
+resplendent in what the invitation cards call "Morning Dress" crowned by
+what must certainly have been the most relucent top-hat in London.
+
+"Hullo, hullo, hullo!" cried Tony, on catching sight of him; "stand to
+your kits and so forth! And how is my merry company commander? Robin,
+dear, come and relieve the medieval gloom of lunch with my aunt at
+Mart's!"
+
+He linked his arm affectionately in Robin's.
+
+Mart's! Robin's brain snatched at the word. Mart's! most respectable of
+"family hotels," wedged in between two quiet streets off Piccadilly with
+an entrance from both. If ever a man wanted to dodge a sleuth,
+especially a grimy tatterdemalion like the one sidling up Pall Mall
+behind them ...
+
+"Tony, old son," said Robin, "I won't lunch with you even to set the
+board in a roar at your aunt's luncheon-party. But I'll walk up to
+Mart's with you, for I'm going there myself ..."
+
+They entered Mart's together and parted in the vestibule, where Tony
+gravely informed his "dear old scream" that he must fly to his
+"avuncular luncheon." Robin walked quickly through the hotel and left by
+the other entrance. The street was almost deserted. Of the man with the
+dingy neckerchief there was no sign. Robin hurried into Piccadilly and
+hopped on a 'bus which put him down at his club facing the Green Park.
+
+He had a late lunch there and afterwards took a taxi back to the Temple.
+The daylight was failing as he crossed the courtyard in front of his
+chambers. In the centre the smoke-blackened plane-tree throned it in
+unchallenged solitude. But, as Robin's footsteps echoed across the
+flags, something more substantial than a shadow seemed to melt into the
+gathering dusk in the corner where the narrow passage ran.
+
+Robin stopped to listen at the entrance to his chambers. As he stood
+there he heard a heavy tread on the stone steps within. He turned to
+face a solidly built swarthy-looking man who emerged from the building.
+
+He favoured Robin with a leisurely, searching stare, then strode heavily
+across the courtyard to the little passage where he disappeared from
+view.
+
+Robin looked after him. The man was a stranger: the occupants of the
+other chambers were all known to him. With a thoughtful expression on
+his face Robin entered the house and mounted to his rooms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE INTRUDER
+
+
+"D----!" exclaimed Bruce Wright.
+
+He stood in the great porch at Harkings, his finger on the electric
+bell. No sound came in response to the pressure, nor any one to open the
+door. Thus he had stood for fully ten minutes listening in vain for any
+sound within the house. All was still as death. He began to think that
+the bell was out of order. He had forgotten Hartley Parrish's insistence
+on quiet. All bells at Harkings rang, discreetly muted, in the servants'
+hall.
+
+He stepped out of the porch on to the drive. The weather had improved
+and, under a freshening wind, the country was drying up. As he reached
+the hard gravel, he heard footsteps, Bude appeared, his collar turned
+up, his swallow-tails floating in the wind.
+
+"Now, be off with you!" he cried as soon as he caught sight of the trim
+figure in the grey overcoat; "how many more of ye have I to tell there's
+nothing for you to get here! Go on, get out before I put the dog on
+you!"
+
+He waved an imperious hand at Bruce.
+
+"Hullo, Bude," said the boy, "you've grown very inhospitable all of a
+sudden!"
+
+"God bless my soul if it isn't young Mr. Wright!" exclaimed the butler.
+"And I thought it was another of those dratted reporters. It's been
+ring, ring, ring the whole blessed morning, sir, you can believe me, as
+if they owned the place, wanting to interview me and Mr. Jeekes and Miss
+Trevert and the Lord knows who else. Lot of interfering busybodies, _I_
+call 'em! I'd shut up all noospapers by law if I had my way ..."
+
+"Is Mr. Jeekes here, Bude?" asked Bruce.
+
+"He's gone off to London in the car, sir ... But won't you come in, Mr.
+Wright? If you wouldn't mind coming in by the side door. I have to keep
+the front door closed to shut them scribbling fellows out. One of them
+had the face to ask me to let him into the library to take a
+photograph ..."
+
+He led the way round the side of the house to the glass door in the
+library corridor.
+
+"This is a sad business, Bude!" said Bruce.
+
+"Ah, indeed, it is, sir," he sighed. "He had his faults had Mr. Parrish,
+as well _you_ know, Mr. Wright. But he was an open-handed gentleman,
+that I will say, and we'll all miss him at Harkings ..."
+
+They were now in the corridor. Bude jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
+
+"It was in there they found him," he said in a low voice, "with a hole
+plumb over the heart."
+
+His voice sank to a whisper. "There's blood on the carpet!" he added
+impressively.
+
+"I should like just to take a peep at the room, Bude," ventured the boy,
+casting a sidelong glance at the butler.
+
+"Can't be done, sir," said Bude, shaking his head; "orders of
+Detective-Inspector Manderton. The police is very strict, Mr. Wright,
+sir!"
+
+"There seems to be no one around just now, Bude," the young man
+wheedled. "There can't be any harm in my just going in for a second?..."
+
+"Go in you should, Mr. Wright, sir," said the butler genially, "if I had
+my way. But the door's locked. And, what's more, the police have the
+key."
+
+"Is the detective anywhere about?" asked Bruce.
+
+"No, sir," answered Bude. "He's gone off to town, too! And he don't
+expect to be back before the inquest. That's for Toosday!"
+
+"But isn't there another key anywhere?" persisted the boy.
+
+"No, sir," said Bude positively, "there isn't but the one. And that's
+in Mr. Manderton's vest pocket!"
+
+Young Wright wrinkled his brow in perplexity. He was very young, but he
+had a fine strain of perseverance in him. He was not nearly at the end
+of his resources, he told himself.
+
+"Well, then," he said suddenly, "I'm going outside to have a look
+through the window. I remember you can see into the library from the
+path round the house!"
+
+He darted out, the butler, protesting, lumbering along behind him.
+
+"Mr. Wright," he panted as he ran, "you didn't reelly ought ... If any
+one should come ..."
+
+But Bruce Wright was already at the window. The butler found him leaning
+on the sill, peering with an air of frightened curiosity into the empty
+room.
+
+"The glazier from Stevenish"--Bude's voice breathed the words hoarsely
+in Wright's ear--"is coming to-morrow morning to put the window in. He
+wouldn't come to-day, him being a chapel-goer and religious. It was
+there we found poor Mr. Parrish--d'you see, sir, just between the window
+and the desk!"
+
+But Bruce Wright did not heed him. His eyes were fixed on the big
+writing-desk, on the line of black japanned letter-trays set out in
+orderly array. Outside, the short winter afternoon was drawing in fast,
+and the light was failing. Dusky shadows within the library made it
+difficult to distinguish objects clearly.
+
+A voice close at hand cried out sharply:
+
+"Mr. Bude! Mr. Bu-u-ude!"
+
+"They're calling me!" whispered the butler in his ear with a tug at his
+sleeve; "come away, sir!"
+
+But Bruce shook him off. He heard the man's heavy tread on the gravel,
+then a door slam.
+
+How dark the room was growing, to be sure! Strain his eyes as he might,
+he could not get a clear view of the contents of the letter-trays on the
+desk. But their high backs hid their contents from his eyes. Even when
+he hoisted himself on to the window-sill he could not get a better view.
+
+He dropped back on to the gravel path and listened. The wind soughed
+sadly in the bare tree-tops, somewhere in the distance a dog barked
+hoarsely, insistently; otherwise not a sound was to be heard. He cast a
+cautious glance round the side of the house. The glass door was shut;
+the lamp in the corridor had not been lit.
+
+Hoisting himself up to the window-sill again, he crooked one knee on the
+rough edge and thrusting one arm through the broken pane of glass,
+unbolted the window. Then, steadying himself with one hand, with the
+other he very gently pushed up the window, threw his legs across the
+sill, and dropped into the library. Very deliberately, he turned and
+pushed the window softly down behind him.
+
+Some unconscious prompting, perhaps an unfamiliar surface beneath his
+feet, made him look down. Where his feet rested on the mole-grey carpet
+a wide dark patch stood out from the delicate shade of the rug. For a
+moment a spasm of physical nausea caught him.
+
+"How beastly!" he whispered to himself and took a step towards the desk.
+
+Hartley Parrish's desk was arranged just as he always remembered it to
+have been. All the letter-trays save one were empty. In that was a
+little pile of papers held down by a massive marble paper-weight.
+Quickly he stepped round the desk.
+
+He had put out his hand to lift the weight when there was a gentle
+rattle at the door.
+
+Bruce Wright wheeled instantly round, back to the desk, to face the
+door, which, in the gathering dusk, was now but a squarer patch of
+darkness among the shadows at the far end of the library. He stood
+absolutely still, rooted to the spot, his heart thumping so fast that,
+in that silent room, he could hear the rapid beats.
+
+Some one was unlocking the library door. As realization came to the
+boy, he tiptoed rapidly round the desk, the sound of his feet muffled by
+the heavy pile carpet, and reached the window. There was a click as the
+lock of the door was shot back. Without further hesitation Bruce stepped
+behind the long curtains which fell from the top of the window to the
+floor.
+
+The curtains, of some heavy grey material, were quite opaque. Bruce
+realized, with a sinking heart, that he must depend on his ears to
+discover the identity of this mysterious interloper. He dared not look
+out from his hiding-place--at least not until he could be sure that the
+newcomer had his back to the window. He remained, rigid and vigilant,
+straining his ears to catch the slightest sound, scarcely daring to
+breathe.
+
+He heard the door open, heard it softly close again. Then ... silence.
+Not another sound. The boy remembered the heavy pile carpet and cursed
+his luck. He would have to risk a peep round the curtains. But not yet!
+He must wait ...
+
+A very slight rustling, a faint prolonged rustling, caught his ear. It
+came nearer, then stopped. There was a little rattling noise from
+somewhere close at hand, a small clinking sound.
+
+Then silence fell again.
+
+The wind whooshed sadly round the house, the window clattered dismally
+in its frame, the curtains tugged fretfully before the cold breeze which
+blew in at the broken pane. But the silence in the room was absolute.
+
+It began to oppress the boy. It frightened him. He felt an
+uncontrollable desire to look out into the room and establish the
+identity of the mysterious entrant. He glided his hand towards the
+window-frame in the hope that he might find a chink between curtain and
+wall through which he might risk a peep into the room. But the curtain
+was fastened to the wall.
+
+The room was almost entirely dark now. Only behind him was a patch of
+grey light where the lowering evening sky was framed in the window. He
+began to draw the curtain very slowly towards him, at the same time
+leaning to the right. Very cautiously he applied one eye to the edge of
+the curtain.
+
+As he did so a bright light struck him full in the face. It streamed
+full from a lamp on the desk and almost blinded him. It was a
+reading-lamp and the bulb had been turned up so as to throw a beam on
+the curtain behind which the boy was sheltering.
+
+Behind the desk, straining back in terror, stood a slim, girlish figure.
+The details of her dress were lost in the gathering shadows, but her
+face stood out in the gloom, a pale oval. Bruce could see the dark line
+made by the lashes on her cheek.
+
+At the sight of her, he stepped boldly forth from his hiding-place,
+shielding his eyes from the light with his hand.
+
+"It's Bruce Wright, Miss Trevert," he said, "don't you remember me?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+A FRESH CLUE
+
+
+"Oh!" cried the girl, "you frightened me! You frightened me! What do you
+want here ... in this horrible room?"
+
+She was trembling. One slim hand plucked nervously at her dress. Her
+breath came and went quickly.
+
+"I saw the curtain move. I thought it was the wind at first. But then I
+saw the outline of your fingers. And I imagined it was he ... come
+back ..."
+
+"Miss Trevert," said the boy abashed, "I must have frightened you
+terribly. I had no idea it was you!"
+
+"But why are you hiding here? How did you get in? What do you want in
+this house?"
+
+She spoke quickly, nervously. Some papers she held in her hand shook
+with her emotion. Bruce Wright stepped to the desk and turned the bulb
+of the reading-lamp down into its normal position.
+
+"I must apologize most sincerely for the fright I gave you," he said.
+"But, believe me, Miss Trevert, I had no idea that anybody could gain
+access to this room. I climbed in through the window. Bude told me that
+the police had taken away the key ..."
+
+The girl made an impatient gesture.
+
+"But why have you come here?" she said. "What do you want?"
+
+The boy measured her with a narrow glance. He was young, but he was
+shrewd. He saw her frank eyes, her candid, open mien, and he took a
+rapid decision.
+
+"I think I have come," he answered slowly, "for the same purpose as
+yourself!"
+
+And he looked at the papers in her hand.
+
+"I used to be Mr. Parrish's secretary, you know," he said.
+
+The girl sighed--a little fluttering sigh--and looked earnestly at him.
+
+"I remember," she said. "Hartley liked you. He was sorry that he sent
+you away. He often spoke of you to me. But why have you come back? What
+do you mean by saying you have come for the same purpose as myself?"
+
+Bruce Wright looked at the array of letter-trays. The marble
+paper-weight had been displaced. The tray in which it had lain was
+empty. He looked at the sheaf of papers in the girl's hand.
+
+"I wanted to see," he replied, "whether there was anything here ... on
+his desk ... which would explain the mystery of his death ..."
+
+The girl spread out the papers in her hand on the big blotter.
+
+She laid the papers out in a row and leant forward, her white arms
+resting on the desk. From the other side of the desk the boy leant
+eagerly forward and scanned the line of papers.
+
+At the first glimpse his face fell. The girl, eyeing him closely, marked
+the change which came over his features.
+
+There were seven papers of various kinds, both printed and written, and
+they were all on white paper.
+
+The boy shook his head and swept the papers together into a heap.
+
+"It's not there?" queried the girl eagerly.
+
+"No!" said Bruce absent-mindedly, glancing round the desk.
+
+"What isn't?" flashed back the girl.
+
+Bruce Wright felt his face redden with vexation. What sort of a
+confidential emissary was he to fall into a simple trap like this?
+
+The girl smiled rather wanly.
+
+"Now I know what you meant by saying you had come for the same purpose
+as myself," she said. "I suppose we both thought we might find
+something, a letter, perhaps, which would explain why Mr. Parrish did
+this dreadful thing, something to relieve this awful uncertainty about ...
+about his motive. Well, I've searched the desk ... and there's
+nothing! Nothing but just these prospectuses and receipts which were in
+the letter-tray here. They must have come by the post yesterday morning.
+And there's nothing of any importance in the drawers ... only household
+receipts and the wages book and a few odd things like that! You can see
+for yourself ..."
+
+The lower part of the desk consisted of three drawers flanked on either
+side by cupboards. Mary Trevert pulled out the drawers and opened the
+cupboards. Two of the drawers were entirely empty and one of the
+cupboards contained nothing but a stack of cigar boxes. One drawer held
+various papers appertaining to the house. There was no sign of any
+letter written on the slatey-blue paper.
+
+The boy looked very hard at Mary.
+
+"You say there was nothing in the letter-tray but these papers here?" he
+asked.
+
+"Nothing but these," replied the girl.
+
+"You didn't notice any official-looking letter on bluish paper?" he
+ventured to ask.
+
+"No," answered the girl. "I found nothing but these."
+
+The boy thought for a moment.
+
+"Do you know," he asked, "whether the police or anybody have been
+through the desk?"
+
+"I don't know at all," said Mary, smoothing back a lock of hair from her
+temple; "I daresay Mr. Jeekes had a look round, as he had a meeting with
+Mr. Parrish's lawyer in town this afternoon!"
+
+She had lost all trace of her fright and was now quite calm and
+collected.
+
+"Do you know for certain whether Mr. Jeekes was in here?" asked Bruce.
+
+"Oh, yes. The first thing he did on arriving last night was to go to the
+library."
+
+"I suppose Jeekes is coming back here to-night?"
+
+No, she told him. Mr. Jeekes did not expect to return to Harkings until
+the inquest on Tuesday.
+
+Bruce Wright picked up his hat.
+
+"I must apologize again, Miss Trevert," he said, "for making such an
+unconventional entrance and giving you such a fright. But I felt I could
+not rest until I had investigated matters for myself. I would have
+presented myself in the ordinary way, but, as I told you, Bude told me
+the police had locked up the room and taken away the key ..."
+
+Mary Trevert smiled forgivingly.
+
+"So they did," she said. "But Jay--Mr. Parrish's man, you know--had
+another key. He brought it to me."
+
+She looked at Bruce with a whimsical little smile.
+
+"You must have been very uncomfortable behind those curtains," she said.
+"I believe you were just as frightened as I was."
+
+She walked round the desk to the window.
+
+"It was a good hiding-place," she remarked, "but not much good as an
+observation post. Why! you could see nothing of the room. The curtains
+are much too thick!"
+
+"Not a thing," Bruce agreed rather ruefully. "I thought you were the
+detective!"
+
+He held out his hand to take his leave with a smile. He was a
+charming-looking boy with a remarkably serene expression which went well
+with close-cropped golden hair.
+
+Mary Trevert did not take his hand for an instant. Looking down at the
+point of her small black suede shoe she said shyly:
+
+"Mr. Wright, you are a friend of Mr. Greve, aren't you?"
+
+"Rather!" was the enthusiastic answer.
+
+"Do you see him often?"
+
+The boy's eyes narrowed suddenly. Was this a cross-examination?
+
+"Oh, yes," he replied, "every now and then!"
+
+Mary Trevert raised her eyes to his.
+
+"Will you do something for me?" she said. "Tell Mr. Greve not to trust
+Manderton. He will know whom I mean. Tell him to be on his guard against
+that man. Say he means mischief. Tell him, above all things, to be
+careful. Make him go away ... go abroad until this thing has blown
+over ..."
+
+She spoke with intense earnestness, her dark eyes fixed on Bruce
+Wright's face.
+
+"But promise me you won't say this comes from me! Do you understand?
+There are reasons, very strong reasons, for this. Will you promise?"
+
+"Of course!"
+
+She took Bruce's outstretched hand.
+
+"I promise," he said.
+
+"You mustn't go without tea," said the girl. "Besides,"--she glanced at
+a little platinum watch on her wrist,--"there's not another train until
+six. There is no need for you to start yet. I don't like being left
+alone. Mother has one of her headaches, and Horace and Dr. Romain have
+gone to Stevenish. Come up to my sitting-room!"
+
+She led the way out of the library, locking the door behind them, and
+together they went up to the Chinese boudoir where tea was laid on a low
+table before a bright fire. In the dainty room with its bright colours
+they seemed far removed from the tragedy which had darkened Harkings.
+
+They had finished tea when a tap came at the door. Bude appeared. He
+cast a reproachful look at Bruce.
+
+"Jay would be glad to have a word with you, Miss," he said.
+
+The girl excused herself and left the room. She was absent for about ten
+minutes. When she returned, she had a little furrow of perplexity
+between her brows. She walked over to the open fireplace and stood
+silent for an instant, her foot tapping the hearth-rug.
+
+"Mr. Wright," she said presently, "I'm going to tell you something that
+Jay has just told me. I want your advice ..."
+
+The boy looked at her interrogatively. But he did not speak.
+
+"I think this is rather important," the girl went on, "but I don't quite
+understand in what way it is. Jay tells me that Mr. Parrish had on his
+pistol a sort of steel fitting attached to the end ... you know, the
+part you shoot out of. Mr. Parrish used to keep his automatic in a
+drawer in his dressing-room, and Jay has often seen it there with this
+attachment fitted on. Well, when Mr. Parrish was discovered in the
+library yesterday, this thing was no longer on the pistol. And Jay says
+it's not to be found!..."
+
+"That's rather strange!" commented Bruce. "But what was this steel
+contraption for, do you know? Was it a patent sight or something?"
+
+"Jay doesn't know," answered the girl.
+
+"Would you mind if I spoke to Jay myself?" asked the young man.
+
+In reply the girl touched the bell beside the fireplace. Bude answered
+the summons and was despatched to find Jay. He appeared in due course, a
+tall, dark, sleek young man wearing a swallow-tail coat and striped
+trousers.
+
+"How are you, Jay?" said Bruce affably.
+
+"Very well, thank you, sir," replied the valet.
+
+"Miss Trevert was telling me about this appliance which you say Mr.
+Parrish had on his automatic. Could you describe it to me?"
+
+"Well, sir," answered the man rather haltingly, "it was a little sort of
+cup made of steel or gun-metal fitting closely over the barrel ..."
+
+"And you don't know what it was for?"
+
+"No, sir!"
+
+"Was it a sight, do you think?"
+
+"I can't say, I'm sure, sir!"
+
+"You know what a sight looks like, I suppose. Was there a bead on it or
+anything like it?"
+
+"I can't say, I'm sure, sir. I never gave any particular heed to it. I
+used to see the automatic lying in the drawer of the wardrobe in Mr.
+Parrish's room in a wash-leather case. I noticed this steel appliance,
+sir, because the case wouldn't shut over the pistol with it on and the
+butt used to stick out."
+
+"When did you last notice Mr. Parrish's automatic?"
+
+"It would be Thursday or Friday, sir. I went to that drawer to get Mr.
+Parrish an old stock to go riding in as some new ones he had bought were
+stiff and hurt him."
+
+"And this steel cup was on the pistol then?"
+
+"Oh, yes, sir!"
+
+"And you say it was not on the pistol when Mr. Parrish's body was
+found?"
+
+"No, sir!"
+
+"Are you sure of this?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I was one of the first in the room, and I saw the pistol in
+Mr. Parrish's hand, and there was no sign of the cup, sir. So I've had a
+good look among his things and I can't find it anywhere!"
+
+Bruce Wright pondered a minute.
+
+"Try and think, Jay," he said, "if you can't remember anything more
+about this steel cup, as you call it. Where did Mr. Parrish buy it?"
+
+"Can't say, I'm sure, sir. He had it before ever I took service with
+him!"
+
+Jay put his hand to his forehead for an instant.
+
+"Now I come to think of it," he said, "there was the name of the shop or
+maker on it, stamped on the steel. 'Maxim,' that was the name, now I put
+my mind back, with a number ..."
+
+"Maxim?" echoed Bruce Wright. "Did you say Maxim?"
+
+"Yes, sir! That was the name!" replied the valet impassively.
+
+"By Jove!" said the boy half to himself. Then he said aloud to Jay:
+
+"Did you tell the police about this?"
+
+Jay looked somewhat uncomfortable.
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Jay looked at Mary Trevert.
+
+"Well, sir, I thought perhaps I'd better tell Miss Trevert first. Bude
+thought so, too. That there Manderton has made so much unpleasantness in
+the house with his prying ways that I said to myself, sir ..."
+
+Bruce Wright looked at Mary.
+
+"Would you mind if I asked Jay not to say anything about this to anybody
+just for the present?" he asked.
+
+"You hear what Mr. Wright says, Jay," said Mary. "I don't want you to
+say anything about this matter just yet. Do you understand?"
+
+"Yes, Miss. Will that be all, Miss?"
+
+"Yes, thank you, Jay!"
+
+"Thanks very much, Jay," said the boy. "This may be important. Mum's the
+word, though!"
+
+"I _quite_ understand, sir," answered the valet and left the room.
+
+Hardly had the door closed on him than the girl turned eagerly to Bruce.
+
+"It _is_ important?" she asked.
+
+"It may be," was the guarded reply.
+
+"Don't leave me in the dark like this," the girl pleaded. "This horrible
+affair goes on growing and growing, and at every step it seems more
+bewildering ... more ghastly. Tell me where it is leading, Mr. Wright! I
+can't stand the suspense much more!"
+
+Her voice broke, and she turned her face away.
+
+"You must be brave, Miss Trevert," said the boy, putting his hand on her
+shoulder. "Don't ask me to tell you more now. Your friends are working
+to get at the truth ..."
+
+"The truth!" cried the girl. "God knows where the truth will lead us!"
+
+Bruce Wright hesitated a moment.
+
+"I don't think you have any need to fear the truth!" he said presently.
+
+The girl took her handkerchief from her face and looked at him with
+brimming eyes.
+
+"You know more than you let me think you did," she said brokenly. "But
+you are a friend of mine, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes," said Bruce, and added boldly:
+
+"And of his too!"
+
+She did not speak again, but gave him her hand. He clasped it and went
+out hurriedly to catch his train back to London.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE SILENT SHOT
+
+
+That faithful servitor of Fleet Street, the Law Courts clock, had just
+finished striking seven. It boomed out the hour, stroke by stroke,
+solemnly, inexorably, like a grim old judge summing up and driving home,
+point by point, an irrefutable charge. The heavy strokes broke in upon
+the fitful doze into which Robin Greve, stretched out in an armchair in
+his living-room, had dropped.
+
+He roused up with a start. There was the click of a key in the lock of
+his front door. Bruce Wright burst into the room.
+
+The boy shut the door quickly and locked it. He was rather pale and
+seemed perturbed. On seeing Robin he jerked his head in the direction of
+the courtyard.
+
+"I suppose you know they're still outside?" he said.
+
+Robin nodded nonchalantly.
+
+"There are three of them now," the boy went on. "Robin, I don't like it.
+Something's going to happen. You'll want to mind yourself ... if it's
+not too late already!"
+
+He stepped across to the window and bending down, peered cautiously
+round the curtain.
+
+Robin Greve laughed.
+
+"Bah!" he said, "they can't touch me!"
+
+"You're wrong," Bruce retorted without changing his position. "They can
+and they will. Don't think Manderton is a fool, Robin. He means
+mischief ..."
+
+Robin raised his eyebrows.
+
+"Does he?" he said. "Now I wonder who told you that ..."
+
+"Friends of yours at Harkings asked me to warn you ..." began Bruce
+awkwardly.
+
+"My friends are scarcely in the majority there," retorted Robin. "Whom
+do you mean exactly?"
+
+But the boy ignored the question.
+
+"Three men watching the house!" he exclaimed; "don't you think that
+_this_ looks as though Manderton meant business?"
+
+He returned to his post of observation at the curtain.
+
+Robin laughed cynically.
+
+"Manderton doesn't worry me any," he said cheerfully. "The man's the
+victim of an _id�e fixe_. He believes Parrish killed himself just as
+firmly as he believes that I frightened or bullied Parrish into doing
+it ..."
+
+"Don't be too sure about that, Robin," said the boy, dropping the
+curtain and coming back to Robin's chair. "He may want you to think
+that. But how can we tell how much he knows?"
+
+Robin flicked the ash off his cigarette disdainfully.
+
+"These promoted policemen make me tired," he said.
+
+Bruce Wright shook his head quickly with a little gesture of
+exasperation.
+
+"You don't understand," he said. "There's fresh evidence ..."
+
+Robin Greve looked up with real interest in his eyes. His bantering
+manner had vanished.
+
+"You've got that letter?" he asked eagerly.
+
+Bruce shook his head.
+
+"No, not that," he said. Then leaning forward he added in a low voice:
+
+"Have you ever heard of the Maxim silencer?"
+
+"I believe I have, vaguely," replied Robin. "Isn't it something to do
+with a motor engine?"
+
+"No," said Bruce. "It's an extraordinary invention which absolutely
+suppresses the noise of the discharge of a gun."
+
+Robin shot a quick glance at the speaker.
+
+"Go on," he said.
+
+"It's a marvelous thing, really," the boy continued, warming to his
+theme. "A man at Havre had one when I was at the base there, during the
+war. It's a little cup-shaped steel fitting that goes over the barrel.
+You can fire a rifle fitted with one of these silencers in a small room
+and it makes no more noise than a fairly loud sneeze ..."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+Robin was listening intently now.
+
+"Parrish had a Maxim silencer," Bruce went on impressively.
+
+"_Parrish_ had?"
+
+"It was fitted on his automatic pistol, the one he had in his hand when
+they found him ..."
+
+"There was no attachment of any kind on the gun Parrish was holding when
+he was discovered yesterday afternoon," declared Robin positively; "I
+can vouch for that. I was there almost immediately after they found him.
+And if there had been anything of the kind Horace Trevert would
+certainly have mentioned it ..."
+
+"I know. Jay, who came in soon after you, was surprised to see that the
+silencer was not on the pistol. And he made a point of looking for it ..."
+
+"But how do you know that Parrish had it on the pistol?..."
+
+"Well, we don't know for certain. But we do know that it was permanently
+fitted to his automatic. Jay has often seen it. And if Parrish did
+remove it, he didn't leave it lying around any where. Jay has looked
+all through his things without finding it ..."
+
+"When did Jay see it last?"
+
+"On Thursday!"
+
+"But are you sure that this is the same pistol as the one which Jay has
+been in the habit of seeing?"
+
+"Jay is absolutely sure. He says that Parrish only had the one automatic
+which he always kept in the same drawer in his dressing-room ..."
+
+Robin was silent for a moment. Very deliberately he filled his pipe, lit
+it, and drew until it burned comfortably. Then he said slowly:
+
+"This means that Hartley Parrish was murdered, Bruce, old man. All
+through I have been puzzling my mind to reconcile the unquestionable
+circumstance that two bullets were fired--I told you of the bullet mark
+I found on the upright in the rosery--with the undoubted fact that only
+one report was heard. We can therefore presume, either that Hartley
+Parrish first fired one shot from his pistol with the silencer fitted
+and then removed the silencer and fired another shot without it, thereby
+killing himself, or that the second shot was fired by the person whose
+interest it was to get rid of the silencer. There is no possible or
+plausible reason why Parrish should have fired first one shot with the
+silencer and then one without. Therefore, I find myself irresistibly
+compelled to the conclusion that the shot heard by Mary Trevert was
+fired by the person who killed Parrish. Do I make myself clear?"
+
+"Perfectly," answered Bruce.
+
+"Now, then," the barrister proceeded, thoughtfully puffing at his pipe,
+"one weak point about my deductions is that they all hang on the
+question as to whether, at the time of the tragedy, Parrish actually had
+the silencer on his pistol or not. That is really the acid test of
+Manderton's suicide theory. You said, I think, that a rifle fired with
+the silencer attachment makes no more noise than the sound of a loud
+sneeze!"
+
+"That's right," agreed Bruce; "a sort of harsh, spluttering noise. Not
+so loud either, Robin. Ph ... t-t-t! Like that!"
+
+"Loud enough to be heard through a door, would you say?"
+
+"Oh, I think so!"
+
+Robin thought intently for a moment.
+
+"Then Mary is the only one who can put us right on that point. Assuming
+that two shots were fired--and that bullet mark in the rosery is, I
+think, conclusive on that head--and knowing that she heard the loud
+report of the one, presumably, if Parrish had the silencer on his
+automatic, Mary must have heard the _muffled_ report of the other. What
+it comes to is this, Mary heard the shot fired that killed Parrish. Did
+she hear the shot he fired at his murderer?"
+
+"By Gad!" exclaimed Bruce Wright impressively, "I believe you've got it,
+Robin! Parrish fired at somebody at the window--a silent shot--and the
+other fellow fired back the shot that Mary Trevert heard, the shot that
+killed Parrish. Isn't that the way you figure it out?"
+
+"Not so fast, young man," remarked Robin. "Let's first find out whether
+Mary actually heard the muffled shot and, if so, _when ... before_ or
+_after_ the loud report."
+
+He glanced across at the window and then at Bruce,
+
+"I suppose this discovery about the silencer is responsible for the
+deputation waiting in the courtyard," he said drily.
+
+"The police don't know about it yet," replied Bruce; "at least they
+didn't when I left."
+
+Robin shook his head dubiously.
+
+"If the servants know it, Manderton will worm it out of them. Hasn't he
+cross-examined Jay?"
+
+"Yes," said Bruce. "But he got nothing out of him about this. Manderton
+seems to have put everybody's back up. He gets nothing out of the
+servants ..."
+
+"If Parrish had had this silencer for some time, you may be sure that
+other people know about it. These silencers must be pretty rare in
+England. You see, an average person like myself didn't know what it was.
+By the way, another point which we haven't yet cleared up is this:
+supposing we are right in believing Parrish to have been murdered, how
+do you explain the fact that the bullet removed from his body fitted his
+pistol?"
+
+"That's a puzzler, I must say!" said Bruce.
+
+"There's only one possible explanation, I think," Robin went on, "and
+that is that Parrish was shot by a pistol of exactly the same calibre as
+his own. For the murderer to have killed Parrish with his own weapon
+would have been difficult without a struggle. But Miss Trevert heard no
+struggle. For murderer and his victim to have pistols of the same
+calibre argues a rather remarkable coincidence, I grant you. But then
+life is full of coincidences! We meet them every day in the law. Though,
+I admit, this is a coincidence which requires some explaining ..."
+
+He fell into a brown study which Bruce interrupted by suddenly
+remembering that he had had no lunch.
+
+For answer Robin pointed at the sideboard.
+
+"There's a cloth in there," he said, "also the whisky, if my laundress
+has left any, and a siphon and there should be some claret--Mrs. Bragg
+doesn't care about red wine. Set the table, and I'll take a root round
+in the kitchen and dig up some tinned stuff."
+
+They supped off a tinned tongue and some _p�t� de foie gras_. Over their
+meal Bruce told Robin of his adventure in the library at Harkings.
+
+"Jeekes must have collected that letter," Bruce said. "Before I came to
+you, I went to Lincoln's Inn Fields to see if he was still at
+Bardy's--Parrish's solicitor, you know. But the office was closed, and
+the place in darkness. I went on to the Junior Pantheon, that's Jeekes's
+club, but he wasn't in. He hadn't been there all day, the porter told me.
+So I left a note asking him to ring you up here ..."
+
+"The case reeks of blackmail," said Robin thoughtfully, "but I am
+wondering how much we shall glean from this precious letter when we do
+see it. I am glad you asked Jeekes to ring me up, though. He should be
+able to tell us something about these mysterious letters on the blue
+paper that used to put Parrish in such a stew ... Hullo, who can that
+be?"
+
+An electric bell trilled through the flat. It rang once ... twice ...
+and then a third time, a long, insistent peal.
+
+"See who's there, will you, Bruce?" said Robin.
+
+"Suppose it's the police ..." began the boy.
+
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You can say I'm at home and ask them in," he said.
+
+He heard the heavy oaken door swing open, a murmur of voices in the
+hall. The next moment Detective-Inspector Manderton entered the
+sitting-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+MR. MANDERTON LAYS HIS CARDS ON THE TABLE
+
+
+The detective's manner had undergone some subtle change which Robin,
+watching him closely as he came into the room, was quick to note. Mr.
+Manderton made an effort to retain his old air of rather patronizing
+swagger; but he seemed less sure of himself than was his wont. In fact,
+he appeared to be a little anxious.
+
+He walked briskly into the sitting-room and looked quickly from Bruce to
+Robin.
+
+"Mr. Greve," he said, "you can help me if you will by answering a few
+questions ..."
+
+With another glance at Bruce Wright he added:
+
+"... in private."
+
+Bruce, obedient to a sign from Robin, said he would ring up in the
+morning and prepared to take his leave. Robin turned to the detective.
+
+"There are some of your men, I believe," he said coldly, "watching this
+house. Would it be asking too much to request that my friend here might
+be permitted to return home unescorted?"
+
+"He needn't worry," replied Manderton with a significant smile.
+"There's no one outside now!..."
+
+They watched Bruce Wright pass into the hall and collect his hat and
+coat. As the front door slammed behind him, the detective added:
+
+"I took 'em off myself soon after seven o'clock!"
+
+"Why?" asked Robin bluntly.
+
+Mr. Manderton dropped his heavy form into a chair.
+
+"I'm a plain man, Mr. Greve," he said, "and I'm not above owning to it,
+I hope, when I'm wrong. For some little time now it has struck me that
+our lines of investigation run parallel ..."
+
+"Instead of crossing!"
+
+"Instead of crossing--exactly!"
+
+"It's a pity you did not grasp that very obvious fact earlier," observed
+Robin pointedly.
+
+Mr. Manderton crossed one leg over the other and, his finger-tips
+pressed together, looked at Robin.
+
+"Will you help me?" he asked simply.
+
+"Do you want my help?"
+
+Mr. Manderton nodded.
+
+"Allies, then?"
+
+"Allies it is!"
+
+Robin pointed to the table.
+
+"It's dry work talking," he said. "Won't you take a drink?"
+
+"Thanks, I don't drink. But I'll have a cigar if I may. Thank you!"
+
+The detective helped himself to a cheroot from a box on the table and
+lit up. Then, affecting to scan the end of his cigar with great
+attention, he asked abruptly:
+
+"What do you know of the woman calling herself Madame de Malpas?"
+
+Robin pursed up his lips rather disdainfully.
+
+"One of the late Mr. Parrish's lady friends," he replied. "I expect you
+know that!"
+
+"Do you know where she lives?" pursued the detective, ignoring the
+implied question.
+
+"She's dead."
+
+A flicker of interest appeared for an instant in Mr. Manderton's keen
+eyes.
+
+"You're sure of that?"
+
+"Certainly," answered Robin.
+
+"Who told you?"
+
+"Le Hagen--the solicitor, you know. He acted for this Malpas woman on
+one or two occasions."
+
+"When did she die?"
+
+"Six or seven months ago ..."
+
+"Did Jeekes know about it?"
+
+"Jeekes? Do you mean Parrish's secretary?
+
+"It's funny your asking that. As a matter of fact, it was through Jeekes
+that I heard the lady was dead. I was in Le Hagen's office one day when
+Jeekes came in, and Le Hagen told me Jeekes had come to pay in a cheque
+for the cost of the funeral and the transport of the body to France."
+
+"This was six or seven months ago, you say? I take it, then, that any
+allowance that Parrish was in the habit of making to this woman has
+ceased?"
+
+"I tell you the lady is dead!"
+
+"Then what would you say if I informed you that Mr. Jeekes had declared
+that these payments were still going on ..."
+
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I should say he was lying ..."
+
+"I agree. But why?"
+
+"Whom did he tell this to?"
+
+"Miss Trevert!"
+
+"Miss Trevert?"
+
+Robin repeated the name in amazement.
+
+"I don't understand," he said. "Why on earth should Jeekes blacken his
+employer's character to Miss Trevert? What conceivable motive could he
+have had? Did she tell you this?"
+
+"No," said Manderton; "I heard him tell her myself."
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," protested Robin, growing more and more
+puzzled, "that Jeekes told Miss Trevert this offensive and deliberate
+lie in your presence!"
+
+"Well," remarked Mr. Manderton slowly, "I don't know about his saying
+this in my presence exactly. But I heard him tell her for all that.
+Walls have ears, you know--particularly if the door is ajar!"
+
+He looked shrewdly at Robin, then dropped his eyes to the floor.
+
+"He also told her that Le Hagen and you were in business relations ..."
+
+Robin sat up at this.
+
+"Ah!" he said shortly. "I see what you're getting at now. Our friend has
+been trying to set Miss Trevert against me, eh? But why? I don't even
+know this man Jeekes except to have nodded 'Good-morning' to him a few
+times. Why on earth should he of all men go out of his way to slander me
+to Miss Trevert, to throw suspicion ..."
+
+He broke off short and looked at the detective.
+
+Mr. Manderton caressed his big black moustache.
+
+"Yes," he repeated suavely, "you were saying 'to cast suspicion' ..."
+
+The eyes of the two men met. Then the detective leaned back in his
+chair and, blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips, said:
+
+"Mr. Greve, you've been thinking ahead of me on this case. What you've
+told me so far I've checked. And you're right. Dead right. And since
+you're, in a manner of speaking, one of the parties interested in
+getting things cleared up, I'd like you to tell me just simply what idea
+you've formed about it ..."
+
+"Gladly," answered the barrister. "And to start with let me tell you
+that the case stinks of blackmail ..."
+
+"Steady on," interposed the detective. "I thought so, too, at first.
+I've been into all that. Mr. Parrish made a clean break with the last of
+his lady friends about two months since; and, as far as our
+investigations go, there has been no blackmail in connection with any of
+his women pals. Vine Street knows all about Master Parrish. There were
+complaints about some of his little parties up in town. But I don't
+believe there's a woman in this case ..."
+
+"I didn't say there was," retorted Robin. "The blackmail is probably
+being levied from Holland. A threat of violence was finally carried into
+effect on Saturday evening between 5 and 5.15 P.M. by some one
+conversant with the lie of the land at Harkings. This individual, armed
+with an automatic Browning of the same calibre as Mr. Parrish's, shot
+at Parrish through the open window of the library and killed
+him--probably in self-defence, after Parrish had had a shot at him ..."
+
+"Steady there, whoa!" said Mr. Manderton in a jocular way clearly
+expressive of his incredulity; "there was only one shot ..."
+
+"There were _two_," was Robin's dispassionate reply. "Though maybe only
+one was heard. Parrish had a Maxim silencer on his gun ..."
+
+Mr. Manderton was now thoroughly alert.
+
+"How did you find that out?" he asked.
+
+"Jay, Parrish's man, came forward and volunteered this evidence ..."
+
+"He said nothing about it when I questioned him," grumbled the
+detective.
+
+Robin laughed.
+
+"You're a terror to the confirmed criminal, they tell me, Manderton," he
+said, "but you obviously don't understand that complicated mechanism
+known as the domestic servant. No servant at Harkings will voluntarily
+tell _you_ anything ..."
+
+Mr. Manderton, who had stood up, shook his big frame impatiently.
+
+"Explain the rest of your theories," he said harshly. "What's all this
+about blackmail being levied from Holland?"
+
+Then Robin Greve told him of the letters written on the slatey-blue
+paper and of their effect upon Parrish, and of the letter headed, "Elias
+van der Spyck & Co., General Importers, Rotterdam," which had lain on
+the desk in the library when Parrish's dead body had been found.
+
+Manderton nodded gloomily.
+
+"It was there right enough," he remarked. "I saw it. A letter about
+steel shipments and the dockers' strike, wasn't it? As there seemed
+nothing to it, I left it with the other papers for Jeekes, the secretary
+chap. But what evidence is there that this was blackmail?"
+
+"This," said Robin, and showed the detective the sheet of blue paper
+with its series of slits. "Manderton," he said, "these letters written
+on this blue paper were in code, I feel sure. Why should not this be the
+key? You see it bears a date--'Nov. 25.' May it not refer to that
+letter? I found it by Parrish's body on the carpet in the library. I
+would have given it to you at Harkings, but I shoved it in my pocket and
+forgot all about it until I was in the train coming up to town this
+morning."
+
+Mr. Manderton took the sheet of paper, turned it over, and held it up to
+the light. Then, without comment, he put it away in the pocket of his
+jacket.
+
+"If Parrish killed himself," Robin went on earnestly, "that letter drove
+him to it. If, on the other hand, he was murdered, may not that letter
+have contained a warning?"
+
+"I should prefer to suspend judgment until we've seen the letter, Mr.
+Greve," said the detective bluntly. "We must get it from Jeekes. In the
+meantime, what makes you think that the murderer (to follow up your
+theory) was conversant with the lay of the land at Harkings?"
+
+"Because," answered Robin, "the murderer left no tracks on the grass or
+flower-beds. He stuck to the hard gravel path throughout. That path,
+which runs from the drive through the rosery to the gravel path round
+the house just under the library window, is precious hard to find in the
+dark, especially where it leaves the drive, as at the outset it is a
+mere thread between the rhododendron bushes. And, as I know from
+experience, unless you are acquainted with the turns in the path, it is
+very easy to get off it in the dark, especially in the rosery, and go
+blundering on to the flower-beds. And I'll tell you something else about
+the murderer. He--or she--was of small stature--not much above five
+foot six in height. The upward diagonal course of the bullet through
+Parrish's heart shows that ..."
+
+Mr. Manderton shook his head dubiously.
+
+"Very ingenious," he commented. "But you go rather fast, Mr. Greve. We
+must test your theory link by link. There may be an explanation for
+Jeekes's apparently inexplicable lie to the young lady. Let's see him
+and hear what he says. The grounds at Harkings must be searched for this
+second bullet, if second bullet there is, the mark on the tree examined
+by an expert. And since two bullets argue two pistols in this case, let
+us see what result we get from our enquiries as to where Mr. Parrish
+bought his pistol. He may have had two pistols ..."
+
+"If Parrish used a silencer," remarked Robin, quite undisconcerted by
+the other's lack of enthusiasm, "and my theory that two shots were fired
+is correct, there must have been two reports, a loud one and a muffled
+one. Miss Trevert heard one report, as we know. Did she hear a second?"
+
+"She said nothing about it," remarked the detective.
+
+"She was probably asked nothing about it. But we can get this point
+cleared up at once. There's the telephone. Ring up Harkings and ask her
+now."
+
+"Why not?" said Mr. Manderton and moved to the telephone.
+
+There is little delay on the long-distance lines on a Sunday evening,
+and the call to Harkins came through almost at once. Bude answered the
+telephone at Harkings. Manderton asked for Miss Trevert. The butler
+replied that Miss Trevert was no longer at Harkings. She had gone to the
+Continent for a few days.
+
+This plain statement, retailed in the fortissimo voice which Bude
+reserved for use on the telephone, produced a remarkable effect on the
+detective. He grew red in the face.
+
+"What's that?" he cried assertively. "Gone to the Continent? I should
+have been told about this. Why wasn't I informed? What part of the
+Continent has she gone to?"
+
+Mr. Manderton's questions, rapped out with a rasping vigour that
+recalled a machine-gun firing, brought Robin to his feet in an instant.
+He crossed over to the desk on which the telephone stood.
+
+Manderton placed one big palm over the transmitter and turned to Robin.
+
+"She's gone to the Continent and left no address," he said quickly.
+
+"Ask him if Lady Margaret is there," suggested Robin.
+
+Mr. Manderton spoke into the telephone again. Lady Margaret had gone to
+bed, Bude answered, and her ladyship was much put out by Miss Trevert
+gallivanting off like that by herself with only a scribbled note left to
+say that she had gone.
+
+Had Bude got the note?
+
+No, Mr. Manderton, sir, he had not. But Lady Margaret had shown it to
+him. It had simply stated that Miss Trevert had gone off to the
+Continent and would be back in a few days.
+
+Again the detective turned to Robin at his elbow.
+
+"These country bumpkins!" he said savagely. "I must go to the Yard and
+get Humphries on the 'phone. He may have telegraphed me about it. You
+stay here and I'll ring you later if there's any news. What do you make
+of it, Mr. Greve?"
+
+"It beats me," was Robin's rueful comment. "And what about the inquest?
+It's for Tuesday, isn't it? Miss Trevert will have to give evidence, I
+take it?..."
+
+"Oh," said Mr. Manderton, picking up his hat and speaking in an offhand
+way, "I'm getting _that_ adjourned for a week!"
+
+"The inquest adjourned! Why?"
+
+There was a twinkle in the detective's eye as he replied.
+
+"I thought, maybe, I might get further evidence ..."
+
+Robin caught the expression and smiled.
+
+"And when did you come to this decision, may I ask?"
+
+"After our little experiment in the garden this morning," was the
+detective's prompt reply.
+
+Robin looked at him fixedly.
+
+"But, see here," he said, "apparently it was to the deductions you
+formed from the result of that experiment that I owe the attentions of
+your colleagues who have been hanging round the house all day. And yet
+you now come to me and invite my assistance. Mr. Manderton, I don't get
+it at all!"
+
+"Mr. Greve," replied the detective, "Miss Trevert tried to shield you.
+That made me suspicious. You tried to force my investigations into an
+entirely new path. That deepened my suspicions. I believed it to be my
+duty to ascertain your movements after leaving Harkings. But then I
+heard Jeekes make an apparently gratuitously false statement to Miss
+Trevert with an implication against you. That, to some extent, cleared
+you in my eyes. I say 'to some extent' because I will not deny that I
+thought I might be taking a risk in coming to you like this. You see I
+am frank!..."
+
+The smile had left Greve's face and he looked rather grim.
+
+"You're pretty deep, aren't you?" was his brief comment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE CODE KING
+
+
+Major Euan MacTavish was packing. A heavy and well-worn leather
+portmanteau, much adorned with foreign luggage labels, stood in the
+centre of the floor. From a litter of objects piled up on a side table
+the Major was transferring to it various brown-paper packages which he
+checked by a list in his hand.
+
+The Major always packed for himself. He packed with the neatness and
+rapidity derived from long experience of travel. As a matter of fact, he
+could not afford a manservant any more than he could allow himself
+quarters more luxurious than the rather grimy bedroom in Bury Street
+which housed him during his transient appearances in town. The
+remuneration doled out by the Foreign Office to the quiet and
+unobtrusive gentlemen known as King's messengers is, in point of fact,
+out of all proportion to the prestige and glamour surrounding the silver
+greyhound badge, an example of which was tucked away in a pocket of the
+Major's blue serge jacket hanging over the back of a chair.
+
+"Let's see," said the Major, addressing a large brown-paper covered
+package standing in the corner of the room, "you're the bird-cage for
+Lady Sylvia at The Hague. Two pounds of candles for Mrs. Harry Deepdale
+at Berlin; the razor blades for Sir Archibald at Prague; the Teddy bear
+for Marjorie; polo-balls for the Hussars at Constantinople--there! I
+think that's the lot! Hullo, hullo, who the devil's that?"
+
+With a groaning of wires a jangling bell tinkled through the hall (the
+Major's bedroom was on the ground floor). Sims, the aged ex-butler, who,
+with his wife, "did for" his lodgers in more ways than one, was out and
+the single servant-maid had her Sunday off. Euan MacTavish glanced at
+his wrist watch. It showed the hour to be ten minutes past nine. A
+flowered silk smoking-coat over his evening clothes and a briar pipe in
+his mouth, he went out into the hall and opened the front door.
+
+It was a drenching night. The lamps from a taxi which throbbed dully in
+the street outside the house threw a gleaming band of light on the
+shining pavement. At the door stood a taxi-driver.
+
+"There's a lady asking for Major MacTavish," he said, pointing at the
+cab. The Major stepped across to the cab and opened the door.
+
+"Oh, Euan," said a girl's voice, "how lucky I am to catch you!"
+
+"Why, Mary," exclaimed the Major, "what on earth brings you round to me
+on a night like this? I only came up from the country this afternoon and
+I'm off for Constantinople in the morning!"
+
+"Euan," said Mary Trevert, "I want to talk to you. Where can we talk?"
+
+The Major raised his eyebrows. He was a little man with grizzled hair
+and finely cut, rather sharp features.
+
+"Well," he remarked, "there's not a soul in the house, and I've only got
+a bedroom here. Though we're cousins, Mary, my dear, I don't know that
+you ought to...."
+
+"You're a silly old-fashioned old dear," exclaimed the girl, "and I'm
+coming in. No, I'll keep the cab. We shall want it!"
+
+"All right," said the Major, helping her to alight. "I tell you what.
+We'll go into Harry Prankhurst's sitting-room. He's away for the
+week-end, anyway!"
+
+He took Mary Trevert into a room off the hall and switched on the
+electric light. Then for the first time he saw how pale she looked.
+
+"My dear," he said, "I know what an awful shock you've had...."
+
+"You've heard about it?"
+
+"I saw it in the Sunday papers. I was going to write to you."
+
+"Euan," the girl began in a nervous, hasty way, "I have to go to Holland
+at once. There is not a moment to lose. I want you to help me get my
+passport vis�ed."
+
+"But, my dear girl," exclaimed the Major, aghast, "you can't go to
+Holland like this alone. Does your mother know about it?"
+
+The girl shook her head.
+
+"It's no good trying to stop me, Euan," she declared. "I mean to go,
+anyway. As a matter of fact, Mother doesn't know. I merely left word
+that I had gone to the Continent for a few days. Nobody knows about
+Holland except you. And if you won't help me I suppose I shall have to
+go to Harry Tadworth at the Foreign Office. I came to you first because
+he's always so stuffy ..."
+
+Euan MacTavish pushed the girl into a chair and gave her a cigarette. He
+lit it for her and took one himself. His pipe had vanished into his
+pocket.
+
+"Of course, I'll help you," he said. "Now, tell me all about it!"
+
+"Before ... this happened I had promised Hartley Parrish to marry him,"
+began the girl. "The doctors say his nerves were wrong. I don't believe
+a word of it. He was full of the joy of life. He was very fond of me. He
+was always talking of what we should do when we were married. He never
+would have killed himself without some tremendously powerful motive.
+Even then I can't believe it possible ..."
+
+She made a little nervous gesture.
+
+"After he ... did it," she went on, "I found this letter on his desk. It
+came to him from Holland. I mean to see the people who wrote it and
+discover if they can throw any light on ... on ... the affair ..."
+
+She had taken from her muff a letter, folded in four, written on paper
+of a curious dark slatey-blue colour.
+
+"Won't you show me the letter?"
+
+"You promise to say nothing about it to any one?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Of course."
+
+Without a word the girl gave him the letter. With slow deliberation he
+unfolded it. The letter was typewritten and headed: "Elias van der Spyck
+& Co. General Importers, Rotterdam."
+
+This was the letter:
+
+  ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+  GENERAL IMPORTERS
+  ROTTERDAM Rotterdam 25th Nov.
+
+  _Codes_
+  A.B.C.
+  Liebler's
+
+  _Personal_
+  Dear Mr. Parrish,
+
+  Your favor of even date to hand and contents
+  noted. The last delivery of steel was to time but we have had
+  warning from the railway authorities that labour troubles at the
+  docks are likely to delay future consignments. If you don't
+  mind we should prefer to settle the question of future
+  delivery by Nov. 27 as we have a board meeting on the 30th
+  inst. While we fully appreciate your own difficulties with
+  labour at home, you will understand that this is a question
+  which we cannot afford to adjourn _sine die_.
+
+  Yours faithfully,
+  pro ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+
+The signature was illegible.
+
+Euan MacTavish folded the letter again and handed it back to Mary.
+
+"That doesn't take me any farther," he said. "What do the police think
+of it?"
+
+"They haven't seen it," was the girl's reply. "I took it without them
+knowing. I mean to make my own investigations about this ..."
+
+"But, my dear Mary," exclaimed the little Major in a shocked voice, "you
+can't do things that way! Don't you see you may be hindering the course
+of justice? The police may attach the greatest importance to this
+letter ..."
+
+"You're quite right," retorted the girl, "they do!"
+
+"Then why have you kept it from them?"
+
+Mary Trevert dropped her eyes and a little band of crimson flushed into
+her cheeks.
+
+"Because," she commenced, "because ... well, because they are trying to
+implicate a friend of mine ..."
+
+The Major took the girl's hand.
+
+"Mary," he said, "I've known you all your life. I've knocked about a
+good bit and know something of the world, I believe. Suppose you tell me
+all about it ..."
+
+Mary Trevert hesitated. Then she said, her hands nervously toying with
+her muff:
+
+"We believe that Robin Greve--you know whom I mean--had a conversation
+with Hartley just before he ... he shot himself. That very afternoon
+Robin had asked me to marry him, but I told him about my engagement. He
+said some awful things about Hartley and rushed away. Ten minutes later
+Hartley Parrish committed suicide. And there _was_ some one talking to
+him in the library. Bude, the butler, heard the voices. This afternoon I
+went down to the library alone ... to see if I could discover anything
+likely to throw any light on poor Hartley's death. This was the only
+letter I could find. It was tucked away between two letter-trays. One
+tray fitted into the other, and this letter had slipped between. It
+seems to have been overlooked both by Mr. Parrish's secretary and the
+police ..."
+
+"But I confess," argued the Major, "that I don't see how this letter,
+which appears to be a very ordinary business communication, implicates
+anybody at all. Why shouldn't the police see it?..."
+
+"Because," said Mary, "directly after discovering it I found Bruce
+Wright, who used to be one of Mr. Parrish's private secretaries, hiding
+behind the curtains in the library. Now, Bruce Wright is a great friend
+of Robin Greve's, and I immediately suspected that Robin had sent him
+to Harkings, particularly as ..."
+
+"As what?..."
+
+"As he practically admitted to me, that he had come for a letter written
+on slatey-blue official-looking paper."
+
+The girl held up the letter from Rotterdam.
+
+"All this," the girl continued, "made me think that this letter must
+have had something to do with Hartley's death ..."
+
+"Surely an additional reason for giving it to the police!..."
+
+Mary Trevert set her mouth in an obstinate line.
+
+"No!" she affirmed uncompromisingly. "The police believe that, as the
+result of a scene between Hartley and Robin, Hartley killed himself.
+Until I've found out for certain whether this letter implicates Robin or
+not, I sha'n't give it to the police ..."
+
+"But, if Greve really had nothing to do with this shocking tragedy, the
+police can very easily clear him. Surely they are the best judges of his
+guilt ..."
+
+Again a touch of warm colour suffused the girl's cheeks. Euan MacTavish
+remarked it and looked at her wistfully.
+
+"Well, well," he observed gently, "perhaps they're not, after all!"
+
+The girl looked up at him.
+
+"Euan, dear," she said impulsively, "I knew you'd understand. Robin and
+Hartley may have had a row, but it was nothing worse. Robin is incapable
+of having threatened--blackmailed--Hartley, as the police seem to
+imagine. I am greatly upset by it all; I can't see things clear at all;
+but I'm determined not to give the police a weapon like this to use
+against Robin until I know whether it is sharp or blunt, until I have
+found out what bearing, if any, this letter had on Hartley Parrish's
+death ..."
+
+Euan MacTavish leant back in his chair and said nothing. He finished his
+cigarette, pitched the butt into the fender, and turned to Mary. He
+asked her to let him see the letter again. Once more he read it over.
+Then, handing it back to her, he said:
+
+"It's all so simple-looking that there may well be something behind it.
+But, if you do go to Holland, how are you going to set about your
+enquiries?"
+
+"That's where you can help me, Euan, dear," answered the girl. "I want
+to find somebody at Rotterdam who will help me to make some confidential
+enquiries about this firm. Do you know any one? An Englishman would be
+best, of course ..."
+
+But Euan MacTavish was halfway to the door.
+
+"Wait there," he commanded, "till I telephone the one man in the world
+who can help us."
+
+He vanished into the hall where Mary heard him at the instrument.
+
+"We are going round to the Albany," he said, "to see my friend, Ernest
+Dulkinghorn, of the War Office. He can help us if any one can. But,
+Mary, you must promise me one thing before we go ... you must agree to
+do what old Ernest tells you. You needn't be afraid. He is the most
+unconventional of men, capable of even approving this madcap scheme of
+yours!"
+
+"I agree," said Mary, "but how you waste time, Euan! We could have been
+at the Albany by this time!"
+
+In a first-floor oak-panelled suite at the Albany, overlooking the
+covered walk that runs from Piccadilly to Burlington Gardens, they found
+an excessively fair, loose-limbed man whose air of rather helpless
+timidity was heightened by a pair of large tortoise-shell spectacles. He
+appeared excessively embarrassed at the sight of MacTavish's extremely
+good-looking companion.
+
+"You never told me you were bringing a lady, Euan," he said
+reproachfully, "or I should have attempted to have made myself more
+presentable."
+
+He looked down at his old flannel suit and made an apologetic gesture
+which took in the table littered with books and papers and the sofa on
+which lay a number of heavy tomes with marked slips sticking out between
+the pages.
+
+"I am working at a code," he explained.
+
+"Ernest here," said MacTavish, turning to Mary, "is the code king. Your
+pals in the Intelligence tell me, Ernest, that you've never been beaten
+by a code ..."
+
+The fair man laughed nervously.
+
+"They've been pullin' your leg, Euan," he said.
+
+"Don't you believe him, Mary," retorted her cousin. "This is the man who
+probably did more than any one man to beat the Boche. Whenever the
+brother Hun changed his code, Brother Ernest was called in and he
+produced a key in one, two, three!..."
+
+"What rot you talk, Euan!" said Dulkinghorn. "Working out a code is a
+combination of mathematics, perseverance, and inspiration with a good
+slice of luck thrown in! But isn't Miss Trevert going to sit down?"
+
+He cleared the sofa with a sweep of his arm which sent the books flying
+on to the floor.
+
+"Ernest," said MacTavish, "I want you to give Miss Trevert here a
+letter to some reliable fellow in Rotterdam who can assist her in making
+a few enquiries of a very delicate nature!"
+
+"What sort of enquiries?" asked Dulkinghorn bluntly.
+
+"About a firm called Elias van der Spyck," replied Euan.
+
+"Of Rotterdam?" enquired the other sharply.
+
+"That's right! Do you know them?"
+
+"I've heard the name. They do a big business. But hadn't Miss Trevert
+better tell her story herself?"
+
+Mary told him of the death of Hartley Parrish and of the letter she had
+found upon his desk. She said nothing of the part played by Robin Greve.
+
+"Hmph!" said Dulkinghorn. "You think it might be blackmail, eh? Well,
+well, it might be. Have you got this letter about you? Hand it over and
+let's have a look at it."
+
+His nervous manner had vanished. His face seemed to take on a much
+keener expression. He took the letter from Mary and read it through.
+Then he crossed the room to a wall cupboard which he unlocked with a key
+on a chain, produced a small tray on which stood a number of small
+bottles, some paint-brushes and pens, and several little open dishes
+such as are used for developing photographs. He bore the tray to the
+table, cleared a space on a corner by knocking a pile of books and
+papers on the floor, and set it down.
+
+"Just poke the fire!" he said to Euan.
+
+From a drawer in the table he produced a board on which he pinned down
+the letter with a drawing-pin at each corner. Then he dipped a
+paint-brush into one of the bottles and carefully painted the whole
+surface of the sheet with some invisible fluid.
+
+"So!" he said, "we'll leave that to dry and see if we can find out any
+little secrets, eh? That little tray'll do the trick if there's any
+monkey business to this letter of yours, Miss Trevert. That'll do the
+trick, eh, what?"
+
+He paced the room as he talked, not waiting for an answer, but running
+on as though he were soliloquizing. Presently he turned and swooped down
+on the board.
+
+"Nothing," he ejaculated. "Now for the acids!"
+
+With a little piece of sponge he carefully wiped the surface of the
+letter and painted it again with a substance from another bottle.
+
+"Just hold that to the fire, would you, Euan?" he said, and gave
+MacTavish the board. He resumed his pacing, but this time he hummed in
+the most unmelodious voice imaginable:
+
+  She was bright as a butterfly, as fair as a queen,
+  Was pretty little Polly Perkins, of Paddington Green.
+
+"It's dry!"
+
+MacTavish's voice broke in upon the pacing and the discordant song.
+
+"Well?"
+
+Dulkinghorn snapped out the question.
+
+"No result!" said Euan. He handed him the board.
+
+Dulkinghorn cast a glance at it, swiftly removed the letter, held it for
+an instant up to the electric light, fingered the paper for a moment,
+and handed the letter back to Mary.
+
+"If it's code," he said, "it's a conventional code and that always beats
+the expert ... at first. Go to Rotterdam and call on my friend, Mr.
+William Schulz. I'll give you a letter for him and he'll place himself
+entirely at your disposition. Euan will take you over. Holland is on
+your beat, ain't it, Euan? When do you go next?"
+
+"To-morrow," said the King's Messenger. "The boat train leaves Liverpool
+Street at ten o'clock."
+
+"You'll want a passport," said Dulkinghorn, turning to the girl.
+"You've got it there? Good. Leave it with me. You shall have it back
+properly vis�ed by nine o'clock to-morrow morning. Where are you
+stayin'? Almond's Hotel. Good. I'll send the letter for Mr. William
+Schulz with it!"
+
+"But," Euan interjected mildly, after making several ineffectual efforts
+to stem the torrent of speech, "do you really think that Miss Trevert
+will be well advised to risk this trip to Holland alone? Hadn't the
+police better take the matter in hand?"
+
+"Police be damned!" replied Dulkinghorn heartily. "Miss Trevert will be
+better than a dozen heavy-handed, heavy-footed plain-clothes men. When
+you get to Rotterdam, Miss Trevert, you trot along and call on William
+Schulz. He'll see you through."
+
+Then, to indicate without any possibility of misunderstanding, that his
+work had been interrupted long enough, Dulkinghorn got up, and, opening
+the sitting-room door, led the way into the hall. As he stood with his
+hand on the latch of the front door, Mary Trevert asked him:
+
+"Is this Mr. Schulz an Englishman?"
+
+"I'll let you into a secret," answered Bulkinghorn; "he _was_. But he
+isn't now! No, no, I can't say anything more. You must work it out for
+yourself. But I will give you a piece of advice. The less you say about
+Mr. William Schulz and about your private affairs generally when you are
+on the other side, the better it will be for you! Good-night--and good
+luck!"
+
+Euan MacTavish escorted Mary to Almond's Hotel.
+
+"I'm very much afraid," he said to her as they walked along, "that
+you're butting that pretty head of yours into a wasps' nest, Mary!"
+
+"Nonsense!" retorted the girl decisively; "I can take care of myself!"
+
+"If I consent to let you go off like this," said Euan, "it is only on
+one condition ... you must tell Lady Margaret where you are going ..."
+
+"That'll spoil everything," answered Mary, pouting; "Mother will want to
+come with me!"
+
+"No, she won't," urged her cousin, "not if I tell her. She'll worry
+herself to death, Mary, if she doesn't know what has become of you.
+You'd better let me ring her up from the club and tell her you're
+running over to Rotterdam for a few days. Look here, I'll tell her
+you're going with me. She'll be perfectly happy if she thinks I'm to be
+with you ..."
+
+On that Mary surrendered.
+
+"Have it your own way," she said.
+
+"I'll pick you up here at a quarter-past nine in the morning," said Euan
+as he bade the girl good-night at her hotel, "then we'll run down to
+the F.O. and collect my bags and go on to the station!"
+
+"Euan," the girl asked as she gave him her hand, "who is this man
+Schulz, do you think?"
+
+The King's messenger leant over and whispered:
+
+"Secret Service!"
+
+"Secret Service!"
+
+The girl repeated the words in a hushed voice.
+
+"Then Mr. Dulkinghorn ... is he ... that too?"
+
+Euan nodded shortly.
+
+"One of their leadin' lights!" he answered.
+
+"But, Euan,"--the girl was very serious now,--"what has the Secret
+Service to do with Hartley Parrish's clients in Holland?"
+
+The King's messenger laid a lean finger along his nose.
+
+"Ah!" he said, "what? That's what is beginning to interest me!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+A WORD WITH MR. JEEKES
+
+
+Life is like a kaleidoscope, that ingenious toy which was the delight of
+the Victorian nursery. Like the glass fragments in its slide, different
+in colour and shape, men's lives lie about without seeming connection;
+then Fate gives the instrument a shake, and behold! the fragments slide
+into position and form an intricate mosaic....
+
+Mark how Fate proceeded on the wet and raw Sunday evening when Bruce
+Wright, at the instance of Mr. Manderton, quitted Robin Greve's chambers
+in the Temple, leaving his friend and the detective alone together. To
+tell the truth, Bruce Wright was in no mood for facing the provincial
+gloom of a wet Sunday evening in London, nor did he find alluring the
+prospect of a suburban supper-party at the quiet house where he lived
+with his widowed mother and sisters in South Kensington. So, in an
+irresolute, unsettled frame of mind, he let himself drift down the
+Strand unable to bring himself to go home or, indeed, to form any plan.
+
+He crossed Trafalgar Square, a nocturne in yellow and black--lights
+reflected yellow in pavements shining dark with wet--and by and by
+found himself in Pall Mall. Here it was that Fate took a hand. At this
+moment it administered a preliminary jog to the kaleidoscope and brought
+the fragment labelled Bruce Wright into immediate proximity with the
+piece entitled Albert Edward Jeekes.
+
+As Bruce Wright came along Pall Mall, he saw Mr. Jeekes standing on the
+steps of his club. The little secretary appeared to be lost in thought,
+his chin thrust down on the crutch-handle of the umbrella he clutched to
+himself. So absorbed was he in his meditations that he did not observe
+Bruce Wright stop and regard him. It was not until our young man had
+touched him on the arm that he looked up with a start.
+
+"God bless my soul!" he exclaimed, "if it isn't young Wright!"
+
+Now the sight of Jeekes had put a great idea into the head of our young
+friend. He had been more chagrined than he had let it appear to Robin
+Greve at his failure to recover the missing letter from the library at
+Harkings. To obtain the letter--or, at any rate, a copy of it--from
+Jeekes and to hand it to Robin Greve would, thought Bruce, restore his
+prestige as an amateur detective, at any rate in his own eyes. Moreover,
+a chat with Jeekes over the whole affair seemed a Heaven-sent exit from
+the _impasse_ of boredom into which he had drifted this wet Sunday
+evening.
+
+"How are you, Mr. Jeekes?" said Bruce briskly. ("Mr." Jeekes was the
+form of address always accorded to the principal secretary in the
+Hartley Parrish establishment and Bruce resumed it instinctively.) "I
+was anxious to see you. I called in at the club this afternoon. Did you
+get my message?"
+
+The little secretary blinked at him through his _pince-nez_.
+
+"There have been so many messages about this shocking affair that really
+I forget ..."
+
+He sighed heavily.
+
+"Couldn't I come in and have a yarn now?"
+
+Bruce spoke cajolingly. But Mr. Jeekes wrinkled his brow fussily.
+
+There was so much to do; he had had a long day; if Wright would excuse
+him ...
+
+"As a matter of fact," explained Bruce with an eye on his man, "I wanted
+to see you particularly about a letter ..."
+
+"Some other time ... to-morrow ..."
+
+"Written on dark-blue paper ... you know, one of those letters H.P. made
+all the fuss about."
+
+Mr. Jeekes took his _pince-nez_ from his nose, gave the glasses a hasty
+rub with his pocket-handkerchief, and replaced them. He slanted a long
+narrow look at the young man.
+
+Then, "What letter do you mean?" he asked composedly.
+
+"A letter which lay on H.P.'s desk in the library at Harkings when they
+found the body ..."
+
+"There _was_ a letter there then ...?"
+
+"Haven't _you_ got it?"
+
+Jeekes shook his head.
+
+"Come inside for a minute and tell me about this," he said.
+
+He led Bruce into the vast smoking-room of the club. They took seats in
+a distant corner near the blazing fire. The room was practically
+deserted.
+
+Now, Mr. Jeekes's excessive carefulness about money had been a
+long-standing joke amongst his assistants when Bruce Wright had belonged
+to Hartley Parrish's secretarial staff. Thrift had become with him more
+than a habit. It was a positive obsession. It revealed itself in such
+petty meannesses as a perpetual cadging for matches or small change and
+a careful abstention from any offer of hospitality. Never in the whole
+course of his service had Bruce Wright heard of Mr. Jeekes taking
+anybody out to lunch or extending any of the usual hospitalities of
+life. He was not a little surprised, therefore, to hear Jeekes ask him
+what he would take.
+
+Bruce said he would take some coffee.
+
+"Have a liqueur? Have a cigar?" said Jeekes, turning to Bruce from the
+somnolent waiter who had answered the bell.
+
+There was a strange eagerness, a sort of over-done cordiality, in the
+invitation which contrasted so strongly with the secretary's habits that
+Robin felt dimly suspicious. He suddenly formed the idea that Mr. Jeekes
+wanted to pump him. He refused the liqueur, but accepted a cigar. Jeekes
+waited until they had been served and the waiter had withdrawn silently
+into the dim vastness of the great room before he spoke.
+
+"Now, then, young Wright," he said, "what's this about a letter? Tell me
+from the beginning ..."
+
+Bruce told him of the letter from Elias van der Spyck & Co. which Robin
+had seen upon the desk in the library at Harkings, of his (Bruce's)
+journey down to Harkings that afternoon and of his failure to find the
+letter.
+
+"But why do you assume that I've got it?"
+
+There was an air of forced joviality about Mr. Jeekes as he put the
+question which did not in the least, as he undoubtedly intended it
+should, disguise his eagerness. On the contrary, it lent his rather
+undistinguished features an expression of cunning which can only be
+described as knavish. Bruce Wright, who, as will already have been seen,
+was a young man with all his wits about him, did not fail to remark it.
+The result was that he hastily revised an intention half-formed in his
+mind of taking Jeekes a little way into his confidence regarding Robin
+Greve's doubts and suspicions about Hartley Parrish's death.
+
+But he answered the secretary's question readily enough.
+
+"Because Miss Trevert told me you went to the library immediately you
+arrived at Harkings last night. I consequently assumed that you must
+have taken away the letter seen by Robin Greve ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes drew in his breath with a sucking sound. It was a little
+trick of his when about to speak.
+
+"So you saw Miss Trevert at Harkings, eh?"
+
+Bruce laughed.
+
+"I did," he said. "We had quite a dramatic meeting, too--it was like a
+scene from a film!"
+
+And, with a little good-humoured exaggeration, he gave Mr. Jeekes a
+description of his encounter with Mary. And lest it should seem that
+young Wright was allowing Mr. Jeekes to pump him, it should be stated
+that Bruce was well aware of one of the secretary's most notable
+characteristics, a common failing, be it remarked, of the small-minded,
+and that was an overpowering suspicion of anything resembling a leading
+question. In order, therefore, to gain his confidence, he willingly
+satisfied the other's curiosity regarding his visit to Harkings hoping
+thereby to extract some information as to the whereabouts of the letter
+on the slatey-blue paper.
+
+"There was no letter of this description on the desk, you say, when you
+and Miss Trevert looked?" asked Jeekes when Bruce had finished his
+story.
+
+"Nothing but circulars and bills," Bruce replied.
+
+Mr. Jeekes leaned forward and drank off his coffee with a swift
+movement. Then he said carelessly:
+
+"From what you tell me, Miss Trevert would have been perhaps a minute
+alone in the room without your seeing her?"
+
+Bruce agreed with a nod.
+
+Adjusting his _pince-nez_ on his nose the secretary rose to his feet.
+
+"Very glad to have seen you again, Wright," he said, thrusting out a
+limp hand; "must run off now--mass of work to get through ..."
+
+Then Bruce risked his leading question.
+
+"If you haven't got this letter," he observed, "what has become of it?
+Obviously the police are not likely to have taken it because they know
+nothing of its significance ..."
+
+"Quite, quite," answered Mr. Jeekes absently, but without replying to
+the young man's question.
+
+"Why," asked Bruce boldly, "did old H.P. make such a mystery about these
+letters on the slatey-blue paper, Mr. Jeekes?"
+
+The secretary wrinkled up his thin lips and sharp nose into a cunning
+smile.
+
+"When you get to be my age, young Wright," he made answer, "you will
+understand that every man has a private side to his life. And, if you
+have learnt your job properly, you will also know that a private
+secretary's first duty is to mind his own business. About this letter
+now--it's the first I've heard of it. Take my advice and don't bother
+your head about it. _If_ it exists ..."
+
+"But it _does_ exist," broke in Bruce quickly. "Mr. Greve saw it and
+read it himself ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes laughed drily.
+
+"Don't you forget, young Wright," he said, jerking his chin towards the
+youngster in a confidential sort of way, "don't you forget that Mr.
+Greve is anxious to find a plausible motive for Mr. Parrish's suicide.
+People are talking, you understand! That's all I've got to say! Just you
+think it over ..."
+
+Bruce Wright bristled up hotly at this.
+
+"I don't see you have any reason to try and impugn Greve's motive for
+wishing to get at the bottom of this mysterious affair ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes affected to be engrossed in the manicuring of his nails. Very
+intently he rubbed the nails of one hand against the palm of the other.
+
+"No mystery!" he said decisively with a shake of the head: "no mystery
+whatsoever about it, young Wright, except what the amateur detectives
+will try and make it out to be. Or has Mr. Greve discovered a mystery
+already?"
+
+The question came out artfully. But in the quick glance which
+accompanied it, there was an intent watchfulness which startled Bruce
+accustomed as he was to the mild and unemotional ways of the little
+secretary.
+
+"Not that I know of," said Bruce. "Greve is only puzzled like all of us
+that H.P. should have done a thing like this!"
+
+Mr. Jeekes was perfectly impassive again.
+
+"The nerves, young Wright! The nerves!" he said impressively. "Harley
+Street, not Mr. Greve, will supply the motive to this sad affair,
+believe me!"
+
+With that he accompanied the young man to the door of the club and from
+the vestibule watched him sally forth into the rain of Pall Mall.
+
+Then Mr. Jeekes turned to the hall porter.
+
+"Please get me Stevenish one-three-seven," he said, "it's a trunk call.
+Don't let them put you off with 'No reply.' It's Harkings, and they are
+expecting me to ring them. I shall be in the writing room."
+
+When, twenty minutes later, Mr. Jeekes emerged from the trunk call
+telephone box in the club vestibule, his mouth was drooping at the
+corners and his hands trembled curiously. He stood for an instant in
+thought tapping his foot on the marble floor of the deserted hall dimly
+lit by a single electric bulb burning over the hall porter's box. Then
+he went back to the writing-room and returned with a yellow telegram
+form.
+
+"Send a boy down to Charing Cross with that at once, please," he said to
+the night porter.
+
+Fate which had brought Bruce Wright face to face with Mr. Jeekes gave
+the kaleidoscope another jerk that night. As Bruce Wright entered the
+Tube Station at Dover Street to go home to South Kensington, it occurred
+to him that he would ring up Robin Greve at his chambers in the Temple
+and give him an outline of his (Bruce's) talk with Jeekes. Bruce went to
+the public callbox in the station, but the rhythmic "Zoom-er! Zoom-er!
+Zoom-er!" which announces that a number is engaged was all the
+satisfaction he got. The prospect of waiting about the draughty station
+exit did not appeal to him, so he decided to go home and telephone
+Robin, as originally arranged, in the morning.
+
+Just about the time that he made this resolve, Robin in his rooms in the
+Temple was hanging up the receiver of his telephone with a dazed
+expression in his eyes. Mr. Manderton had rung him up with a piece of
+intelligence which fairly bewildered him. It bewildered Mr. Manderton
+also, as the detective was frank enough to acknowledge.
+
+Mary Trevert had gone to Rotterdam for a few days in company with her
+cousin, Major Euan MacTavish. Mr. Manderton had received this
+astonishing information by telephone from Harkings a few minutes before.
+
+"It bothers me properly, Mr. Greve, sir," the detective had added.
+
+"There's only one thing for it, Manderton," Robin had said; "I'll have
+to go after her ..."
+
+"The very thing I was about to suggest myself, Mr. Greve. You're
+unofficial-like and can be more helpful than if we detailed one of our
+own people from the Yard. And with the investigation in its present
+stage I don't reely feel justified in going off on a wild-goose chase
+myself. There are several important enquiries going forward now, notably
+as to where Mr. Parrish bought his pistol. But we certainly ought to
+find out what takes Miss Trevert careering off to Rotterdam in this
+way ..."
+
+"It seems almost incredible," Robin had said, "but it looks to me as
+though Miss Trevert must have found out something about the letter ..."
+
+"Or found it herself ..."
+
+"By Jove! She was in the library when Bruce Wright was there. This
+settles it, Manderton. I must go!"
+
+"Then," said the detective, "I'm going to entrust you with that slotted
+sheet of paper again. For I have an idea, Mr. Greve, that you may get a
+glimpse of that letter before I do. I'll send a messenger round with it
+at once."
+
+Then a difficulty arose. Manderton had not got the girl's address. They
+had no address at Harkings. Nor did he know what train Miss Trevert had
+taken. She might have gone by the 9 P.M. that night. Had Mr. Greve got a
+passport? Yes, Robin had a passport, but it was not vis�ed for Holland.
+That meant he could not leave until the following evening. Then Robin
+had a "brain wave."
+
+"There's an air service to Rotterdam!" he exclaimed. "It doesn't leave
+till noon. A pal of mine went across by it only last week. That will
+leave me time to get my passport stamped at the Dutch Consulate, to
+catch the air mail, and be in Rotterdam by tea-time! And, Manderton, I
+shall go to the Grand Hotel. That's where my friend stopped. Wire me
+there if there's any news ..."
+
+Air travel is so comfortably regulated at the present day that Robin
+Greve, looking back at his trip by air from Croydon Aerodrome to the big
+landing-ground outside Rotterdam, acknowledged that he had more
+excitement in his efforts to stir into action a lethargic Dutch passport
+official in London, so as to enable him to catch the air mail, than in
+the smooth and uneventful voyage across the Channel. He reached
+Rotterdam on a dull and muggy afternoon and lost no time in depositing
+his bag at the Grand Hotel. An enquiry at the office there satisfied him
+that Mary Trevert had not registered her name in the hotel book. Then he
+set out in a taxi upon a dreary round of the principal hotels.
+
+But fate, which loves to make a sport of lovers, played him a scurvy
+trick. In the course of his search it brought Robin to that very hotel
+towards which, at the selfsame moment, Mary Trevert was driving from
+the station. By the time she arrived, Robin was gone and, with despair
+in his heart, had started on a tour of the second-class hotels, checking
+them by the Baedeker he had bought in the Strand that morning. It was
+eight o'clock by the time he had finished. He had drawn a blank.
+
+The sight of a huge, plate-glass-fronted caf� reminded him that in the
+day's rush he had omitted to lunch. So he paid off his taxi and dined
+off succulent Dutch beefsteak, pounded as soft as velvet and swimming
+with butter and served in a bed of deliciously browned 'earth apples,'
+as the Holl�nders call potatoes. The caf� was stiflingly hot; there was
+a large and noisy orchestra in the front part and a vast billiard-saloon
+in the back--a place of shaded lights, clicking balls, and guttural
+exclamations. The heat of the place, the noise and the cries combined
+with the effect of his long journey in the fresh air to make him very
+drowsy. When he had finished dinner he was content to postpone his
+investigations until the morrow and go to bed. Emerging from the caf� he
+found to his relief that his hotel was but a few houses away.
+
+As he sat at breakfast the next morning, enjoying the admirable Dutch
+coffee, he reviewed the situation very calmly but very thoroughly. He
+told himself that he had no indication as to Mary Trevert's business in
+Rotterdam save the supposition that she had found the van der Spyck
+letter and had come to Rotterdam to investigate the matter for herself.
+He realized that the hypothesis was thin, for, in the first place, Mary
+could have no inkling as to the hidden significance of the document,
+and, in the second place, she was undoubtedly under the impression that
+Hartley Parrish was driven to suicide by his (Robin's) threats.
+
+But, in the absence of any other apparent explanation of the girl's
+extraordinary decision to come to Rotterdam, Robin decided he would
+accept the theory that she had come about the van der Spyck letter. How
+like Mary, after all, he mused, self-willed, fearless, independent, to
+rush off to Holland on her own on a quest like this! Where would her
+investigations lead her? To the offices of Elias van der Spyck & Co., to
+be sure! Robin threw his napkin down on the table, thrust back his
+chair, and went off to the hotel porter to locate the address of the
+firm.
+
+The telephone directory showed that the offices were situated in the
+Oranien-Straat, about ten minutes' walk from the hotel, in the business
+quarter of the city round the Bourse. Robin glanced at the clock. It
+was twenty minutes to ten. The principals, he reflected, were not likely
+to be at the office before ten o'clock. It was a fine morning and he
+decided to walk. The hotel porter gave him a few simple directions: the
+gentleman could not miss the way, he said; so Robin started off, hope
+high in his breast of getting a step nearer to the elucidation of the
+mystery of the library at Harkings.
+
+A brisk walk of about ten minutes through the roaring streets of the
+city brought him to a big open square from which, he had been
+instructed, the Oranien-Straat turned off. He was just passing a large
+and important-looking post-office--he remarked it because he looked up
+at a big clock in the window to see the time--when a man came hastily
+through the swing-door and stopped irresolutely on the pavement in
+front, glancing to right and left as a man does who is looking for a
+cab.
+
+At the sight of him Robin could scarcely suppress an expression of
+amazement. It was Mr. Jeekes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE MAN WITH THE YELLOW FACE
+
+
+In a narrow, drowsy side street at Rotterdam, bisected by a somnolent
+canal, stood flush with the red-brick sidewalk a small clean house. Wire
+blinds affixed to the windows of its ground and first floors gave it a
+curious blinking air as though its eyes were only half open. To the neat
+green front door was affixed a large brass plate inscribed with the
+single name: "Schulz."
+
+A large woman, in a pink print dress with a white cloth bound about her
+head, was vigorously polishing the plate as, on the morning following
+her departure from London, Mary Trevert, Dulkinghorn's letter of
+introduction in her pocket, arrived in front of the residence of Mr.
+William Schulz. Euan MacTavish had, on the previous evening, seen her to
+her hotel and had then--very reluctantly, as it seemed to
+Mary--departed to continue his journey to The Hague, his taxi piled high
+with white-and-green Foreign Office bags, heavily sealed with scarlet
+wax.
+
+Mary Trevert approached the woman, her letter of introduction, which
+Dulkinghorn, being an unusual person, had fastened down, in her hand.
+
+"Schulz?" she said interrogatively.
+
+"_Nicht da_," replied the woman without looking up from her rubbing.
+
+"Has he gone out?" asked Mary in English.
+
+"_Verstehe nicht_!" mumbled the woman.
+
+But she put down her cleaning-rag and, breathing heavily, mustered the
+girl with a leisurely stare.
+
+Mary repeated the question in German whereupon the woman brightened up
+considerably.
+
+The _Herr_ was not at home. The _Herr_ had gone out. On business,
+_jawohl_. To the bank, perhaps. But the _Herr_ would be back in time for
+_Mittagessen_ at noon. There was beer soup followed by _Rindfleisch_ ...
+
+Mary hesitated an instant. She was wondering whether she should leave
+her letter of introduction. She decided she would leave it. So she wrote
+on her card: "Anxious to see you as soon as possible" and the name of
+her hotel, and gave it, with the letter, to the woman.
+
+"Please see that Herr Schulz gets that directly he comes in," she said.
+"It is important!"
+
+"_Gut, gut_!" said the woman, wiping her hands on her apron. She took
+the card and letter, and Mary, thanking her, set off to go back to her
+hotel.
+
+About twenty yards from Mr. Schulz's house a narrow alley ran off. As
+Mary turned to regain the little footbridge across the canal to return
+to the noisy street which would take her back to the hotel, she caught
+sight of a man disappearing down this alley.
+
+She only had a glimpse of him, but it was sufficient to startle her
+considerably. He was a small man wearing a tweed cap and a tweed
+travelling ulster of a vivid brown. It was not these details, however,
+which took her aback. It was the fact that in the glimpse she had had of
+the man's face she had seemed to recognize the features of Mr. Albert
+Edward Jeekes.
+
+"What an extraordinary thing!" Mary said to herself. "It _can't_ be Mr.
+Jeekes. But if it is not, it is some one strikingly like him!"
+
+To get another view of the stranger she hurried to the corner of the
+alley. It was a mere thread of a lane, not above six yards wide, running
+between the houses a distance of some sixty yards to the next street.
+But the alley was empty. The stranger had disappeared.
+
+Mary went a little way down the lane. A wooden fence ran down it on
+either side, with doors at intervals apparently giving on the back yards
+of the houses in the street. There was no sign of Mr. Jeekes's double,
+so she retraced her steps and returned to her hotel without further
+incident.
+
+She had not been back more than half an hour when a waiter came in to
+the lounge where she was sitting.
+
+"Miss Trevert?" he said. "Zey ask for you at ze delephone!"
+
+He took her to a cabin under the main staircase.
+
+"This is Miss Trevert speaking!" said Mary.
+
+"I am speaking for Mr. Schulz," a man's voice answered--rather a nasal
+voice with a shade of foreign inflexion--"he has had your letter. He is
+very sorry he has been detained in the country, but would be very glad
+if you would lunch with him to-day at his country-house."
+
+"I shall be very pleased," the girl replied. "Is it far?"
+
+"Only just outside Rotterdam," the voice responded. "Mr. Schulz will
+send the car to the hotel to pick you up at 11.45. The driver will ask
+for you. Is that all right?"
+
+"Certainly," said Mary. "Please thank Mr. Schulz and tell him I will
+expect the car at a quarter to twelve!"
+
+Punctually at the appointed hour an open touring-car drove up to the
+hotel. Mary was waiting at the entrance. The driver was a young Dutchman
+in a blue serge suit. He jumped out and came up to Mary.
+
+"Mees Trevert?" he said.
+
+Mary nodded, whereupon he helped her into the car, then got back into
+the driving-seat and they drove away.
+
+A run of about twenty minutes through trim suburbs brought them out on a
+long straight road, paved with bricks and lined with poplars. The day
+was fine with a little bright sunshine from time to time and a high wind
+which kept the sails of the windmills dotting the landscape turning
+briskly. They followed the road for a bit, then branched off down a side
+turning which led to a black gate. It bore the name "Villa Bergendal" in
+white letters. The gate opened into a short drive fringed by thick
+laurel bushes which presently brought them in view of an ugly square
+red-brick house.
+
+The car drew up at a creeper-hung porch paved in red tiles. The
+chauffeur helped Mary to alight and, pushing open a glass door, ushered
+the girl into a square, comfortably furnished hall. Some handsome
+Oriental rugs were spread about: trophies of native weapons hung on the
+walls, and there were some fine specimens of old Dutch chests and blue
+Delft ware.
+
+The chauffeur led the way across the hall to a door at the far end. As
+Mary followed him, something bright lying on one of the chests caught
+her eye. It was a vivid brown travelling ulster and on it lay a brown
+tweed cap.
+
+Mary Trevert was no fool. She was, on the contrary, a remarkably
+quick-witted young person. The sight of that rather "loud" overcoat
+instantly recalled the stranger so strikingly resembling Mr. Jeekes who
+had disappeared down the lane as she was coming away from Mr. Schulz's
+house. Mr. Jeekes _was_ in Rotterdam then, and had, of course, been sent
+by her mother to look after her. What a fool she had been to allow Euan
+MacTavish to persuade her to tell her mother of her plans!
+
+Mary suddenly felt very angry. How dare Mr. Jeekes spy on her like this!
+She was quite capable, she told herself, of handling her own affairs,
+and she intended to tell the secretary so very plainly. And if, as she
+was beginning to believe, Mr. Schulz were acting hand in glove with Mr.
+Jeekes, she would let him know equally plainly that she had no intention
+of troubling him, but would make her own investigations independently.
+With a heightened colour she followed the chauffeur and passed through
+the door he held open for her.
+
+She found herself in a small, pleasant room with a bright note of colour
+in the royal blue carpet and window-curtains. A log-fire burned
+cheerfully in the fireplace before which a large red-leather
+Chesterfield was drawn up. On the walls hung some good old Dutch prints,
+and there were a couple of bookcases containing books which, by their
+bindings at least, seemed old and valuable.
+
+At the farther end of the room was another door across which a curtain
+of royal blue was drawn. Mary had scarcely entered the room when this
+door opened and a man appeared.
+
+He was carefully dressed in a well-cut suit of some dark material and
+wore a handsome pearl pin in his black tie. He was a dark, sallow type
+of man, his skin yellowed as though from long residence in the tropics.
+A small black moustache, carefully trained outwards from the lips,
+disclosed, as he smiled a greeting at his visitor, a line of broken
+yellow teeth. His hair, which was grizzled at the temples, was black and
+oily and brushed right back off the forehead. With his coarse black
+hair, his sallow skin, and his small beady eyes, rather like a snake's,
+there was something decidedly un-English about him. As Mary Trevert
+looked at him, somewhat taken aback by his sudden appearance, she became
+conscious of a vague feeling of mistrust welling up within her.
+
+The man closed the door behind him and advanced into the room, his hand
+extended. Mary took it. It was dank and cold to the touch.
+
+"A thousand apologies, my dear Miss Trevert," he said in a soft, silky
+voice, a trifle nasal, with a touch of Continental inflexion, "for
+asking you to come out here to see me. The fact is I had an important
+business conference here this morning and I have a second one this
+afternoon. It was materially impossible for me to come into Rotterdam ...
+But I am forgetting my manners. Let me introduce myself. I am
+Mr. Schulz ..."
+
+Mary Trevert looked at him thoughtfully. Was this the friend of Ernest
+Dulkinghorn, the man of confidence to whom he had recommended her? A
+feeling of great uneasiness came over her. She listened. The house was
+absolutely still. From the utter silence enveloping it--for aught she
+knew--she and her unsavoury-looking companion might be the only persons
+in it. And then she realized that, on the faith of a telephone call, she
+had blindly come out to a house, the very address of which was utterly
+unknown to her.
+
+She fought down a sudden sensation of panic that made her want to
+scream, to bolt from the room into the fresh air, anywhere away from
+those snake eyes, that soft voice, that clammy hand. She collected her
+thoughts, remembered that Jeekes must be somewhere in the house, as his
+outdoor things were in the hall. The recollection reminded her of her
+determination to tolerate no interference from Jeekes or her mother.
+
+So she merely answered: "It was no trouble to come," and waited for the
+man to speak again.
+
+He pulled forward the Chesterfield and made her sit down beside him.
+
+"I had the letter of introduction," he said, "and I want you to know
+that my services are entirely at your disposal. Now, what can I do for
+you?"
+
+He looked at the girl intently--rather anxiously, she thought.
+
+"That was explained in the letter," she answered, meeting his gaze
+unflinchingly.
+
+"Yes, yes, of course, I know. I meant in what way do you propose to make
+use of my ... my local knowledge?"
+
+"I will tell you that, Mr. Schulz," Mary Trevert said in a measured
+voice, "when you tell me what you think of the mission which has brought
+me here ..."
+
+The snake's eyes narrowed a little.
+
+"For a young lady to have come out alone to Holland on a mission of this
+description speaks volumes for your pluck and self-reliance, Miss
+Trevert ..."
+
+"I asked you what you thought of my mission to Holland, Mr. Schulz,"
+Mary interposed coldly.
+
+It was beginning to dawn on her that Mr. Schulz did not seem to know
+anything about the object of her visit, but, on the contrary, was
+seeking to elicit this from her by a process of adroit cross-examination.
+She was rather puzzled, therefore, but also somewhat relieved
+when he said:
+
+"I can give my opinion better after you have shown me the letter ..."
+
+"What letter?" said the girl.
+
+"The letter from Elias van der Spyck and Company, to be sure," retorted
+the other quickly.
+
+Mary dipped her hand into her black fox muff. Then she hesitated. She
+could not rid herself of the suspicion that this man with the sallow
+face and the yellow fangs was not to be trusted. She withdrew her hand.
+
+"This is a very delicate matter, Mr. Schulz," she said. "Our appointment
+was made by telephone, and I think therefore I should ask you to show me
+Mr. Dulkinghorn's letter of introduction before I go any further, so
+that I may feel quite sure in my mind that I am dealing with one in whom
+I know Mr. Dulkinghorn to have every confidence ..."
+
+Mr. Schulz's yellow face went a shade yellower. His mouth twisted itself
+into a wry smile, his thin lips fleshing his discoloured teeth. He
+stood up rather stiffly.
+
+"You are a guest in my house, Miss Trevert," he said with offended
+dignity, "I scarcely expected you to impugn my good faith. Surely my
+word is sufficient ..."
+
+He turned his back on her and took a couple of paces into the room in
+apparent vexation. Then he returned and stood at the back of the
+Chesterfield behind her. His feet made no sound on the thick carpet, but
+some vague instinct made Mary Trevert turn her head. She saw him
+standing there, twisting his hands nervously behind his back.
+
+"Surely my word is sufficient ..." he repeated.
+
+"In business," said Mary boldly, "one cannot be too careful."
+
+"Besides," Mr. Schulz urged, "this was a private letter which Mr. ...
+Mr. Dulkinghorn certainly did not expect you to see. That makes
+it awkward ..."
+
+"I think in the circumstances," said Mary, "I must insist, Mr. Schulz!"
+
+She was now feeling horribly frightened. She strained her ears in vain
+for a sound. The whole house seemed wrapped in a grave-like quiet. The
+smile had never left Mr. Schulz's face. But it was a cruel, wolfish grin
+without a ray of kindliness in it. The girl felt her heart turn cold
+within her every time her eyes fell on the mask-like face.
+
+Mr. Schulz shrugged shoulders.
+
+"Since you insist ..." he remarked. "But I think it is scarcely fair on
+our friend Dulkinghorn. The letter is in the safe in my office next
+door. If you come along I will get it out and show it to you ..."
+
+He spoke unconcernedly, but stiffly, as though to emphasize the slight
+put upon his dignity. One hand thrust jauntily in his jacket pocket, he
+stepped across the carpet to the door with the blue curtain. He opened
+it, then stood back for the girl to pass in before him.
+
+"After you!" he said.
+
+He had placed himself so close to the doorway that the black fox about
+her neck brushed his face as she passed. Suddenly a warm, sickly whiff
+of some sweet-smelling odour came to her. She stopped on the instant,
+irresolute, alarmed. Then a dank hand was clapped on her face, covering
+nostrils and mouth with a soft cloth reeking with a horrible cloying
+drug. An arm with muscles like steel was passed round her waist and held
+her in a vice-like grip against which she struggled in vain. She felt
+her senses slipping, slipping ...
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+TWO'S COMPANY ...
+
+
+On the pavement opposite the post-office stood one of those high pillars
+which are commonly used in Continental cities for the display of theatre
+and concert advertisements. Robin instantly stepped behind it. It was
+not that he wished to avoid being seen by Jeekes as much as that he had
+not decided in his mind what course he had best pursue. From behind the
+cover of the pillar he mustered his man.
+
+The little secretary looked strange and unfamiliar in a sporting sort of
+travelling ulster of a tawny brown hue and a cap of the same stuff. But
+there was no mistaking the watery eyes, the sharp nose, the features. He
+had obviously not seen Robin. His whole attention was rivetted on the
+street. He kept peering nervously to right and left as though expecting
+some one.
+
+Suddenly he stepped forward quickly to the kerb. Then Robin saw an open
+car detach itself from the press of traffic in the square and, driven
+very fast, approach the post-office. It was a large car with a grey
+body; a sallow man wearing a black felt hat sat at the wheel. The car
+drew up at the kerb and halted within a few feet of the advertisement
+pillar. Robin backed hastily round it to escape observation. He had
+resolved to do nothing until he had ascertained who Jeekes's friend was
+and what business the secretary had with him.
+
+"It's all right," Robin heard the man in the car say in English; "I
+telephoned the girl and she's coming. What a piece of luck, eh?"
+
+Robin heard the click of the car door as it swung open.
+
+"... better get along out there at once," he heard the man in the car
+say, "I'm sending Jan in the car for her at ..."
+
+Then Robin stepped out unexpectedly from behind his pillar and cannoned
+into Mr. Jeekes, who was just entering the car.
+
+"Good-morning," said Robin with easy assurance; "I'm delighted to hear
+that you've found Miss Trevert, Jeekes, for, to tell the truth, I was
+feeling somewhat uneasy about her ..."
+
+The secretary's face was a study. The surprise of seeing Robin, who had
+dropped, it seemed to him, out of the clouds into the city of Rotterdam,
+deprived him of speech for an instant. He blinked his eyes, looked this
+way and that, and finally, with a sort of blind gesture, readjusted his
+_pince-nez_ and glared at the intruder.
+
+Then, without a word, he got into the car. But Robin, with a firm hand,
+stayed the door which Jeekes would have closed behind him.
+
+"Excuse me," Robin remarked decidedly, "but I'm coming with you if your
+friend"--at this he looked at the man in the driving-seat--"has no
+objection ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes cast a frightened glance at the sallow man.
+
+The latter said impatiently:
+
+"We're wasting time, Jeekes. Who is this gentleman?"
+
+"This is Mr. Greve," said the little secretary hurriedly, "a friend of
+Mr. Parrish and Miss Trevert. He was staying in the house at the time of
+the tragedy. He has, I understand, taken a prominent part in the
+investigations as to the motive of our poor friend's sad end ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes looked to Robin as he said this as though for confirmation.
+The man at the driving-wheel turned and gave the little secretary a
+quick glance. Then he mustered Robin with a slow, insolent stare. He had
+a yellow face and small black eyes quick and full of intelligence.
+
+Then he bowed.
+
+"My name is Victor," he said. "The sad news about Mr. Parrish was a
+great shock to me. I met him several times in London. Were you anxious
+to see Miss ... er ... Trevert? She has come to Rotterdam (so my friend
+Jeekes tells me) to look into certain important business transactions
+which the late Mr. Parrish had in hand at the time of his death. Did I
+understand you to say that you were uneasy about this lady? Is there any
+mystery about her journey?..."
+
+For the moment Robin felt somewhat abashed. The question was rather a
+poser. Was there, in effect, any mystery about Mary's trip to Rotterdam
+accompanied by her cousin? She had acquainted her people at Harkings
+with her plans. What if, after all, everything was open and above-board,
+and she had merely come to Rotterdam on business? It seemed difficult to
+believe. Surely in such a case the solicitor, Bardy, would have been the
+more suitable emissary ...
+
+"You'll forgive us, I'm sure," the yellow-faced man remarked suavely,
+"but we're in a great hurry. Would you mind closing that door?..."
+
+Robin closed the door. But he got into the car first. As he had stood on
+the pavement in doubt, the recollection of Jeekes's inexplicable lie
+about the payments made by Parrish for the French lady in the Mayfair
+flat came back to him and deepened the suspicion in his mind. It would
+in any case, he told himself, do no harm to find out who this rather
+unsavoury-looking Rotterdam friend of Jeekes's was ...
+
+So Robin jumped into the car and sat down on the back seat next to the
+secretary.
+
+"It happens," he said, "that I am particularly anxious to see Miss
+Trevert. As I gather you are going to meet her, I feel sure you won't
+mind my accompanying you ..."
+
+The yellow-faced man turned with an easy smile.
+
+"Sorry," he said, "but we are having a meeting with Miss Trevert on
+private business and I'm afraid we cannot take you along. Jeekes here,
+however, could take a message to Miss Trevert and if she _wanted_ to see
+you ..."
+
+He broke off significantly and smiled slily at the secretary. Robin felt
+himself flush. So Jeekes had been telling tales out of school to Mr.
+Victor, had he? The young man squared his jaw. That settled it. He would
+stay.
+
+"I promise not to butt in on your private business," he replied, "but I
+simply must see Miss Trevert before I go back to London. So, if you
+don't mind, I think I'll come along ..."
+
+The yellow-faced man glanced at his wrist watch.
+
+"I can't prevent you!" he exclaimed. Then he rapped out something in
+Dutch to Jeekes. The secretary leaned forward to catch the remark. The
+yellow-faced man threw in the clutch.
+
+"Goed!" (good), answered Jeekes in the same language, and resumed his
+seat as the car glided smoothly away from the kerb into the traffic of
+the busy square. Robin settled himself back in the seat with an
+inaudible sigh of satisfaction. He did not like the look of Jeekes's
+companion, he told himself, and Mr. Victor, whoever he was, had
+certainly manifested no great desire for Robin's company. But he was
+going to see Mary. That was all that counted for the moment.
+
+They threaded their way through the streets in silence. It passed
+through Robin's mind to start a discussion with Jeekes about the death
+of Hartley Parrish. But in the circumstances he conceived it might
+easily assume a controversial character, and he did not want to take any
+risk of jeopardizing his chance of meeting Mary again. And no other
+subject of conversation occurred to him. He did not know Jeekes at all
+well, knew him in fact only as a week-end guest knows the private
+secretary of his host, a shadowy personality, indispensable and part of
+the household, but scarcely more than a name ...
+
+The car had put on speed as they left the more crowded streets and
+emerged into the suburbs. Now they were running over a broad straight
+main road lined with poplars. Robin wondered whither they were bound.
+He was about to put the question to the secretary when the man Victor
+turned his head and said over his shoulder:
+
+"_Nu_!"
+
+At the same moment the speed of the car sensibly diminished.
+
+Jeekes put his arm across the young man at his side.
+
+"That door," he said, touching his sleeve, "doesn't seem to be properly
+shut. Would you mind ..."
+
+Robin pushed the door with his hand.
+
+"It seems all right," he said.
+
+"Permit me ..."
+
+The secretary stretched across and pulled back the latch, releasing the
+door. It swung out.
+
+"Now close it," said Mr. Jeekes.
+
+The door was flapping to and fro with the swaying of the car over the
+rough road and Robin had to half rise in order to comply with the
+request. He was leaning forward, steadying himself with one hand
+grasping the back of the driving-seat, when he received a tremendous
+shove in the back. At the same moment the car seemed to leap forward: he
+made a desperate effort to regain his balance, failed, and was whirled
+out head foremost on to the side of the road.
+
+Fortunately for himself he fell soft. The road ran here through a
+little wood of young oak and beech which came right down to the edge of
+the _chauss�e_. The ground was deep in withered leaves which, with the
+rain and the water draining from the road's high camber, were soft and
+soggy. Robin went full length into this muss with a thud that shook
+every bone in his body. His left leg, catching in a bare gorse-bush,
+acted as a brake and stopped him from rolling farther. He sat up, his
+mouth full of mud and his hair full of wet leaves, and felt himself
+carefully over. He contemplated rather ruefully a long rent in the left
+leg of his trousers just across the knee.
+
+"Jeekes!" he murmured; "he pushed me out! The dirty dog!"
+
+Then he remembered that, with the men in the car gone, he had lost trace
+again of Mary Trevert. His forcible ejection from the car was evidence
+enough of their determination to deal with Mary without interference
+from outside. It looked ominous. Robin sprang to his feet and rushed to
+the middle of the road.
+
+The _chauss�e_ was absolutely empty. About a hundred yards from where he
+stood in the direction in which the car had been travelling the road
+made a sharp bend to the right, thus curtailing his view. Robin did not
+hesitate. Not waiting to retrieve his hat or even to wipe the mud from
+his face, he started off at a brisk run along the road in the direction
+in which the car had disappeared. He had not gone far before he found
+that his heavy overcoat was seriously impeding him. He stripped it off
+and, folding it, hid it beneath a bush just inside the plantation. Then
+he ran on again.
+
+Fresh disappointment awaited him when he rounded the bend in the road. A
+few hundred yards on the road turned again. There was no sign of the
+car. A cart piled high with manure was approaching, the driver, wearing
+wooden shoes and cracking at intervals a huge whip, trudging at the
+side.
+
+Robin stopped him.
+
+"Motor-car? Automobile?" he asked pointing in the direction from which
+the cart had come. The driver stared at him with a look of owlish
+stupidity.
+
+"Automobile?" repeated Robin. "Tuff-Tuff?"
+
+Very slowly a grin suffused the carter's grimy face. He showed a row of
+broken black teeth. A tiny stream of saliva escaped from the corner of
+his mouth and trickled over the reddish stubble on his chin. Then he
+continued his way, turning his head every now and then to display his
+idiot's grin.
+
+"Damnation!" exclaimed Robin, starting to run again. "Not a soul to ask
+in this accursed desert except the village idiot! Oh! that Jeekes! I'll
+wring his blinking neck when I get hold of him!"
+
+He was furious with himself for the abject way in which he had been
+fooled. The man Victor had given Jeekes his orders in Dutch and had
+purposely picked a soft spot on the roadside and slowed down the car in
+order that the unwelcome intruder might be ejected as safely as
+possible. And to think that Robin had blandly allowed Jeekes to open the
+door and throw him out on the road!
+
+He was round the second bend now. The sun was shining with a quite
+respectable warmth and the steamy air made him desperately hot. The
+perspiration rolled off his face. But he never slackened his gait. Robin
+knew these Continental roads and their habit of running straight. He
+reckoned confidently on presently coming upon a long stretch where he
+might discern the car.
+
+He was not deceived. After the second bend the _chauss�e_, just as he
+anticipated, straightened out and ran clear away between an
+ever-narrowing double line of poplars to become a bluish blob on the
+horizon. But of the car nothing was to be seen.
+
+For the second time Robin pulled up. He took serious counsel with
+himself. He estimated that he could see for about three miles along the
+road. Less than three minutes had elapsed since his misadventure, and
+therefore he was confident that the car should yet be in sight, unless
+it had left the road, for it could not have warmed up to a speed
+exceeding sixty miles an hour in the time. There was no sign of the car
+on the road, consequently it must have left it. Robin had passed no side
+roads between the scene of the accident and the second bend; therefore,
+he argued, he had the car before him still. He would go on.
+
+When he started off for the third time, it was at a brisk walking pace.
+As he went he kept a sharp lookout to right and left of the road for any
+trace of the car. It never occurred to him that to follow on foot a
+swift car bound for an unknown destination was the maddest kind of
+wild-goose chase. He was profoundly uneasy about Mary, but at the same
+time immeasurably angered by the trick played upon him--angered not so
+much against Jeekes as against the sallow-faced man whom he recognized
+as its inceptor. He had no thought for anything else.
+
+The flat Dutch landscape stretched away on either side of the road. A
+windmill or two, the inevitable irrigation canals with their little
+sluices, and an occasional tree alone broke the monotony of the scene.
+But away to the right Robin noticed a clump of trees which, he surmised,
+might conceivably enclose a house.
+
+As he walked, he scrutinized the roadway for any track of a car. But on
+the hard brick _pav�_ wheels left no mark. The first side road he came
+to was likewise paved in brick. In grave perplexity Robin came to a
+halt.
+
+Then his eye fell upon a puddle. It lay on the edge of the footpath
+bordering the _chauss�e_ about five yards beyond the turning. The soft
+mud which skirted it showed the punched-out pattern of a studded tyre!
+The car had not taken this side road, at any rate. It had probably
+pulled over on to the footpath to pass the manure cart which Robin had
+met. He pushed on again valiantly.
+
+Another hundred yards brought him to a second side road. There was no
+_pav�_ here, but a soft sandy surface. And it bore, clearly imprinted in
+the mud, the fresh tracks of a car as it had turned off the road.
+
+Breaking into a run Robin followed the track down the turning. It led
+him to a black gate beyond which was a twisting gravel drive fringed
+with high laurels. And the gravel showed the same tyre marks as the
+road.
+
+He vaulted the gate lightly and ran up the drive. He was revolving in
+his head what his next move should be. Should he walk boldly into the
+house and confront Jeekes and his rascally looking companion or should
+he first spy out the ground and try to ascertain whether Mary had
+arrived? He decided on the latter course.
+
+Accordingly, when an unexpected turn of the drive brought him in view of
+a white porch, he left the avenue and took cover behind the laurel
+bushes. Walking softly on the wet grass and keeping well down behind the
+laurels, he went forward parallel with the drive. It ran into a clean
+courtyard with a coachhouse or garage on one side and a small green
+door, seemingly a side entrance into the house, on the other.
+
+There was no one in the courtyard and the house seemed perfectly quiet.
+From his post of observation behind the laurels, Robin observed that a
+tall window beside the green door commanded the view across the
+courtyard. He therefore retraced his steps by the way he had come. When
+he was past the corner of the house, he returned to the drive and
+keeping close to the bushes walked quietly into the courtyard. There,
+hugging the wall, he crept round past the closed doors of the garage
+until he found himself beside the tall window adjoining the green door.
+
+The window was open a few inches at the top. From within the sound of
+voices reached him. Jeekes was speaking. Robin recognized his rather
+grating voice at once.
+
+"... no more violence," he was saying; "first Greve and now the girl. I
+don't like your methods, Victor ..."
+
+Very cautiously Robin dropped on one knee and shuffled forward in this
+position until his eyes were on a level with the window-sill. He found
+himself looking into a narrow room, well lighted by a second window at
+the farther end. It was apparently an office, for there was a high desk
+running down the centre and a large safe occupied a prominent place
+against the wall.
+
+Jeekes and the man Victor stood chatting at the desk. The yellow-faced
+man was grinning sardonically.
+
+"Parrish don't like your methods, I'll be bound," he retorted. "Don't
+you worry about the little lady, Jeekes! Bless your heart, I won't hurt
+her unless ..."
+
+The loud throbbing of a car at the front of the house made Robin duck
+his head hastily. The car, he guessed, might be round at the garage any
+moment and it would not do for him to be discovered. He got clear of the
+window, rose to his feet, and tiptoed round the house by the way he had
+come. Then he crossed the drive and regained the shelter of the laurels.
+Crawling along until he came level with the porch, he peeped through.
+
+Mary Trevert was just entering the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THE METAMORPHOSIS OF MR. SCHULZ
+
+
+As the girl collapsed, the yellow-faced man, with an adroit movement,
+whisked the handkerchief off her face and crammed it into his pocket.
+Then, while he supported her with one arm, with the other he thrust at
+the door to close it. Without paying further attention to it, he turned
+and, bending down, lifted the girl without an effort off her feet and
+carried her across the room to the Chesterfield, upon which he laid her
+at full length. Then he seized her muff, which dangled from her neck by
+a thin platinum chain.
+
+Suddenly he heard the door behind him creak. In a flash he remembered
+that he had not heard the click of the lock as he had thrust the door
+to. He was springing erect when a firm hand gripped him by the back of
+the collar and pulled him away from the couch. He staggered back,
+striving to regain his balance, but then a savage shove flung him head
+foremost into the fireplace. He fell with a crash among the fire-irons.
+But he was on his feet again in an instant.
+
+He saw a tall, athletic-looking young man standing at the couch. He had
+a remarkably square jaw; his eyes were shining and he breathed heavily.
+He wore a blue serge suit which was heavily besmeared with white plaster
+and the trousers were rent across one knee. Straight at his throat
+sprang the yellow-faced man.
+
+Something struck him halfway. The young man had waited composedly for
+his coming, but as his assailant advanced, had shot out his left hand.
+There was a sharp crack and the yellow-faced man, reeling, dropped face
+downwards on the carpet without a sound. In his fall his foot caught a
+small table on which a vase of chrysanthemums stood, and the whole thing
+went over with a loud crash. He made a spasmodic effort to rise, hoisted
+himself on to his knees, swayed again, and then collapsed full length on
+the floor, where he lay motionless.
+
+The sound of the fall seemed to awaken the girl. She stirred uneasily
+once or twice.
+
+"What ... what is it?" she muttered, and was still again.
+
+Bending down, the young man gathered her up in his arms and bore her out
+through the door with the blue curtain, through a plainly furnished sort
+of office with high desks and stools, and out by a side door into a
+paved yard. There an open car was standing. The fresh air seemed to
+revive the girl further. As the young man laid her on the seat, she
+struggled up into a sitting position and passed her hand across her
+forehead.
+
+"What is the matter with me?" she said in a dazed voice; "I feel so
+ill!"
+
+Then, catching sight of the young man as he peered into her face, she
+exclaimed:
+
+"Robin!"
+
+"Thank God, you're all right, Mary," said Robin. "We've not got a moment
+to lose. We must get away from here quick!"
+
+He was at the bonnet cranking up the car. But the engine, chilled by the
+cold air, refused to start. As he was straining at the handle, a man
+dashed suddenly into the yard by the office door.
+
+It was Jeekes. The little secretary was a changed man. He still wore his
+_pince-nez_. But his mild air had utterly forsaken him. His face was
+livid, the eyes bulged horribly from his head, and his whole body was
+trembling with emotion. In his hand he held an automatic pistol. He came
+so fast that he was at the car and had covered Robin with his weapon
+before the other had seen him come.
+
+Mr. Jeekes left Robin no time to act. He called out in a voice that rang
+like a pistol shot:
+
+"Hands up, Mr. Smartie! Quick, d'you hear? Put 'em up, damn you!"
+
+Slowly, defiantly the young man raised his arms above his head.
+
+Mr. Jeekes stood close to the driver's seat, having prudently put the
+car between himself and Robin. As he stood there, his automatic levelled
+at the young man, a remarkable thing happened. A black, soft surface
+suddenly fell over his face and was pulled back with a brisk tug. Mary
+Trevert, standing up in the back seat of the car, had flung her fur over
+the secretary's head from behind and caught him in a noose. Before Mr.
+Jeekes could disentangle himself, Robin was at his throat and had borne
+him to the ground. The pistol was knocked skilfully from his hand and
+fell clattering on the flags. Robin pounced down on it. Then for the
+first time he smiled, a sunny smile that lit up his blue eyes.
+
+"Bravo, Mary!" he said. "That _was_ an idea! Now, then, Jeekes," he
+ordered, "crank up that car. And be quick about it! We want to be off!"
+
+The little secretary was a lamentable sight. He was bleeding from a cut
+on the forehead, his clothes were covered with dust, and his glasses had
+been broken in his fall. Peering helplessly about him, he walked to the
+bonnet of the car and sullenly grasped the handle. The smile had left
+Robin's face, and Mary noticed that he looked several times anxiously at
+the office door.
+
+And then suddenly the engine bit. Handing the pistol to the girl, Robin
+warned her to keep the secretary covered and, leaping into the
+driving-seat, turned the car into the avenue which curved round the
+house.
+
+Mr. Jeekes made no further show of fight. He remained standing in the
+centre of the courtyard, a ludicrous, rather pathetic, figure. As the
+tyres of the car gritted on the gravel of the drive, the office door was
+flung open and the yellow-faced man ran out, brandishing a big revolver.
+
+"Stop!" he shouted and levelled his weapon. The car seemed to leap
+forward and took the sharp turn on two wheels just as the man fired. The
+bullet struck the wall of the house and sent up a shower of plaster.
+Before he could fire again the car was round the house and out of sight.
+But as the car whizzed round the turn an instant before the yellow-faced
+man fired, the girl heard a sharp cry from Jeekes:
+
+"Don't, Victor ...!"
+
+The rest of the sentence was lost in the roar of the engine as the car
+raced away down the drive.
+
+They left the avenue in a splutter of wet gravel. The gate still stood
+open. They wheeled furiously into the side road and regained the
+_chauss�e_. As yet there was no sign of pursuit. The car rocked
+dangerously over the broken _pav�_, so Robin, after a glance behind,
+steadied her down to an easier pace. Mary, who looked very pale and ill,
+was lying back on the back seat with her eyes closed.
+
+They ran easily into Rotterdam as, with a terrific jangle of tunes
+played jerkily on the chimes, the clocks were striking two. Robin slowed
+down as they approached the centre of the city.
+
+"Where are you staying, Mary?" he asked.
+
+He had to repeat the question several times before she gave him the
+address. Then he found himself in a quandary. He was in a strange town
+and did not know a word of the language so as to be able to ask the way.
+However, he solved the difficulty without great trouble. He beckoned to
+a newspaper boy on the square outside the Bourse and, holding up a
+two-gulden piece, indicated by signs that he desired him as a guide. The
+boy comprehended readily enough and, springing on the footboard of the
+car, brought them safely to the hotel.
+
+Robin left Mary and the car in charge of the boy and went to the office
+and asked to see the manager. He had decided upon the story he must
+tell.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he said, when the manager, a blond and suave Swiss, had
+presented himself, "has been to the dentist and has been rather upset by
+the gas. Would you get one of the maids to help her up to her room and
+in the meantime telephone for a doctor. If there is an English doctor in
+Rotterdam, I should prefer to have him!"
+
+The manager clicked in sympathy. He despatched a lady typist and a
+chambermaid to help Mary out of the car.
+
+"For a doctor," he said, "it ees fortunate. We 'ave an English doctor
+staying in ze hotel now--a sheep's doctor. He is in ze lounge. Eef you
+come, _hein?_"
+
+The "sheep's doctor" proved to be a doctor off one of the big liners, a
+clean-shaven, red-faced, hearty sort of person who readily volunteered
+his services. As Robin was about to follow him into the lift, the
+manager stopped him.
+
+"Zere was a shentleman call to see Mees Trevert," he said, "two or three
+time 'e been 'ere ... a Sherman shentleman. 'E leave 'er a note ... will
+you take it?"
+
+Greatly puzzled, Robin Greve balanced in his hands the letter which
+the manager produced from a pigeon-hole. Then he tore open the envelope.
+
+  DEAR MISS TREVERT [he read], I was extremely
+  sorry to miss you this morning. Directly I received
+  your message I called at your hotel, but, though I
+  have been back twice, I have not found you in.
+  Circumstances have arisen which make it imperative that
+  I should see you as soon as possible. This is _most
+  urgent_. I will come back at four o'clock, as I cannot
+  get away before. Do not leave the hotel _on any pretext_
+  until you have seen me and Dulkinghorn's letter as
+  identification. You are in _grave danger_.
+
+The note was signed "W. Schulz."
+
+"H'm," was Robin's comment; "he writes like an Englishman, anyway."
+
+He ascertained the number of Mary Trevert's room and went up to her
+floor in the lift. He waited in the corridor outside the room for the
+doctor to emerge, and lit a cigarette to while away the time. It was not
+until he had nearly finished his second cigarette that the doctor
+appeared.
+
+The doctor hesitated on seeing Robin. Then he stepped close up to him.
+Robin noticed that his red face was more flushed than usual and his eyes
+were troubled.
+
+"What's this cock-and-bull story about gas you've put up to the
+manager?" he said bluntly in a low voice. "The girl's been doped with
+chloroform, as well you know. You'll be good enough to come downstairs
+to the manager with me ..."
+
+Robin took out his note-case and produced a card.
+
+"That's my name," he said. "You'll see that I'm a barrister ..."
+
+"Well?" said the doctor in a non-committal voice after he had read the
+card.
+
+"I'm not surprised to hear you say that Miss Trevert has been doped,"
+Robin remarked. "I found her here in a house on the outskirts of
+Rotterdam in the hands of two men, one of whom is believed to be
+implicated in a mysterious case of suspected murder in England. Through
+the part he played this morning, he has probably run his head into the
+noose. But he'll have it out again if we delay an instant. I told the
+manager that yarn about the dentist to avoid enquiries and waste of
+time. I have here a note from some man I don't know, addressed to Miss
+Trevert, warning her of a grave danger threatening her. It corroborates
+to some extent what I have told you. Here ... read it for yourself!"
+
+He handed the doctor the note signed "W. Schulz."
+
+The doctor read it through carefully.
+
+"What I would propose to you," said Robin, "is that we two should go off
+at once to this Herr Schulz and find out exactly what he knows. Then we
+can decide what action there is to be taken ..."
+
+He paused for the doctor's reply. The latter searched Robin's face with
+a glance.
+
+"I'm your man," he said shortly. "And, by the way, my name's
+Collingwood ... Robert Collingwood."
+
+"There's a car downstairs," said Robin, "and a guide to show us the way.
+Shall we go?"
+
+Five minutes later, under the newsboy's expert guidance, the car drew up
+in front of the small clean house with the neat green door bearing the
+name of "Schulz." Leaving the boy to mind the car, they rang the bell.
+The door was opened by the fat woman in the pink print dress.
+
+Robin gave the woman his card. On it he had written "About Miss
+Trevert." Speaking in German the woman bade them rather roughly to bide
+where they were, and departed after closing the front door in their
+faces. She did not keep them waiting long, however, for in about a
+minute she returned. Herr Schulz would receive the gentlemen, she said.
+
+Within, the house was spotlessly clean with that characteristic German
+house odour which always seems to be a compound of cleaning material and
+hot grease. Up a narrow staircase, furnished in plain oil-cloth with
+brass stair-rods, they went to a landing on the first floor. Here the
+woman motioned them back and, bending her head in a listening attitude,
+knocked.
+
+"_Herein_!" cried a guttural German voice.
+
+The room into which they entered would have been entitled to a place in
+any museum for showing the mode of life of the twentieth-century
+Germans. With its stuffy red rep curtains, its big green majolica stove,
+its heavy mahogany furniture, its oleographs of Bismarck, Roon, and
+Moltke, it might have been lifted bodily from a bourgeois house in the
+Fatherland.
+
+A man was sitting at a mahogany roll-top desk as they entered. The air
+in the room was thick with the fumes of the cheap Dutch cigar he was
+smoking. He was a sturdily built fellow with blond hair shaven so close
+to the skull that at a distance he seemed to be bald.
+
+At the sound of their entrance, he rose and faced them. When he stood
+erect the sturdiness of his build became accentuated, and they saw he
+was a man of medium height, but so muscular that he looked much shorter.
+A pair of large tortoise-shell spectacles straddled a big beak-like
+nose, and he wore a heavyish blond moustache with its points trained
+upwards and outwards rather after the fashion made famous in the
+Fatherland by William Hohenzollern. In his ill-cut suit of cheap-looking
+blue serge, which he wore with a pea-green tie, Robin thought he looked
+altogether a typical specimen of the German of the non-commissioned
+officer class.
+
+"You ask for me?" he said in deep guttural accents, looking at Robin;
+"I am Herr Schulz!"
+
+The German's manner was cold and formal and Robin felt a little dashed.
+
+"My name is Greve," he began rather hurriedly. "I understand you
+received a visit to-day from a young English lady, a Miss Trevert ..."
+
+The German let his eyes travel slowly from Robin to the doctor and back
+again. He did not offer them a chair and all three remained standing.
+
+"Ye-es, and what if I did?"
+
+Robin felt his temper rising.
+
+"You wrote a note to Miss Trevert at her hotel warning her that she was
+in danger. I want to know why you warned her. What led you to suppose
+that she was threatened?"
+
+Herr Schulz made a little gesture of the hand.
+
+"Wass I not right to warn her?"
+
+"Indeed, you were," Robin asserted with conviction. "She was spirited
+away and drugged."
+
+The German started. A frowning pucker appeared just above the bridge of
+his big spectacles and he raised his head quickly.
+
+"Drugged?" he said.
+
+"Certainly," said Robin. "This gentleman with me is a doctor ... Dr.
+Robert Collingwood, of the Red Lion Line. He has examined Miss Trevert
+and can corroborate my statement."
+
+"By Gad!" exclaimed Herr Schulz--and this time his English was
+faultless and fluent--"Shut that door behind you, Mr. Greve, and shoot
+the bolt--that's it just below the knob! Sit down, sit down, and while I
+mix you a drink, you shall tell me about this!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+THE READING OF THE RIDDLE
+
+
+In uttering those words Herr Schulz seemed suddenly to become
+loose-limbed and easy. His plethoric rigidity of manner vanished, and,
+though he spoke with a brisk air of authority, there was a jovial ring
+in his voice which instantly inspired confidence. With the change the
+illusion supported by his appalling clothes was broken and he looked
+like a man dressed up for charades.
+
+"Are you--English?" asked Robin in astonishment.
+
+"Only in this room," was the dry reply, "and don't you or our friend,
+the doctor, here forget it. You'll both take whisky? Three fingers will
+do you good, Mr. Greve, for I see you've had a roughish time this
+morning. Say when!"
+
+He spurted a siphon into three glasses.
+
+"Before we go any farther," he went on, "perhaps I had better identify
+myself--to save any further misunderstandings, don't you know? Do either
+of you gentlemen happen to know a party called Dulkinghorn? You may have
+heard of him, Mr. Greve, for I can see you have been in the army ..."
+
+"Not Ernest Dulkinghorn, of the War Office?" asked Robin.
+
+"The identical party!"
+
+"I never met him," said Robin. "But I was at the War Office for a bit
+before I was demobilized and I heard fellows speak of him.
+Counter-espionage, isn't he?"
+
+"That's right," nodded Herr Schulz. "You can read his letter to me
+introducing Miss Trevert."
+
+He handed a sheet of paper to Robin.
+
+  DEAR SCHULZ [it ran], Victor Marbran's push appear
+  to be connected with Hartley Parrish, who has
+  just met his death under suspicious circumstances.
+  You will have read about it in the English papers.
+  Miss Trevert was engaged to H.P. and has a letter
+  from Elias van der Spyck and Company which she
+  found on Parrish's desk after his death. I should say
+  that the Marbran-Parrish connection would repay investigation.
+
+                        Yours
+
+                           E. DULKINGHORN
+
+  P.S. The letter is, of course, in conventional code.
+
+  P.P.S. Don't frighten the life out of the Trevert
+  girl, you unsympathetic brute!
+
+Robin read the letter through to the end.
+
+"Then Mary Trevert has this letter from Rotterdam which we have been
+hunting for!" he cried. "Have you seen it?"
+
+Herr Schulz shook his head.
+
+"Miss Trevert called here this morning," he said, "when I was out. She
+gave her letter to Frau Wirth, my housekeeper, with her card and
+address. Frau Wirth was cleaning the plate on the front door and, a
+moment after Miss Trevert had gone, a fellow appeared and said he was a
+friend of Miss Trevert who had made a mistake and left the wrong letter.
+My housekeeper is well trained and wouldn't give the letter up. But she
+made the fatal mistake of telling the fellow exactly what he wanted to
+know, and that was who the letter was addressed to. 'The letter is
+addressed to Herr Schulz,' said this excellent woman, 'and if there's
+any mistake he will find it out when he opens it.' And with that she
+told him to clear out. Which, having got all he wanted, he was glad
+enough to do!"
+
+"What was this chap like?" asked Robin.
+
+The big man shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I can teach my servants discretion," he replied whimsically, "but I
+can't teach 'em to use their eyes. Frau Wirth could remember nothing
+about this fellow except that he wasn't tall and wore a brown overcoat ..."
+
+"Jeekes!" cried Robin, slapping his thigh. "He must have been actually
+coming away from your place when I met him ..."
+
+"And who," asked the big man, reflectively contemplating the amber
+fluid in his glass, "who is Jeekes?"
+
+In reply Robin told him the story of Hartley Parrish's death, his
+growing certainty that the millionaire had been murdered, the mysterious
+letters on slatey-blue paper, and Jeekes's endeavor to burke the
+investigations by throwing on Robin the suspicion of having driven
+Parrish to suicide by threats. He told of his chance meeting with Jeekes
+in Rotterdam that morning, his adventure at the Villa Bergendal, his
+finding and rescue of Mary Trevert, and their escape.
+
+Herr Schulz listened attentively and without interruption until Robin
+had reached the end of his story.
+
+"There's one thing you haven't explained," he said, "and that's how Miss
+Trevert came to walk into the hands of these precious ruffians ..."
+
+"There, perhaps, I can help you," said the doctor from behind one of
+Herr Schulz's rank cigars; "I have it from Miss Trevert herself. Some
+one impersonating you Mr.--er, ahem,--Schulz--telephoned her this
+morning, after she had left her letter of introduction here, asking her
+to come out to lunch at your country-house. She suspected nothing and
+went off in the car they sent for her ..."
+
+"By George!" said the big man thoughtfully; "I suspected some game of
+this kind when I heard of the attempt to get at that letter of
+introduction. If I only could have got hold of Marbran this morning ..."
+
+"Marbran!" said Robin thoughtfully. "When I read Dulkinghorn's letter
+just now I thought I had heard that name before. Of course--Victor
+Marbran! That was it! I remember now! He knew Hartley Parrish in the old
+days. Parrish once said that Marbran would do him an injury if he could.
+Who is Marbran, sir?"
+
+All unconsciously he paid the tribute of 'sir' to Herr Schulz's
+undoubted habit of command.
+
+"Victor Marbran," replied the big man, "is Elias van der Spyck & Co., a
+firm which made millions in the war by trading with the enemy. In every
+neutral country there were, of course, firms which specialized in
+importing contraband for the use of the Germans, but van der Spyck & Co.
+brought the evasion of the blockade to a fine art. They covered up their
+tracks, however, with such consummate art that we could never bring
+anything home to them. In fact, it was only after the armistice that we
+began to learn something of the immense scope of their operations. There
+was a master brain behind them. But it was never discovered. It strikes
+me, however, that we are on the right track at last ..."
+
+"By Jove ...!" exclaimed Robin impressively. "Hartley Parrish!..."
+
+The big man raised a hand.
+
+"_Attentions!_" he interposed suavely. "The chain is not yet complete. I
+wonder what this van der Spyck letter of Miss Trevert's contained that
+made Victor Marbran and the secretary chap so desperately anxious to get
+hold of it. For you understand, don't you?" he said briskly, turning to
+Robin, "that they were after that and that alone. And they risked penal
+servitude in this country to get it ..."
+
+Robin nodded.
+
+"To save their necks in another," he said.
+
+"I have the letter here," mildly remarked the doctor from his corner of
+the room. "Miss Trevert gave it to me!"
+
+He produced a white envelope and drew from it a folded square of
+slatey-blue paper. In great excitement Robin sprang forward.
+
+"You're a downy bird, Doctor, I must say," he remarked, "fancy keeping
+it up your sleeve all this time!"
+
+He eagerly took the letter, spread it out on the table, and read it
+through whilst Herr Schulz looked over his shoulder.
+
+"Code, eh?" commented the big man, shaking his head humorously. "If it
+beats Dulkinghorn, it beats me!"
+
+From his note-case Robin now drew a folded square of paper identical in
+colour with the letter spread out before them.
+
+"I found this on the carpet beside Parrish's body," he said. "Look, it's
+exactly the same paper ..."
+
+Behind the tortoise-shell spectacles the big man's eyes narrowed down to
+pin-points as he caught sight of the sheet which Robin unfolded and its
+series of slits.
+
+"Aha!" he cried--and his voice rang out clear through the room--"the
+grill, eh? Well, well, to think of that!"
+
+He took the slotted sheet of paper from Robin's hands and laid it over
+the letter so that it exactly covered it, edge to edge and corner to
+corner. In this way the greater part of the typewriting in the letter
+was covered over, and only the words appearing in the slots could be
+read. And thus it was that Robin Greve, Herr Schulz, and Dr.
+Collingwood, leaning shoulder to shoulder, read the message that came to
+Hartley Parrish in the library at Harkings....
+
+  ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+
+  GENERAL IMPORTERS
+
+  ROTTERDAM Rotterdam 25th Nov.
+
+  _Codes_
+  A.B.C.
+  Liebler's
+
+  _Personal_
+
+  Dear Mr. Parrish,
+
+  Your favour of even date to hand and contents
+  noted. _The last_ delivery of steel was to time but we have had
+  _warning_ from the railway authorities that labour troubles at the
+  docks are likely to delay future consignments. _If you don't_
+  mind we should prefer to _settle_ the question of future
+  delivery _by Nov. 27_ as we have a board meeting on the 30th
+  inst. While we fully appreciate your own difficulties with
+  labour at home, _you_ will understand that this is a question
+  which we cannot afford to adjourn _sine_ _die._
+
+  Yours faithfully,
+
+  pro ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+
+"'The last ... warning,'" Robin read out, "'if you don't ... settle ...
+by Nov. 27 ... you ... die ...!'"
+
+He looked up. "Last Saturday," he said, "was the 27th, the day that
+Parrish died ..."
+
+"The grill," remarked the big man authoritatively, "is one of the oldest
+dodges known to the Secret Service. It renders a conventional code
+absolutely undecipherable as long as it is skilfully worded, as it is in
+this case. You send your conventional code by one route, your key by
+another. I make no doubt that this was the way in which van der Spyck &
+Co. transacted their business with Hartley Parrish. They simply posted
+their conventional code letters through the post in the ordinary way,
+confident that there was nothing in them to catch the eye of the
+Censor's Department. The key might be sent in half a dozen different
+ways, by hand, concealed in a newspaper, in a parcel ..."
+
+"So this," said Robin, pointing at the letter, "was what caused Hartley
+Parrish to make his will. It would lead one to suppose that it was what
+induced him to commit suicide were not the presumption so strong that he
+was murdered. But who killed him? Was it Jeekes or Marbran?"
+
+Herr Schulz pitched his cigar-stump into an ash-tray.
+
+"That," he said, "is the question which I am going to ask you gentlemen
+to help me answer. You will realize that legally we have not a leg to
+stand on. We are in a foreign country where, without first getting a
+warrant from London, we can take no steps whatever to run these fellows
+in. To get the Dutch police to move against these gentry in the matter
+of the assault upon Miss Trevert would waste valuable time. And we have
+to move quickly--before these two lads can get away. I therefore propose
+that we start this instant for the Villa Bergendal and try, if we are
+not too late, to force Marbran or Jeekes or both of them to a
+confession. That done, we can hold them if possible until we can get the
+Dutch police to apprehend them at the instance of Miss Trevert. Then we
+can communicate with the English police. It's all quite illegal, of
+course! You have a car, I think, Mr. Greve! You will come with us, Dr.
+Collingwood? Good! Then let us start at once!"
+
+Robin intervened with a proposal that they should call _en route_ at his
+hotel to see if there were any telegrams for him.
+
+"Manderton knows I am in Rotterdam," he explained, "and he promised to
+wire me the latest developments in the enquiry he is conducting."
+
+"Miss Trevert should be fully recovered by this," put in the doctor;
+"apart from a little sickness she is really none the worse for her
+disagreeable experience. If there was anything you wanted to ask her ..."
+
+"There is," said Robin promptly. "Her reply to one question," he
+explained, turning to Herr Schulz, "will give us the certainty that
+Parrish was murdered and did not commit suicide. It will not delay us
+more than five minutes to stop at her hotel in passing, We will then
+call in at my place. We should be at the Villa within half an hour from
+now ..."
+
+"Gentlemen," said Herr Schulz as they prepared to go, "I know my Mr.
+Victor Marbran. You should all be armed."
+
+Robin produced the pistol he had taken from Jeekes. Herr Schulz slipped
+a Browning pistol into the breast-pocket of his jacket and, producing a
+long-barrelled service revolver, gave it to the doctor.
+
+"There are three of them, I gather, counting the chauffeur," commented
+the big man, pulling on his overcoat, "so we shall be equally matched."
+
+Darkness had fallen upon Rotterdam and the lights from the houses made
+yellow streaks in the water of the canal as the car, piloted by Robin,
+drove the party to Mary Trevert's hotel.
+
+They found the girl, pale and anxious, in the lounge.
+
+"Well, now," cried the doctor breezily, "and how are you feeling? Did
+you take my advice and have some tea?"
+
+"What has happened?" asked the girl; "I have been so anxious about you ..."
+
+Her words were addressed to the doctor, but she looked at Robin.
+
+"Mary," said Robin, "we are very near the truth now. But there is one
+thing you can tell us. It is very important. When you heard the shot in
+the library at Harkings, did you notice any other sound--before or
+after?"
+
+The girl paused to think.
+
+"There was a sort of sharp cry and a thud ..."
+
+"I know. But was there anything else? Do try and remember. It's so
+important!"
+
+The girl was silent for a moment. Then she said slowly:
+
+"Yes, there was, now I come to think of it. Just as I tried the door--it
+was locked, you know--there was a sort of hiss, harsh and rather loud,
+from the room ..."
+
+"A sort of hiss, eh? Something like a sneeze?"
+
+"Yes. Only louder and ... and ... harsher!"
+
+"Now, answer me carefully! Was this before or after the shot?"
+
+"Oh, before! Just as I was rattling the doorhandle. The shot broke in
+upon it...."
+
+Robin turned to Herr Schulz, who stood with a grave face by his side.
+
+"The silencer, you see, sir!" he said. Then to Mary he added: "Mary, we
+are going off now. But we will be back within the hour and...."
+
+"Oh, Robin," the girl broke in, "don't leave me alone! I don't feel safe
+in this place after this morning. I'd much rather come with you...."
+
+"Mary, it's quite impossible...." Robin began.
+
+But the girl had turned to a table and taken from it her hat and fur.
+
+"I don't care!" she exclaimed wilfully; "I'm coming anyhow. I refuse to
+be left behind!"
+
+She smiled at Herr Schulz as she spoke, and that gentleman's rather grim
+face relaxed as he looked at her.
+
+"I'm not sure I wouldn't say the same!" he remarked.
+
+The upshot of it was that, despite Robin's objections, Mary Trevert
+accompanied the party. She sat on the back seat, rather flushed and
+excited, between Herr Schulz and the doctor, while Robin took the wheel
+again. A few minutes' drive took them to the big hotel where Robin had
+booked a room. They all waited in the car whilst he went to the office.
+
+He was back in a minute, an open telegram in his hand.
+
+"I believe I've got in my pocket," he cried, "the actual weapon with
+which Hartley Parrish was killed!"
+
+And he read from the telegram:
+
+"Mastertons gunsmiths sold last July pair of Browning automatics
+identical with that found on Parrish to Jeekes who paid with Parrish's
+cheque."
+
+The message was signed "Manderton."
+
+At that moment a man wearing a black bowler hat and a heavy frieze
+overcoat came hurrying out of the hotel.
+
+"Mr. Greve!" he cried as Robin, who was back in the driving-seat, was
+releasing the brake. "Did you have the wire from the Yard saying I was
+coming?" he asked. "Probably I beat the telegraph, though. I came by
+air!"
+
+Then he tipped his hat respectfully at Herr Schulz.
+
+"This is Detective-Inspector Manderton, of Scotland Yard, sir," said
+Robin.
+
+The big man beamed a smile of friendly recognition.
+
+"Mr. Manderton and I are old friends," he said. "How are you,
+Manderton? I didn't expect you to recognize me in these duds ..."
+
+"I'd know you anywhere, sir," said the detective with unwonted
+cordiality.
+
+"Have you got your warrant, Manderton?" asked Herr Schulz.
+
+"Aye, I have, sir," replied the detective. "And I've a colleague from
+the Dutch police who's going along with me to effect the arrest ..."
+
+"Jeekes, eh?"
+
+"That's the party, sir, charged with wilful murder.... This is
+Commissary Boomjes, of the Rotterdam Criminal Investigation Department!"
+
+A tall man with a short black beard had approached the car. It was
+decided that the whole party should proceed to the Villa Bergendal
+immediately. Manderton sat next to Robin and the Dutch police officer
+perched himself on the footboard.
+
+"And where did you pick _him_ up, I'd like to know?" whispered Manderton
+in Robin's ear with a backward jerk of the head, as they glided through
+the brightly lit streets.
+
+"D'you mean the doctor?" asked Robin.
+
+"No, your other friend!"
+
+"Miss Trevert had a letter to him. Something in the Secret Service,
+isn't he?"
+
+Mr. Manderton snorted.
+
+"'Something in the Secret Service,'" he repeated disdainfully. "Well, I
+should say he was. If you want to know, Mr. Greve, he's the head!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+THE FIGURE IN THE DOORWAY
+
+
+The rain was coming down in torrents and the night was black as pitch
+when, leaving the lights of Rotterdam behind, the car swung out on to
+the main road leading to the Villa Bergendal. Thanks to a powerful
+headlight, Robin was able to get a good turn of speed out of her as soon
+as they were clear of the city. As they slowed down at the gate in the
+side road Herr Schulz tapped him on the shoulder.
+
+"Better leave the car here and put the lights out," he counselled. "And
+Miss Trevert should stay if the doctor here would remain to look after
+her ..."
+
+"You think there'll be a scrap?" whispered the doctor.
+
+"With a man like Marbran," returned the Chief, "you never know what may
+happen ..."
+
+"Zere will be no faight," commented the Dutch police officer in
+lugubrious accents, "my vriends, ve are too laite ..."
+
+But the Chief insisted that Mary should stay behind and the doctor
+agreed to act as her escort. Then in single file the party proceeded up
+the drive, Robin in front, then the Dutchman, after him the Chief, and
+Mr. Manderton in the rear.
+
+They walked on the grass edging the avenue. On the wet turf their feet
+made no sound. When they came in view of the house, they saw it was in
+darkness. No light shone in any window, and the only sound to be heard
+was the melancholy patter of the rain drops on the laurel bushes. When
+they saw the porch looking black before them, they left the grass and
+stepped gently across the drive, the gravel crunching softly beneath
+their feet. Robin led the way boldly under the porch and laid a hand on
+the doorknob. The door opened easily and the next moment the four men
+were in the hall.
+
+As Robin moved to the wall to find the electric light switch, a torch
+was silently thrust into his hand.
+
+"Better have this, sir," whispered Manderton. "I have my finger on the
+switch now, but we'd best wait to put the light up until we know where
+they are. Where do we go first?"
+
+"Into the sitting-room," Robin returned.
+
+Switching the torch on and off only as he required it, he crept silently
+over the heavy carpet to the door of the room in which that morning he
+had come upon Mary. Manderton remained at the switch in the hall whilst
+the other two men followed Robin through the door.
+
+The room was in darkness. It struck chill; for the fire had gone out.
+The beam of the torch flitting from wall to wall showed the room to be
+empty.
+
+"I don't believe there's a soul in the house," whispered the Chief to
+Robin.
+
+"Ve are too laite; I have said it!" muttered the Dutchman.
+
+"There is another room leading out of this," replied Robin, turning the
+torch on to the blue curtain covering the door leading into the office.
+"We'll have a look in there and then try upstairs. Manderton will give
+us warning if anybody comes down ..."
+
+So saying he drew the curtain aside and pushed open the door. Instantly
+a gush of cold air blew the curtain back in his face. Before he could
+disentangle himself the door slammed to with a crash that shook the
+house.
+
+"That's done it!" muttered the Chief.
+
+The three men stood and listened. They heard the dripping of the rain,
+the soughing of the wind, but no sound of human kind came to their ears.
+
+"The place is empty," whispered the Chief. "They've cleared ..."
+
+"It is too laite; I have said it." The Dutchman spoke in a hoarse bass.
+
+"We'll go in here, anyway," answered Robin, lifting up the curtain
+again. "They may have heard us and be hiding ..."
+
+He opened the door, steadying it with his foot. The curtain flapped
+wildly round them as they crossed the threshold. The broad white beam of
+the electric torch swung from window to desk, from desk to safe.
+
+"The door over there is open," exclaimed the Chief; "that's the way
+they've gone."
+
+Suddenly he clutched Robin's arm.
+
+"Steady," he whispered, "look there ... in the doorway ... there's
+somebody moving ... quick, the torch!"
+
+The light flashed across the room, blazed for an instant on a
+window-pane, then picked out a man's form swaying in the doorway. He had
+his back to the room and was rocking gently to and fro with the wind
+which they felt cold on their faces.
+
+"It's only a coat and trousers hanging in the door ..." began Robin.
+
+Then, with a suddenness which pained the eyes, the room was flooded with
+light. The Dutch detective stepped from the electric light switch and
+moved to the open door.
+
+"Too laite!" he cried, shaking his head; "have I not tell you?"
+
+Suspended by a strip of coloured stuff, the body of Mr. Jeekes dangled
+from the cross-beam of the door. The corpse oscillated in the breeze,
+silhouetted against an oblong of black sky, turning this way and that,
+loose, unnatural, horrible, and, as the body, twisting gently, faced the
+room, it gave a glimpse of startling eyes, swollen, empurpled features,
+protruding tongue.
+
+Without the least trace of emotion the black-bearded detective picked up
+a rush-bottom chair and gathering up the corpse by its collar hoisted it
+up without an effort so that the feet rested on the chair. Then,
+producing a clasp-knife, he mounted the chair and, with a vigorous
+slash, cut the coloured strip which had been fastened to a staple
+projecting from the brickwork above the door on the outside of the
+house.
+
+He caught the body in his arms and laid it face upwards on the matting
+which covered the floor. He busied himself for an instant at the neck,
+then rose with a twisted strip of coloured material in his hand.
+
+"His braces," he remarked, "very common. The stool what he has stood
+upon and knocked avay, she lies outsaide! My vriends, ve are too laite!"
+
+The doctor, fetched in haste by Manderton, examined the body. The man
+had been dead, he said, for several hours. Mary remained in the hall
+with Manderton while Robin and the Dutch detective went over the house.
+There was no trace either of Marbran or of the chauffeur. In the two
+bedrooms which showed signs of occupation the beds had been made up, but
+the ward-robes were empty.
+
+"Marbran's made a bolt for it," said Robin, coming into the office where
+he had left the Chief, "and taken everything with him ..."
+
+"I gathered as much," answered that astute gentleman, pointing at the
+fireplace. A pile of charred paper filled the grate. "There's nothing
+here, and I think we can wipe Mr. Victor Marbran off the slate. I doubt
+if we shall see him again. At any rate we can leave him to the tender
+mercies of our black-bearded friend here. As for us, I don't really see
+that there is anything more to detain us here ..."
+
+"But," remarked Robin, looking at the still figure on the floor, the
+face now mercifully covered by the doctor's white handkerchief, "surely
+this is a confession of guilt. Has he left nothing behind in writing? No
+account of the crime?"
+
+"Not a thing," responded the Chief, "and I've been through every
+drawer. Even the safe is open ... and empty!"
+
+"But how does it happen then," asked Robin, "that Marbran has legged it
+while Jeekes here ..."
+
+"Marbran left him in the lurch," the Chief broke in decisively. "I think
+that's clear. While you were upstairs with our Dutch friend, I went
+through the dead man's pockets. He had no money, Greve, except a few
+coppers and a little Dutch change. He had not even got a return ticket
+to London. Which makes me think that Master Jeekes had left old England
+for good."
+
+"Another thing that puzzles me," remarked Robin, "is how Jeekes knew
+that Miss Trevert had a letter to you, sir? Or, for a matter of that,
+how he knew that she had gone to Rotterdam at all?"
+
+"That's not hard to answer," said Mr. Manderton, who had just entered
+the room. "On Sunday night Jeekes rang up Harkings from his club and
+asked to speak to Miss Trevert. Bude told him she had gone away. Jeekes
+then asked to speak to Sir Horace Trevert, who told him that his sister
+had gone to Rotterdam. Jeekes takes the first available train in the
+morning, recognizes Miss Trevert on the way across, and tags her to her
+hotel in Rotterdam. The next morning he follows her again, shadows her
+to Sir ... to this gentleman's rooms, and there, as we know, contrived
+by a trick to see to whom she had a letter."
+
+"But why did he not attempt to get the letter away from her as soon as
+she arrived? Miss Trevert never suspected Jeekes. She might have shown
+him the letter if he'd asked her for it ..."
+
+The detective shook his head sagely.
+
+"Jeekes was pretty 'cute," he said. "Before letting the girl know he was
+in Rotterdam, he wanted to find out what she wanted here and whom she
+knew. Remember, he had no means of knowing if the girl suspected him or
+not ..."
+
+"So he devised this trick of impersonating Mr. Schulz on the telephone,
+eh?"
+
+"Bah!" broke in the Chief; "I bet that was Marbran's idea. Look at
+Jeekes's face and tell me if you see in it any feature indicating the
+bold, ingenious will to try a bluff like that. I never knew this fellow
+here. But I know Marbran, a resolute, undaunted type. You can take it
+from me, Marbran directed--Jeekes merely carried out instructions. What
+do you say, Manderton?"
+
+But the detective had retired into his shell again.
+
+"If you will come to Harkings with me the day after to-morrow, sir, I
+shall hope to show you exactly how Mr. Parrish met his death ..."
+
+"No, no, Manderton," responded the Chief; "I can't leave here for a bit.
+There are bigger murderers than Jeekes at liberty in Holland to-day ..."
+
+The detective slapped his thigh.
+
+"I'd have laid a shade of odds," he cried merrily, "that you were
+watching the gentleman at Amerongen, sir ..."
+
+"Tut, tut, Manderton," said the Chief, raising his hand to silence the
+other; "you run on too fast, my friend! I wish," he went on, changing
+the subject, "I could be with you at Harkings to-morrow to witness your
+reconstruction of the crime, Manderton. You'll go, I suppose, Greve?"
+
+"I certainly shall," answered the barrister, "I have had some experience
+of criminals, but I must say I never saw one less endowed with criminal
+characteristics than little Jeekes. A strange character!..."
+
+The Chief laughed sardonically.
+
+"Anyway," he remarked, "he had a damn good notion of the end that
+befitted him ..."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a still, starry night. The Flushing boat stood out of harbour on
+a calm sea. The high arc lamps threw a blue gleam over the deserted
+moles and glinted in the oily swell lapping the quays. From the
+fast-receding quayside the rasping of a winch echoed noisily across the
+silent water. On the upper deck of the mail-boat Robin Greve and Mary
+Trevert stood side by side at the rail. They had the deck to themselves.
+Above their heads on the bridge the captain stood immobile, a square
+black figure, the helmsman at his elbow. Otherwise, between the stars
+and the sea, the man and the girl were alone.
+
+Thus they had stood ever since the mail-boat had cast off from the quay.
+Robin had made some banal attempt at conversation, urging (but without
+much sincerity) that, after her experiences of the day, the girl should
+go to her cabin and rest. But Mary Trevert had merely shaken her head
+impatiently, without speaking.
+
+Presently he put his arm through hers. He felt against his wrist the
+warm softness of her travelling-coat, and it seemed to him that, though
+the girl made no sign, some slight answering pressure met his touch. So
+they leaned upon the rail for a space watching the water fall hissing
+from the vessel's side as the steamer, jarring and quivering, met the
+long steady roll from the open sea.
+
+Then Mary Trevert spoke.
+
+"Robin," she said gently, "I owe you an apology ..."
+
+Robin Greve looked at her quickly. But Mary had her eyes fixed seaward
+in contemplation of a distant light that flared and died with persistent
+regularity.
+
+"My dear," he answered, "I've only myself to blame. When you told me you
+were going to marry Hartley Parrish, I should have known that you had
+your reasons and that those reasons were good. I should have held my
+tongue ..."
+
+This time the girl stole a glance at him. But now he was gazing away to
+the horizon where the light came and went.
+
+"All this misunderstanding between us," he went on, "came about because
+of what I said in the billiard-room that afternoon ..."
+
+The girl shook her head resolutely.
+
+"No," she answered, "it was my fault. I'm a proud devil, Robin, and what
+you said about Hartley and ... and ... other women, Robin, hurt and ...
+and made me angry. No, no, don't apologize again. You and I are old
+enough friends, my dear, to tell one another the truth. You made me
+angry because what you said was true. I _was_ selling myself, selling
+myself with my eyes open, too, and you've got a perfect right never to
+speak to me again ..."
+
+She did not finish the sentence but broke off. Her voice died away
+quaveringly. Robin took her hand in his.
+
+"Dear," he said, "don't cry! It's over and done with now ..."
+
+Mary shook herself with an angry gesture.
+
+"What's the good of telling me not to cry?" she protested tearfully;
+"I've disgraced myself in my own eyes as well as in yours. If you can't
+forget what I was ready to do, I never shall ..."
+
+Very gently the young man turned the girl towards him.
+
+"I'm not such a prig as all that," he said. "We all make mistakes. You
+know I understand the position you were in. Parrish is dead. I shall
+forget the rest ..."
+
+Slowly the girl withdrew her hands from his grasp.
+
+"Yes," she said wearily, "you will find it easy to forget!"
+
+She drew her fur closer about her neck and turned her back on the sea.
+
+"I must go down," she said. And waited for the man to stand aside. He
+did not move and their eyes met. Suddenly, like a child, she buried her
+face in her arm flung out across his chest. She began to sob bitterly.
+
+"That afternoon ... in the billiard-room ..." she sobbed, "you will
+forget ... that ... too ... I suppose ..."
+
+Robin took her face in his hands, a hot, tear-stained face, and detached
+it from the sheltering arm.
+
+"My dear," he said, "I shall have to try to forget it. But I know I
+shan't succeed. To the end of my life I shall remember the kiss you gave
+me. But we are farther apart than ever now!"
+
+There was a great sadness in his voice. It arrested the girl's attention
+as he dropped his hands and turned back to the rail.
+
+"Why?" she said in a low voice, without looking up.
+
+"Because," replied the young man steadily, "you're rich now, Mary ..."
+
+The girl looked up quickly.
+
+"Will men ever understand women?" she cried, a new note in her voice.
+She stepped forward and, putting her two hands on the young man's
+shoulders, swung him round to face her.
+
+"I'm as poor as ever I was," she said, "for Hartley Parrish's money is
+not for me ..."
+
+"Mary!" exclaimed the young man joyfully.
+
+"Robin Greve," cried the girl, "do you mean to tell me you'd stand there
+thinking I'd accept money made like that ..."
+
+But now she was in his arms. With a little fluttering sigh she yielded
+to his kiss.
+
+"Oh, the man on the bridge!..." she murmured with her woman's instinct
+for the conventions.
+
+"Come behind the boat, then!" commanded Robin.
+
+And in the shadow of a weather-stained davit he kissed her again.
+
+"So you'll wait for me, after all, Mary?"
+
+"No," retorted the girl firmly. "We'll read the Riot Act to Mother and
+you must marry me at once!"
+
+The wind blew cold from the North Sea. It rattled in the rigging,
+flapped the ensign standing out stiffly at the stern, and whirled the
+black smoke from the steamer's funnels out into a dark aerial wake as
+far as the eye could reach. With a gentle rhythmic motion the vessel
+rose and fell, while the stars began to pale and faint grey shadows
+appeared in the eastern sky. Still the man and the girl stood by the
+swaying lifeboat and talked the things that lovers say. Step by step
+they went over their thoughts for one another in each successive phase
+of the dark tragedy through which they had passed.
+
+"And that van der Spyck letter," asked Robin; "how did you get hold of
+it? I've been wanting to ask you that ever since this afternoon ..."
+
+"I found it in the library," replied the girl, "on the desk. It had got
+tucked away between two letter-trays--one fits into the other, you
+know."
+
+"I wondered how Jeekes had come to miss it," said Robin. "But when was
+this?" he added.
+
+"On Sunday afternoon."
+
+"But what were you doing in the library?"
+
+The girl became a little embarrassed.
+
+"I knew Mr. Manderton was suspicious of you. I heard him telephoning
+instructions to London to have you watched. So I thought I'd go to the
+library to see if I could find anything which would show what they had
+against you exactly. And I found this letter. Then I noticed some one
+hiding behind the curtains, and, as I had the letter in my hand, I hid
+it in my dress. When I discovered that Bruce Wright was after it too, I
+pretended I had found nothing ..."
+
+"But, darling, why?"
+
+"I wanted to make sure for myself why you had sent Bruce Wright, for I
+guessed he had come from you, to look for this letter. So I thought I'd
+go to Rotterdam to investigate ..."
+
+Robin laughed affectionately.
+
+"Surely it would have been simpler to have given the letter to the
+police ..."
+
+Mary gave him a look of indignant surprise.
+
+"But it might have incriminated you!" she exclaimed.
+
+At that Robin kissed her again.
+
+"Will men _ever_ understand women?" he asked, looking into her tranquil
+grey eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+AN INTERRUPTION FROM BEYOND
+
+
+Sudden frost had laid an icy finger on the gardens of Harkings. The
+smooth green lawns were all dappled with white and wore a pinched and
+chilly look save under the big and solemn firs where the ground, warmed
+by its canopy of branches and coverlet of cones, had thawed in dark
+patches. The gravel walks were firm and dry; and in the rosery the bare
+skeleton of the pergolas stood out in clear-cut silhouette against a
+white and woolly sky.
+
+Overnight the frost had come. It had taken even the birds by surprise.
+They hopped forlornly about the paths as though wondering where they
+would get their breakfast. Robin Greve, idly watching them from the
+library window, found himself contrasting the cheerful winter landscape
+with the depressing conditions of the previous day. In wind and rain the
+master of Harkings had been laid to rest in the quiet little churchyard
+of Stevenish. The ceremony had been arranged in haste, as soon as the
+coroner's jury had viewed the body. Robin Greve, that morning arrived
+from Rotterdam, Bude, and Mr. Bardy the solicitor, had been the only
+mourners. As Robin looked out upon the wintry scene, his mind reverted
+to the hurried funeral with its depressing accompaniment of gleaming
+umbrellas, mud from the freshly turned clay, and dripping trees.
+
+Beneath the window of the library, its shattered pane now replaced, a
+cluster of starlings whistled gaily, darting bright-eyed glances, full
+of anticipation, at the closed window.
+
+"_He_ used to give them crumbs every morning after breakfast," said
+Mary. "See, Robin, how they are looking up! It seems a shame to
+disappoint them...."
+
+As though relieved to be quit of his dark thoughts, Robin, with a glad
+smile, turned to the girl. Dipping his hand into his pocket, he produced
+a hunk of bread and put it in her hand.
+
+"You think of everything!" she said, smiling back at him prettily.
+
+He pushed up the window and she crumbled the bread for the birds. He
+rested one hand on her shoulder.
+
+"He thought of everything, too," was his comment, "even down to the
+birds. It's extraordinary! No detail was too small for him!..."
+
+"He _was_ remarkable, Robin," answered the girl soberly; "there was
+something magnetic about his personality that made people like him.
+Even now that he is dead, even in spite of what we know, I can feel his
+attraction still. And the whole house is impregnated with his
+personality. Particularly this room. Don't you feel it? I don't mind
+being here with you, Robin, but I shouldn't like to be here alone. I was
+dreadfully frightened on Sunday evening when I came here. And when I saw
+the curtains move ... oh! I thought my heart would stop beating! Dear,
+I'm glad we are giving this place up. I don't feel that I could ever be
+happy here ... even with you!"
+
+"Poor devil!" said Robin. And then again he said: "Poor devil!"
+
+"It was terrible ... to die like that!" replied Mary.
+
+"It was terrible for him to lose _you_!" answered the young man.
+
+She gave his hand a little, tender squeeze, but relinquished it quickly
+as the door opened.
+
+Mr. Manderton was there, broad-shouldered and burly. Behind came Dr.
+Romain with a purple nose and eyes watering with the cold, Horace
+Trevert in plain clothes, Mr. Bardy, the solicitor, plump, middle-aged,
+and prim, with a broad, smooth-shaven face and an eyeglass on a black
+silk riband. In the background loomed the large form of Inspector
+Humphries, ruddy of cheek as of hair. Lady Margaret did not appear.
+
+Mr. Manderton slapped his bowler hat briskly on a side table and with a
+little bow to Mary walked to the desk.
+
+"Now," said Mr. Manderton with a long, shrewd look that comprehended the
+company, individually and collectively, and the entire room, "if
+Inspector Humphries will kindly close the door, we will reconstruct the
+crime in the light of the evidence we have collected."
+
+He turned round to the desk and pulled back the chair ... Hartley
+Parrish's empty chair.
+
+"It is just on five o'clock on Saturday evening, November 27," he began,
+"and growing dark outside. Mr. Parrish is sitting here"--he tapped the
+chair--"with all the lights in the room turned off except this one on
+the desk."
+
+Here he put a large hand on the reading-lamp.
+
+"The assumption that Mr. Parrish spent the afternoon, as he had spent
+the morning, over papers in connection with the business of Hornaway's
+in which he was interested is not correct. Mr. Archer, one of Mr.
+Parrish's secretaries who brought down a number of papers and letters
+for Mr. Parrish to sign in the morning, states that as far as Hornaway's
+or any other office business was concerned, Mr. Parrish was through with
+it by lunch. This is corroborated by the fact that no business papers of
+this description, with the exception of one, which I am coming to
+directly, were found on the desk here after Mr. Parrish's death. Nor
+were there any traces of burnt paper in or about the fire. These two
+facts were established by my colleague, Inspector Humphries."
+
+At this everybody turned and looked at the Inspector, who blushed until
+the tint of his hair positively paled by comparison with that of his
+face.
+
+"What Mr. Archer _did_ leave with Mr. Parrish, however," Mr. Manderton
+resumed, looking round the group and emphasising the "did," "was his
+will and this letter ..."--he held up a typewritten sheet of slatey-blue
+paper--"which, a straightforward business communication in appearance,
+was in reality a threat against his life. It was with these two
+documents that Mr. Parrish spent the last few hours before he was found
+dead in this room. A few odd papers found lying on the desk have nothing
+to do with the case and may therefore be dismissed."
+
+Mr. Manderton paused and then, with the deliberation which distinguished
+his every movement, walked round the desk to the window.
+
+"The fire in this room," he said, turning and facing his audience, "was
+smoking. The butler will testify to this and state that Mr. Parrish
+complained about it to him with the result that the sweep was ordered
+for Monday morning. Owing to the smoke in the room Mr. Parrish opened
+the window. His finger-prints were on the inside of the window-frame and
+a small fragment of white paint was still adhering to one of his
+finger-nails.
+
+"The window, then, was open as it is now. Mr. Parrish sat at his desk,
+read through his will, and wrote a letter to Miss Trevert informing her
+that, under the will, she was left sole legatee. This letter, with the
+will, was found on the desk after Mr. Parrish's death. Presumably in
+view of the threat against his life contained in this letter,"--the
+detective held up the slatey-blue paper,--"Mr. Parrish had either in his
+pocket or, as I am more inclined to think, lying on the desk in front of
+him, his Browning automatic pistol. This pistol was fitted with a Maxim
+silencer, an invention for suppressing the report of a firearm, which
+was sent to Mr. Parrish by a friend in America some years ago and which
+he kept permanently attached to the weapon."
+
+Mr. Manderton came to an impressive full stop and glanced round his
+circle of listeners. He gave his explanations easily and fluently, but
+in a plain, matter-of-fact tone such as a police constable employs in
+the witness-box. He had marshalled his facts well, and his measured
+advance towards his _d�nouement_ was not without its effect on his
+audience. Dr. Romain, nursing his knee on a leather settee, Horace
+Trevert, a tall slim figure eagerly watching the detective from his
+perch on the arm of the Chesterfield, and Robin and Mary, standing, very
+close together, behind the empty chair at the desk--each and every one
+was listening with rapt attention. Inspector Humphries, propping his big
+bulk uneasily against the wall near the door, was the only one who
+appeared to be oblivious of the strain.
+
+The detective walked round the desk and seated himself in the chair.
+
+"Mr. Parrish is seated at the desk here," he resumed, "when his
+attention is directed to the window."
+
+And here Mr. Manderton raised his head and looked out towards the
+frost-strewn gardens.
+
+"Maybe he hears a step, more probably he sees a face staring at him out
+of the dark. Very much to his surprise he recognizes Jeekes, his
+principal private secretary--I say to his surprise because he must have
+believed Jeekes, who had the week-end free, to be in London. And at
+that, perhaps because he thinks he has made a mistake--in any case to
+make sure--he gets up...."
+
+The detective suited the action to the word. He pushed back the chair
+and rose to his feet. They saw he held a large automatic pistol in his
+hand.
+
+"He has had this threatening letter, remember, so he takes his pistol
+with him. And he reaches the window ..."
+
+The detective was at the window now, his back to the room.
+
+"He speaks to Jeekes, angrily, maybe--the butler heard the sound of loud
+voices--they have words. And then ..."
+
+There came a knock at the library door. It was not a loud knock. It was
+in reality scarcely more than a gentle tap. But it fell upon a silence
+of Manderton's own creating, a rapt silence following a pause which
+preceded the climax of his narrative. So the discreet knocking resounded
+loud and clear through the library.
+
+"Who is that? What is it?" rapped out Dr. Romain irritably.
+
+"Don't let any one disturb us, Inspector!" called out Horace Trevert to
+Inspector Humphries, who had opened the door.
+
+Bude's face appeared in the doorway. He had a short altercation with the
+Inspector, who resolutely interposed his massive form between the butler
+and the room.
+
+"What is it, Bude?" asked Robin, going to the door.
+
+"It's a letter for Miss Trevert, sir!" said Bude.
+
+"Well, leave it in the hall. Miss Trevert can't be disturbed at
+present ..."
+
+"But ... but, sir," the butler protested. Then Robin noticed that he was
+trembling with excitement and that his features were all distraught.
+
+"What's the matter with you, Bude?" Robin demanded.
+
+Humphries had stood on one side and Robin now faced the butler.
+
+"It's a letter from ... that Jeekes!" faltered Bude, holding out a
+salver. "I know his writing, sir!"
+
+"For Miss Trevert?"
+
+Robin gathered up the plain white envelope. It bore a Dutch stamp. The
+postmark was Rotterdam. He gave the letter to Mary. It was bulky and
+heavy.
+
+"For you," he said, and stood beside her while she broke the seal. By
+this they had all gathered round her.
+
+The envelope fluttered to the floor. Mary was unfolding a wad of sheets
+of writing-paper folded once across. She glanced at the topmost sheet,
+then handed the bundle to Robin.
+
+"It's a confession!" she said.
+
+From beyond the grave the little secretary had spoken and spoiled Mr.
+Manderton's _d�nouement_.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+THE DEATH OF HARTLEY PARRISH
+
+
+"For Miss Trevert."
+
+Thus, in Jeekes's round and flowing commercial hand, the document began:
+
+  Last Statement of Albert Edward Jeekes, made at
+  Rotterdam, this twenty-first Day of January, in the
+  Year of Our Lord One Thousand Nine Hundred
+  and...
+
+Mr. Bardy, the solicitor, to whom, by common consent, the reading of the
+confession had been entrusted, raised his eyebrows, thereby letting his
+eyeglass fall, and looked round at the company.
+
+"Pon my soul," he remarked, "for a man about to take his own life, our
+friend seems to have been the coolest customer imaginable. Look at it!
+Written in a firm hand and almost without an erasure. Very remarkable!
+Very remarkable, indeed!..."
+
+"Hm!" grunted Mr. Manderton, "not so uncommon as you suppose, Mr. Bardy,
+sir. Hendriks, the Palmers Green poisoner, typed out his confession on
+cream inlaid paper before dosing himself. But let's hear what the
+gentleman has to tell us...."
+
+This was the last digression. Thenceforth Mr. Bardy read out the
+confession to the end without interruption.
+
+  _For Miss Trevert_:
+
+  _Madam_,
+
+  I slew, but I am not a murderer: I Killed, but
+  without deliberation.
+
+  Victor Marbran has gone and left me to meet a
+  shameful death. But I cannot face the scaffold. As
+  men go, I do not believe I am a coward and I am not
+  afraid to die. But the inexorable deliberation of
+  justice appals me. When I have written what I have
+  to write, I shall be hangman to myself. My pistol
+  they have taken away.
+
+  Victor Marbran has abandoned me. He had prepared
+  everything for his flight. Even if the law can
+  indict him as the virtual murderer of Hartley Parrish,
+  the law will never lay hands on him. Victor Marbran
+  neglects no detail. He will never be caught. But from
+  the Great Unknown for which I shall presently set
+  out, I shall stretch forth my hand and see that, here
+  or there, he does not escape the punishment he merits
+  for bringing down shame and disgrace upon me.
+
+  Just now he bade me stay in the office and finish
+  burning the papers in his desk. He promised he would
+  take me with him to a secure hiding-place which he
+  had made ready for some such emergency as this. I believed
+  him and, unsuspecting, stayed. And now he
+  has slipped away. He is gone and the house is empty.
+  I cannot follow him even did I know where he has
+  gone. I have only a very little money left and I am
+  tired. Very tired. I feel I cannot support the hue-and-cry
+  they will raise. Everything is still about me.
+  The quiet of the country is very soothing. To die like
+  this, with darkness falling and no sound but the
+  rustling rain, is the better way ...
+
+  Hartley Parrish was the man behind the great
+  syndicate which systematically ran the British blockade
+  of Germany in the war. He financed Marbran and
+  the international riff-raff of profiteers with whom Marbran
+  worked. Parrish supplied the funds, often the
+  goods as well,--at any rate, until they tightened up
+  the blockade,--while Marbran and the rest of the
+  bunch in neutral countries did the trading with the
+  enemy.
+
+  Parrish was a deep one. I say nothing against him.
+  He was a kind employer to me and I played him false,
+  for which I have been bitterly punished. To have
+  swindled Victor Marbran--I count it as nothing
+  against him, for that heartless, cruel man is deserving
+  of no pity ...
+
+  Parrish was the heart and soul, brains and muscle
+  of the syndicate. He lurked far in the background.
+  Any and every trail which might possibly lead back
+  to him was carefully effaced. He was secure as long
+  as Marbran and one or two other big men in the business
+  kept faith with him. Now and then, when the
+  British Intelligence were too hot on the trail, Parrish
+  and Marbran would give away one of the small fry
+  belonging to the organization and thus stave off suspicion.
+  They could do this in complete safety, for so
+  perfect was their organization that the small fry only
+  knew the small fry in the shallows and never the big
+  fish in the deep ...
+
+  But Hartley Parrish was in Marbran's hands. They
+  stood or fell together. Parrish knew this. But he was
+  a born gambler and insanely self-confident. He took a
+  chance with Marbran. It cost him his life.
+
+  All payments were made to Parrish. He was treasurer
+  and banker of the syndicate. Money came in by
+  all sorts of devious routes, sometimes from as far
+  afield as South or Central America. Parrish distributed
+  the profits. Everything was in his hands.
+
+  By the time the armistice came, the game had got
+  too hot. All the big fish except Marbran had cleared
+  out with their pile. But Marbran, like Parrish, was
+  a gambler. He stuck it out and stayed on.
+
+  Parrish played fair until the war was over. The
+  armistice, of course, put an end to the business. But
+  some months after the armistice a sum of �150,000
+  was paid to Parrish through a Spanish bank in settlement,
+  Marbran told me, for petrol indirectly delivered
+  to the German Admiralty. Parrish pouched the
+  lot. Not a penny did Marbran get.
+
+  Parrish and Marbran were old friends. They were
+  young men together on the Rand gold-fields in the
+  early days. In fact, I believe they went out to South
+  Africa together as penniless London lads. But Marbran
+  hated Parrish, though Parrish had, I believe,
+  been his benefactor in many ways. Marbran was
+  fiercely envious of the other because he realized that,
+  starting with an equal chance, Parrish had left him
+  far behind. Everything that Parrish touched prospered,
+  while Marbran was in perpetual financial
+  straits. He was Parrish's equal in courage, but not in
+  judgment.
+
+  Parrish calculated that Marbran would not dare to
+  denounce him. He had always taken the lead in their
+  schemes and he affected to disregard Marbran altogether.
+  So he left the latter's letters unanswered and
+  laughed at his threats. He was quite sure that Marbran
+  would never risk losing his pile by giving Parrish
+  away, for they were, of course, both British subjects
+  and both in it together ...
+
+  Marbran always distrusted Parrish, and long before
+  the breach came, he picked on me to act the spy on my
+  employer. I, too, was born a gambler, but, like Marbran,
+  I lacked the lucky touch which made Parrish a
+  millionaire. Speculation proved my ruin. I have often
+  thanked my God on my bended knees--as I shall do
+  again to-night before I pass over--that my insane
+  folly has ruined no one but myself ...
+
+  Already, when Hartley Parrish engaged me, I was
+  up to the neck in speculation. Up to that time, however,
+  I had managed to keep my head above water,
+  but the large salary on which Parrish started me
+  dazzled me. I tried a flutter in oil on a much larger
+  scale than anything I had hitherto attempted, with the
+  result that one day I found myself with a debt of
+  nine hundred pounds to meet and no assets to meet
+  it with. And I was two hundred pounds in debt to
+  Hartley Parrish's petty cash account, which I kept.
+
+  It was Victor Marbran who came to my rescue.
+  Parrish had sent me over to Rotterdam to fetch some
+  papers from Marbran. At this time I knew nothing of
+  Parrish's blockade-running business. Parrish never
+  took me into his confidence about it and the whole of
+  the correspondence went direct to him through a number
+  of secret channels with which I only gradually
+  became acquainted behind his back.
+
+  I had met Marbran several times in London and
+  also at Rotterdam. It had struck me that he had
+  formed a liking for me. On this particular visit to
+  Rotterdam Marbran took me out to dinner and encouraged
+  me to speak about myself. He was very
+  sympathetic, and this, coupled with the wine I had
+  taken, led me to open my heart to him. Without giving
+  myself away, I let him understand that I was in
+  considerable financial difficulties, which I set down to
+  the high cost of living as the result of the war.
+
+  Without a word of warning Marbran pulled out
+  his cheque-book.
+
+  "How much do you want," he asked, "to put you
+  straight?"
+
+  Nine hundred pounds, I told him.
+
+  He wrote the cheque at once there at the table. He
+  would advance me the money, he said, and put me
+  down for shares in a business in which he was interested.
+  It was a safe thing and profits were very high.
+  I could repay him at my leisure.
+
+  In this way I became a shareholder in Parrish's
+  blockade-running syndicate. The return I was to
+  make was to spy on my employer and to report to
+  Marbran the letters which Parrish received and the
+  names of the people whom he interviewed.
+
+  Of course, Marbran did not propose this plan at
+  once. When I took leave of him that night, I remember,
+  I all but broke down at the thought of his
+  unsolicited generosity. I have had a hard life, Miss
+  Trevert, and his seeming kindness broke me all up.
+  But I might have known.
+
+  I cashed Marbran's cheque and put back the two
+  hundred pounds I had taken from the petty cash account.
+  But I went on speculating. You see, I did
+  not believe Marbran's story about the shares he said
+  he would put me down for. I thought it was a charitable
+  tale to spare my feelings. So I plunged once
+  more in the confident hope of recovering enough to
+  repay my debt to Marbran.
+
+  A month later Marbran sent me a cheque for one
+  hundred pounds. He said it was the balance of fifteen
+  hundred pounds due to me as profits on my shares
+  less the nine hundred pounds I owed him and five
+  hundred pounds for my shares. But my speculations
+  had by this time gone wrong again, and I was heartily
+  glad presently to receive a further cheque for two
+  hundred pounds from Marbran. From that time on I
+  got from Marbran sums varying between one hundred
+  and fifty pounds and five hundred pounds a month.
+
+  When Marbran made me his shameful offer, I rejected
+  it with indignation. But I was fast in the trap.
+  Marbran explained to me in great detail and with the
+  utmost candour the working of the Parrish syndicate.
+  He let me know very plainly that I was as deeply
+  implicated as Parrish and he. I was a shareholder;
+  I had received and was receiving my share of the
+  profits. In my distress and shame I threatened to
+  expose the pair of them. Had I known the source of
+  his money, I told him, I should never have accepted it.
+  At that Marbran laughed contemptuously.
+
+  "You tell that yarn to the police," he sneered,
+  "and hear what they say!"
+
+  And then I realized that I was in the net.
+
+  I make no excuses for myself. I shall make none
+  to the Great Judge before whom in a little while I
+  shall appear. I had not the moral force to resist Marbran.
+  I did his bidding: I continued to take his
+  money and I held my peace.
+
+  And then came the breach between Parrish and
+  Marbran. I was the cause of it. But for me, his
+  trusty spy, Marbran would have known nothing of
+  this payment of �150,000 which Parrish received
+  from Spain, and this tragedy would not have happened.
+  God forgive me ...
+
+  Marbran appealed to Parrish in vain. What he
+  wrote I never knew, for, shortly after, Parrish quietly
+  and without any explanation took the confidential
+  work out of my hands. I believe he suspected then
+  who Marbran's spy was. But he said nothing to me
+  of his suspicions at that time ...
+
+  Finally, Marbran came to London. It was on Tuesday
+  of last week. I had been up in Sheffield on business,
+  and on my return I found Marbran waiting for
+  me at my rooms.
+
+  He was like a man possessed. Never before have I
+  witnessed such an outburst of ungovernable rage. Parrish,
+  it appears, had declined to see him. He swore
+  that Parrish should not get the better of him if he had
+  to kill him first. I can see Marbran now as he sat on
+  my bed, his livid face distorted with fury.
+
+  "I'll give him a last chance," he cried, "and then,
+  by God, let our smart Alec look out!"
+
+  This sort of talk frightened me. I knew Marbran
+  meant mischief. He was a bad man to cross. I was desperately
+  afraid he would waylay Parrish and bring
+  down disaster on the three of us. I did my utmost to
+  put the idea of violence out of his mind. I begged
+  him to content himself with trying to frighten Parrish
+  into paying up before trying other means.
+
+  My suggestion seemed to awaken some old memory
+  in Marbran's mind.
+
+  "By Gad, Jeekes," he said, after a moment's
+  thought, "you've given me an idea. Parrish has a
+  yellow streak. He's scared of a gun. I saw it once,
+  years ago, in a roughhouse we got into at Krugersdorp
+  on the Rand. Damn it, I know how to bring the yellow
+  dog to heel, and I'll tell you how we'll do it ..."
+
+  He then unfolded his plan. He would send Parrish
+  a last demand for a settlement, threatening him with
+  death if he did not pay up. The warning would reach
+  Parrish on the following Saturday. Marbran would
+  contrive that he should receive it by the first post.
+  As soon as possible thereafter I was to go to Parrish
+  boldly and demand his answer.
+
+  "And you'll take a gun," Marbran said, peering
+  at me with his cunning little eyes, "and you'll show it.
+  And if at the sight of it you don't get the brass, then
+  I don't know my old pal, Mister Hartley Parrish,
+  Esquire!"
+
+  The proposal appalled me. I knew nothing of
+  Hartley Parrish's "yellow streak." I knew him only
+  as a hard and resolute man, swift in decision and ruthless
+  in action. Whatever happened, I argued, Parrish
+  would discharge me and there was every prospect of
+  his handing me over to the police as well.
+
+  Marbran was deaf to my reasoning. I had nothing
+  to fear, he protested. Parrish would collapse at the
+  first sign of force. And as for my losing my job, Marbran
+  would find me another and a better one in his
+  office at Rotterdam.
+
+  Still I held out. The chance of losing my position,
+  even of being sent to gaol, daunted me less, I think,
+  than the admission to Parrish of the blackly ungrateful
+  role I had played towards him. In the end I told
+  Marbran to do his dirty work himself.
+
+  But I spoke without conviction. I realized that Marbran
+  held me in a cleft stick and that he realized it,
+  too. He wasted no further time in argument. I knew
+  what I had to do, he said, and I would do it. Otherwise ...
+
+  He left me in an agony of mental stress. At that
+  time, I swear to Heaven, Miss Trevert, I was determined
+  to let Marbran do his worst rather than lend
+  myself to this odious blackmailing trick, my own
+  suggestion, as I bitterly remembered. But for the rest
+  of the week his parting threat rang in my ears. Unless
+  he heard by the following Sunday that I had
+  confronted Parrish and called his bluff, as he put it,
+  the British police should have word, not only of Parrish's
+  activities in trading with the enemy, but of
+  mine as well.
+
+  It was no idle threat. Parrish and Marbran had
+  put men away before. I could give you the names ...
+
+  It is quite dark now. It must be an hour since
+  Greve took you away. Soon he will be back with the
+  police to arrest me and I must have finished by then,
+  finished with the story, finished with life ...
+
+  Last week I worked at Parrish's city office. I told
+  you how he kept me off his confidential work. On
+  Saturday morning I went round to the house in St.
+  James's Square to see whether Marbran had really
+  sent his warning. Archer, my colleague, who was acting
+  as confidential secretary in my stead, was there.
+  Parrish was at Harkings, he told me. Archer was
+  going down by car that morning with his mail. It
+  included two "blue letters" which Archer would, according
+  to orders, hand to Parrish unopened.
+
+  These "blue letters," as we secretaries used to call
+  them, written on a striking bluish paper, were the
+  means by which all communications passed between
+  Parrish and Marbran on the syndicate's business.
+  They were drafted in conventional code and came to
+  Parrish from all parts of Europe and in all kinds of
+  ways. No one saw them except himself. By his strict
+  injunctions, they were to be opened only by himself
+  in person.
+
+  When Archer told me that two "blue letters" had
+  come, I knew that Marbran had kept his word. Though
+  my mind was not made up, instinct told me I was
+  going to play my part ...
+
+  I could not face the shame of exposure. I was
+  brought up in a decent English home. To stand in
+  the dock charged with prolonging the sufferings of
+  our soldiers and sailors in order to make money was
+  a prospect I could not even contemplate.
+
+  I thought it all out that Saturday morning as I
+  stood at the dressing-table in my bedroom by the open
+  drawer in which my automatic pistol lay. It was one
+  given me by Parrish some years before at a time
+  when he thought we might be going on a trip to
+  Rumania ...
+
+  I slipped the pistol into my pocket. I felt like a man
+  in a dream. I believe I went down to Harkings by
+  train, but I have no clear recollection of the journey.
+  I seemed to come to my senses only when I found
+  myself standing on the high bank of the rosery at
+  Harkings, looking down upon the library window.
+
+  Outside in the gardens it was nearly dark, but from
+  the window fell a stream of subdued light. The curtains
+  had not been drawn and the window was open
+  at the bottom. Parrish sat at the desk. Only the desk-lamp
+  was lit, so that his face was in shadow, but
+  his two hands, stretched out on the blotter in front
+  of him, lay in a pool of light, and I caught the gleam
+  of his gold signet ring.
+
+  He was not writing or working. He seemed to be
+  thinking. I watched him in a fascinated sort of way.
+  I had never seen him sit thus idly at his desk before ...
+
+  My brain worked quite lucidly now. As I looked
+  at him, I suddenly realised that I had a golden opportunity
+  for speaking to him unobserved. The gardens
+  were absolutely deserted: the library wing was very
+  still. If he were a man to be frightened into submission,
+  my sudden appearance, following upon the receipt
+  of the threatening letter, would be likely to help
+  in achieving this result.
+
+  I walked softly down the steps to the window. I
+  stood close up to the sill.
+
+  "Mr. Parrish," I said, "Victor Marbran has sent
+  me for his answer."
+
+  In a flash he was on his feet.
+
+  "Who's there?" he cried out in alarm.
+
+  His voice shook, and I could see his hand tremble
+  in the lamplight as he clutched at the desk. Then I
+  knew that he was badly frightened, and the discovery
+  gave me courage.
+
+  "Are you going to settle with Marbran or are you
+  not?" I said.
+
+  At that he peered forward. All of a sudden his
+  manner changed.
+
+  "What in hell does this mean, Jeekes?"
+
+  His voice quavered no longer. It was hard and
+  menacing.
+
+  But I had burnt my boats behind me now.
+
+  "It means," I answered boldly, "that you've got
+  to pay up. And you've got to pay up now!"
+
+  In a couple of quick strides he was round the desk
+  and coming at me as I stood with my chest pressing
+  against the window-sill. His hands were thrust in his
+  jacket pockets. His face was red with anger.
+
+  "You dawggorn dirty little rathole spy,"--he spat
+  the words at me in a low, threatening voice,--"I
+  guessed that lowdown skunk Marbran had been getting
+  at some of my people!"
+
+  His voice rose in a sudden gust of passion.
+
+  "You rotten little worm! You'd try and bounce
+  me, would you? You've come to the wrong shop for
+  that, Mr. Spying Jeekes ..."
+
+  His manner was incredibly insulting. So was the
+  utter contempt with which he looked at me. This
+  man, who had trembled with fear at the unknown, recovered
+  his self-control on finding that the menace
+  came from the menial, the hireling, he despised. I felt
+  the blood rush in a hot flood to my head. I lost all
+  self-control. I screamed aloud at him.
+
+  "There's no bounce about it this time! If you
+  don't pay up, you know what to expect!"
+
+  I had been holding my pistol out of his sight below
+  the window-ledge, but on this I swung it up and
+  levelled it at him.
+
+  He sprang back a pace, the colour fading on the
+  instant from his face, his mouth twisted awry in a
+  horrid paroxysm of fear. Even in that subdued light
+  I could see that his cheeks were as white as paper.
+
+  But then in a flash his right hand went up. I saw
+  the pistol he held, but before I could make a movement
+  there was a loud, raucous hiss of air and a
+  bullet whistled past my ear into the darkness of the
+  gardens. How he missed me at that range I don't
+  know, but, seeing me standing there, he came at me
+  again with the pistol in his hand ...
+
+  And then you, Miss Trevert, cried out, "Hartley,"
+  and rattled the handle of the door. Your cry merged
+  in a deafening report. Parrish, who was quite close
+  to me, and advancing, stopped short with a little
+  startled exclamation, his eyes reproachful, full of
+  surprise. He stood there and swayed, looking at me
+  all the time, then crashed backwards on the floor. And
+  I found myself staring at the smoking pistol in my
+  hand ...
+
+  It was your scream that brought me to my senses.
+  My mind cleared instantly. I knew I must act quickly.
+  The house would be alarmed directly, and before that
+  happened, I must be clear of the grounds. Yet I
+  knew that before I went I must do something to make
+  myself safe ...
+
+  I stood at the window staring down at the dead
+  man. His eyes were terrible. Like a suicide he looked,
+  I thought. And then it flashed across my mind that
+  only one shot had been heard and that our pistols
+  were identical and fired the same ammunition. The
+  silencer! The silencer could save me. With that
+  removed, the suicide theory might pass muster: at any
+  rate, it would delay other investigations and give me
+  a start ...
+
+  In a matter of a second or two I believe I thought
+  of everything. I did not overlook the danger of leaving
+  finger-prints or foot-marks about. I had not
+  taken off my gloves, and my boots were perfectly dry.
+  In climbing into the room I was most careful to see
+  that I did not mark the window-sill or scratch the
+  paintwork ...
+
+  I stood beside the body and I caught the dead man's
+  hand. It was fat and soft and still warm. The touch
+  of it made me reel with horror. I turned my face
+  away from his so as not to see his eyes again....
+
+  I got the silencer. Parrish had shown it to me and I
+  knew how to detach it....
+
+  I went back through the window as carefully as I
+  had come in. And I pushed the window down. Parrish
+  would have done that, I thought, if he had meant
+  to commit suicide. And then my nerve went. The window
+  frightened me. The blank glass with the silent
+  room beyond;--it reminded me of Parrish's sightless
+  gaze. I turned and ran....
+
+  I did not mean to kill. As there is a God in ...
+
+On that unfinished sentence the confession
+ended.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. Bardy put the bundle of manuscript down on the desk and, dropping
+his eyeglass from his eye, caught it deftly and began to polish it
+vigorously with his pocket handkerchief. As no one spoke, he said:
+
+"That's all. It ends there!"
+
+He looked round the circle of earnest faces. Then Horace Trevert
+crossed to the desk.
+
+"Robin," he said, and held out his hand, "I want to apologize. I ...
+we ... behaved very badly ..."
+
+Robin grasped the boy's hand.
+
+"Not a word about that, Horace, old boy," he said. "Besides, Mary is
+putting all that right, you know!"
+
+"She told me," replied Horace; "and, Robin, I'm tremendously glad!"
+
+"Mr. Greve!"
+
+Robin turned to find Mr. Manderton, large and impressive, at his elbow.
+
+"Might I have a word with you?"
+
+Robin followed the detective across the room to the window.
+
+Mr. Manderton seemed a trifle embarrassed.
+
+"Er--- Mr. Greve," he said, clearing his throat rather nervously, "I
+should like to--er,--offer you my congratulations on the remarkably
+accurate view you took of this case. I should have been able to prove to
+you, I believe, but for this curious interruption, that your view and
+mine practically coincided. It has been a pleasure to work with you,
+sir!"
+
+He cast a hasty glance over his shoulder at the other occupants of the
+room, who were gathered round the desk.
+
+"I'm not a society man, Mr. Greve," he added, "and I have a lot of work
+on my hands regarding the case. So I think I'll run off now ..."
+
+He broke off, gave Robin a large hand, and, looking neither to right nor
+to left, made a hurried exit from the room, taking Inspector Humphries
+with him.
+
+"Now that we are just among ourselves"--the solicitor was speaking--"I
+think I may seize the opportunity of saying a word about Mr. Parrish's
+will. Miss Trevert, as you know, is made principal legatee, but I
+understand from her that she does not propose to accept the inheritance.
+I will not comment on this decision of hers, which does her moral sense,
+at any rate, infinite credit, but I should observe that Mr. Parrish has
+left directions for the payment of an allowance--I may say, a most
+handsome allowance--to Lady Margaret Trevert during her ladyship's
+lifetime. This is a provision over which Miss Trevert's decision, of
+course, can have no influence. I would only remark that, according to
+Mr. Parrish's instructions, this allowance will be paid from the
+dividends on a percentage of his holdings in Hornaway's under the new
+scheme. I have not yet had an opportunity of looking further into Mr.
+Parrish's affairs in the light of the information which Mr. Greve
+obtained in Rotterdam, but I have reason to believe that he kept his
+interest in Hornaway's and his--ahem!--other activities entirely
+separate. If this can be definitely established to my own satisfaction
+and to yours, my dear Miss Trevert, I see no reason why you should not
+modify your decision at least in respect of Mr. Parrish's interest in
+Hornaway's."
+
+Mary Trevert looked at Robin and then at the solicitor.
+
+"No!" she said; "not a penny as far as I am concerned. With Mother the
+case is different. I told her last night of my decision in the matter.
+She disapproves of it. That is why she is not here to-day. But my mind
+is made up."
+
+Mr. Bardy adjusted his eyeglass in his eye and gazed at the girl. His
+face wore an expression of pain mingled with compassion.
+
+"I will see Lady Margaret after lunch," he said rather stiffly.
+
+Then the door opened and Bude appeared.
+
+"Luncheon is served, Miss!"
+
+He stood there, a portly, dignified figure in sober black, solemn of
+visage, sonorous of voice, a living example of the triumph of
+established tradition over the most savage buffetings of Fate. His
+enunciation was, if anything, more mellow, his demeanour more pontifical
+than of yore.
+
+Bude was once more in the service of a County Family.
+
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Yellow Streak, by Valentine Williams
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Yellow Streak, by Valentine Williams
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Yellow Streak
+
+Author: Valentine Williams
+
+Release Date: November 13, 2010 [EBook #9974]
+[Last updated: July 19, 2011]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW STREAK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Dave Morgan and the PG
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE YELLOW STREAK
+
+BY VALENTINE WILLIAMS
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+      I. THE MASTER OF HARKINGS
+     II. AT TWILIGHT
+    III. A DISCOVERY
+     IV. BETWEEN THE DESK AND THE WINDOW
+      V. IN WHICH BUDE LOOKS AT ROBIN GREVE
+     VI. THE LETTER
+    VII. VOICES IN THE LIBRARY
+   VIII. ROBIN GOES TO MARY
+     IX. MR. MANDERTON
+      X. A SMOKING CHIMNEY
+     XI. "... SPEED THE PARTING GUEST!"
+    XII. MR. MANDERTON is NONPLUSSED
+   XIII. JEEKES
+    XIV. A SHEET OF BLUE PAPER
+     XV. SHADOWS
+    XVI. THE INTRUDER
+   XVII. A FRESH CLUE
+  XVIII. THE SILENT SHOT
+    XIX. MR. MANDERTON LAYS HIS CARDS ON THE TABLE
+     XX. THE CODE KING
+    XXI. A WORD WITH MR. JEEKES
+   XXII. THE MAN WITH THE YELLOW FACE
+  XXIII. TWO'S COMPANY
+   XXIV. THE METAMORPHOSIS OF MR. SCHULZ
+    XXV. THE READING OF THE RIDDLE
+   XXVI. THE FIGURE IN THE DOORWAY
+  XXVII. AN INTERRUPTION FROM BEYOND
+ XXVIII. THE DEATH OF HARTLEY PARRISH
+
+
+
+
+THE YELLOW STREAK
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE MASTER OF HARKINGS
+
+
+Of all the luxuries of which Hartley Parrish's sudden rise to wealth
+gave him possession, Bude, his butler, was the acquisition in which he
+took the greatest delight and pride. Bude was a large and
+comfortable-looking person, triple-chinned like an archdeacon,
+bald-headed except for a respectable and saving edging of dark down,
+clean-shaven, benign of countenance, with a bold nose which to the
+psychologist bespoke both ambition and inborn cleverness. He had a
+thin, tight mouth which in itself alone was a symbol of discreet
+reticence, the hall-mark of the trusted family retainer.
+
+
+Bude had spent his life in the service of the English aristocracy. The
+Earl of Tipperary, Major-General Lord Bannister, the Dowager Marchioness
+of Wiltshire, and Sir Herbert Marcobrunner, Bart., had in turn watched
+his gradual progress from pantry-boy to butler. Bude was a man whose
+maxim had been the French saying, "_Je prends mon bien ou je le
+trouve_."
+
+In his thirty years' service he had always sought to discover and draw
+from those sources of knowledge which were at his disposal. From
+MacTavish, who had supervised Lord Tipperary's world-famous gardens, he
+had learnt a great deal about flowers, so that the arrangement of the
+floral decorations was always one of the features at Hartley Parrish's
+_soigne_ dinner-parties. From Brun, the unsurpassed _chef_, whom Lord
+Bannister had picked up when serving with the Guards in Egypt, he had
+gathered sufficient knowledge of the higher branches of the cuisine to
+enable Hartley Parrish to leave the arrangement of the menu in his
+butler's hands.
+
+Bude would have been the first to admit that, socially speaking, his
+present situation was not the equal of the positions he had held. There
+was none of the staid dignity about his present employer which was
+inborn in men like Lord Tipperary or Lord Bannister, and which Sir
+Herbert Marcobrunner, with the easy assimilative faculty of his race,
+had very successfully acquired. Below middle height, thick-set and
+powerfully built, with a big head, narrow eyes, and a massive chin,
+Hartley Parrish, in his absorbed concentration on his business, had no
+time for the acquisition or practice of the Eton manner.
+
+It was characteristic of Parrish that, seeing Bude at a dinner-party at
+Marcobrunner's, he should have engaged him on the spot. It took Bude a
+week to get over his shock at the manner in which the offer was made.
+Parrish had approached him as he was supervising the departure of the
+guests. Waving aside the footman who offered to help him into his
+overcoat, Parrish had asked Bude point-blank what wages he was getting.
+Bude mentioned the generous remuneration he was receiving from Sir
+Herbert Marcobrunner, whereupon Parrish had remarked:
+
+"Come to me and I'll double it. I'll give you a week to think it over.
+Let my secretary know!"
+
+After a few discreet enquiries, Bude, faithful to his maxim, had
+accepted Parrish's offer. Marcobrunner was furiously angry, but, being
+anxious to interest Parrish in a deal, sagely kept his feelings to
+himself. And Bude had never regretted the change. He found Parrish an
+exacting, but withal a just and a generous master, and he was not long
+in realizing that, as long as he kept Harkings, Parrish's country place
+where he spent the greater part of his time, running smoothly according
+to Parrish's schedule, he could count on a life situation.
+
+The polish of manner, the sober dignity of dress, acquired from years of
+acute observation in the service of the nobility, were to be seen as, at
+the hour of five, in the twilight of this bleak autumn afternoon, Bude
+moved majestically into the lounge-hall of Harkings and leisurely
+pounded the gong for tea.
+
+The muffled notes of the gong swelled out brazenly through the silent
+house. They echoed down the softly carpeted corridors to the library
+where the master of the house sat at his desk. For days he had been
+immersed in the figures of the new issue which Hornaway's, the vast
+engineering business of his creation, was about to put on the market.
+They reverberated up the fine old oak staircase to the luxurious Louis
+XV bedroom, where Lady Margaret Trevert lay on her bed idly smiling
+through an amusing novel. They crashed through the thickly padded baize
+doors leading to the servants' hall, where, at sixpence a hundred,
+Parrish's man, Jay, was partnering Lady Margaret's maid against Mrs.
+Heever, the housekeeper, and Robert, the chauffeur, at a friendly game
+of bridge. And they even boomed distantly into the far-away
+billiard-room and broke into the talk which Robin Greve was having with
+Mary Trevert.
+
+"Damn!" exclaimed Greve savagely, as the distant gonging came to his
+ears.
+
+"It's the gong for tea," said Mary demurely.
+
+She was sitting on one of the big leather sofas lining the long room.
+Robin, as he gazed down at her from where he stood with his back against
+the edge of the billiard-table, thought what an attractive picture she
+made in the half-light.
+
+The lamps over the table were lit, but the rest of the room was almost
+dark. In that lighting the thickly waving dark hair brought out the fine
+whiteness of the girl's skin. There was love, and a great desire for
+love, in her large dark eyes, but the clear-cut features, the
+well-shaped chin, and the firm mouth, the lips a little full, spoke of
+ambition and the love of power.
+
+"I've been here three whole days," said Robin, "and I've not had two
+words with you alone, Mary. And hardly have I got you to myself for a
+quiet game of pills when that rotten gong goes ..."
+
+"I'm sorry you're disappointed at missing your game," the girl replied
+mischievously, "but I expect you will be able to get a game with Horace
+or one of the others after tea ..."
+
+Robin kicked the carpet savagely.
+
+"You know perfectly well I don't want to play billiards ..."
+
+He looked up and caught the girl's eye. For a fraction of a second he
+saw in it the expression which every man at least once in his life looks
+to see in the eyes of one particular woman. In the girl's dark-blue eyes
+fringed with long black lashes he saw the dumb appeal, the mute
+surrender, which, as surely as the white flag on the battlements in war,
+is the signal of capitulation in woman.
+
+But the expression was gone on the instant. It passed so swiftly that,
+for a second, Robin, seeing the gently mocking glance that succeeded it,
+wondered whether he had been mistaken.
+
+But he was a man of action--a glance at his long, well-moulded head, his
+quick, wide-open eye, and his square jaw would have told you that--and
+he spoke.
+
+"It's no use beating about the bush," he said. "Mary, I've got so fond
+of you that I'm just miserable when you're away from me ..."
+
+"Oh, Robin, please ..."
+
+Mary Trevert stood up and remained standing, her head turned a little
+away from him, a charming silhouette in her heather-blue shooting-suit.
+
+The young man took her listless hand.
+
+"My dear," he said, "you and I have been pals all our lives. It was
+only at the front that I began to realize just how much you meant to me.
+And now I know I can't do without you. I've never met any one who has
+been to me just what you are. And, Mary, I must have you as my wife ..."
+
+The girl remained motionless. She kept her face averted. The room seemed
+very still.
+
+"Oh, Robin, please ..." she murmured again.
+
+Resolutely the young man put an arm about her and drew her to him.
+Slowly, reluctantly, she let him have his way. But she would not look at
+him.
+
+"Oh, my dear," he whispered, kissing her hair, "don't you care a
+little?"
+
+She remained silent.
+
+"Won't you look at me, Mary?"
+
+There was a hint of huskiness in his voice. He raised her face to his.
+
+"I saw in your eyes just now that you cared for me," he whispered; "oh,
+my Mary, say that you do!"
+
+Then he bent down and kissed her. For a brief instant their lips met and
+he felt the caress of the girl's arm about his neck.
+
+"Oh, Robin!" she said.
+
+That was all.
+
+But then she drew away.
+
+Reluctantly the man let her go. The colour had faded from his cheeks
+when she looked at him again as he stood facing her in the twilight of
+the billiard-room.
+
+"Robin, dear," she said, "I'm going to hurt you."
+
+The young man seemed to have had a premonition of what was coming, for
+he betrayed no sign of surprise, but remained motionless, very erect,
+very pale.
+
+"Dear," said the girl with a little despairing shrug, "it's hopeless! We
+can't afford to marry!"
+
+"Not yet, I know," said Robin, "but I'm getting on well, Mary, and in
+another year or two ..."
+
+The girl looked down at the point of her little brogue shoe.
+
+"I don't know what you will think of me," she said, "but I can't
+accept ... I can't face ... I ..."
+
+"You can't face the idea of being the wife of a man who has his way to
+make. Is that it?"
+
+The voice was rather stern.
+
+The girl looked up impulsively.
+
+"I can't, Robin. I should never make you happy. Mother and I are as poor
+as church-mice. All the money in the family goes to keep Horace in the
+Army and pay for my clothes."
+
+She looked disdainfully at her pretty suit.
+
+"All this," she went on with a little hopeless gesture indicating her
+tailor-made, "is Mother's investment. No, no, it's true ... I can tell
+you as a friend, Robin, dear, we are living on our capital until I have
+caught a rich husband ..."
+
+"Oh, my dear," said Robin softly, "don't say things like that ..."
+
+The girl laughed a little defiantly.
+
+"But it's true," she answered. "The war has halved Mother's income and
+there's nothing between us and bankruptcy but a year or so ... unless I
+get married!"
+
+Her voice trembled a little and she turned away.
+
+"Mary," said the young man hoarsely, "for God's sake, don't do that!"
+
+He moved a step towards her, but she drew back.
+
+"It's all right," she said with the tears glistening wet on her face,
+and dabbed at her eyes with her tiny handkerchief, "but, oh, Robin boy,
+why couldn't you have held your tongue?"
+
+"I suppose I had no right to speak ..." the young man began.
+
+The girl sighed.
+
+"I oughtn't to say it ... now," she said slowly, and looked across at
+Robin with shining eyes, "but, Robin dear, I'm ... I'm glad you did!"
+
+She paused a moment as though turning something over in her mind.
+
+"I've ... I've got something to tell you, Robin," she began. "No, stay
+where you are! We must be sensible now."
+
+She paused and looked at him.
+
+"Robin," she said slowly, "I've promised to marry somebody else ..."
+
+There was a moment's silence.
+
+"Who is it?" Robin asked in a hard voice.
+
+The girl made no answer.
+
+"Who is it? Do I know him?"
+
+Still the girl was silent, but she gave a hardly perceptible nod.
+
+"Not ...? No, no, Mary, it isn't true? It can't be true?"
+
+The girl nodded, her eyes to the ground.
+
+"It's a secret still," she said. "No one knows but Mother. Hartley
+doesn't want it announced yet!"
+
+The sound of the Christian name suddenly seemed to infuriate Greve.
+
+"By God!" he cried, "it shan't be! You must be mad, Mary, to think of
+marrying a man like Hartley Parrish. A fellow who's years older than
+you, who thinks of nothing but money, who stood out of the war and made
+a fortune while men of his own age were doing the fighting for him! It's
+unthinkable ... it's ... it's damnable to think of a gross, ill-bred
+creature like Parrish ..."
+
+"Robin!" the girl cried, "you seem to forget that we're staying in his
+house. In spite of all you say he seems to be good enough for you to
+come and stay with ..."
+
+"I only came because you were to be here. You know that perfectly well.
+I admit one oughtn't to blackguard one's host, but, Mary, you must see
+that this marriage is absolutely out of the question!"
+
+The girl began to bridle up,
+
+"Why?" she asked loftily.
+
+"Because ... because Parrish is not the sort of man who will make you
+happy ..."
+
+"And why not, may I ask? He's very kind and very generous, and I believe
+he likes me ..."
+
+Robin Greve made a gesture of despair.
+
+"My dear girl," he said, trying to control himself to speak quietly,
+"what do you know about this man? Nothing. But there are beastly stories
+circulating about his life ..."
+
+Mary Trevert laughed cynically.
+
+"My dear old Robin," she said, "they tell stories about every bachelor.
+And I hardly think you are an unbiassed judge ..."
+
+Robin Greve was pacing up and down the floor.
+
+"You're crazy, Mary," he said, stopping in front of her, "to dream you
+can ever be happy with a man like Hartley Parrish. The man's a ruthless
+egoist. He thinks of nothing but money and he's out to buy you just
+exactly as you ..."
+
+"As I am ready to sell myself!" the girl echoed. "And I _am_ ready,
+Robin. It's all very well for you to stand there and preach ideals at
+me, but I'm sick and disgusted at the life we've been leading for the
+past three years, hovering on the verge of ruin all the time, dunned by
+tradesmen and having to borrow even from servants ... yes, from old
+servants of the family ... to pay Mother's bridge debts. Mother's a good
+sort. Father spent all her money for her and she was brought up in
+exactly the same helpless way as she brought up me. I can do absolutely
+nothing except the sort of elementary nursing which we all learnt in the
+war, and if I don't marry well Mother will have to keep a boarding-house
+or do something ghastly like that. I'm not going to pretend that I'm
+thinking only of her, because I'm not. I can't face a long engagement
+with no prospects except castles in Spain. I don't mean to be callous,
+Robin, but I expect I am naturally hard. Hartley Parrish is a good sort.
+He's very fond of me, and he will see that Mother lives comfortably for
+the rest of her life. I've promised to marry him because I like him and
+he's a suitable match. And I don't see by what right you try and run him
+down to me behind his back! If it's jealousy, then it shows a very petty
+spirit!"
+
+Robin Greve stepped close up to Mary Trevert. His eyes were very angry
+and his jaw was set very square.
+
+"If you are determined to sell yourself to the highest bidder," he said,
+"I suppose there's no stopping you. But you're making a mistake. If
+Parrish were all you claim for him, you might not repent of his marriage
+so long as you did not care for somebody else. But I know you love me,
+and it breaks my heart to see you blundering into everlasting
+unhappiness ..."
+
+"At least Hartley will be able to keep me," the girl flashed out.
+Directly she had spoken she regretted her words.
+
+A red flush spread slowly over Robin Greve's face.
+
+Then he laughed drily.
+
+"You won't be the first woman he's kept!" he retorted, and stamped out
+of the billiard-room.
+
+The girl gave a little gasp. Then she reddened with anger.
+
+"How dare he?" she cried, stamping her foot; "how dare he?"
+
+She sank on the lounge and, burying her face in her hands, burst into
+tears.
+
+"Oh, Robin, Robin, dear!" she sobbed--incomprehensibly, for she was a
+woman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+AT TWILIGHT
+
+
+There is a delicious snugness, a charming lack of formality, about the
+ceremony of afternoon tea in an English country-house--it is much too
+indefinite a rite to dignify it by the name of meal--which makes it the
+most pleasant reunion of the day. For English country-house parties
+consist, for the most part, of a succession of meals to which the guests
+flock the more congenially as, in the interval, they have contrived to
+avoid one another's companionship.
+
+And so, scarcely had the last reverberation of Bude's measured gonging
+died away than the French window leading from the lounge-hall on to the
+terrace was pushed open and two of Hartley Parrish's guests emerged from
+the falling darkness without into the pleasant comfort of the firelit
+room.
+
+They were an oddly matched pair. The one was a tubby little man with
+short bristly grey hair and a short bristly grey moustache to match. His
+stumpy legs looked ridiculous in his baggy golf knickers of rough tweed,
+which he wore with gaiters extending half-way up his short, stout
+calves. As he came in, he slung off the heavy tweed shooting-cloak he
+had been wearing and placed it with his Homburg hat on a chair.
+
+This was Dr. Romain, whose name thus written seems indecently naked
+without the string of complementary initials indicative of the honours
+and degrees which years of bacteriological research had heaped upon him.
+His companion was a tall, slim, fair-haired young man, about as good a
+specimen of the young Englishman turned out by the English public school
+as one could find. He was extremely good-looking with a proud eye and
+finely chiselled features, but the suggestion of youth in his face and
+figure was countered by a certain poise, a kind of latent seriousness
+which contrasted strangely with the general cheery _insouciance_ of his
+type.
+
+A soldier would have spotted the symptoms at once, "Five years of war!"
+would have been his verdict--that long and strange entry into life of so
+many thousands of England's manhood which impressed the stamp of
+premature seriousness on all those who came through. And Captain Sir
+Horace Trevert, Bart., D.S.O., had gone from his famous school straight
+into a famous regiment, had won his decoration before he was twenty-one,
+and been twice wounded into the bargain.
+
+"Where's everybody?" queried the doctor, rubbing his hands at the
+blazing log-fire.
+
+"Robin and Mary went off to play billiards," said the young man, "and I
+left old Parrish after lunch settling down for an afternoon's work in
+the library ..."
+
+He crossed the room to the fire and stood with his back to the flame.
+
+"What a worker that man is!" ejaculated the doctor. "He had one of his
+secretaries down this morning with a car full of portfolios,
+blue-prints, specifications, and God knows what else. Parrish polished
+the whole lot off and packed the fellow back to London before mid-day.
+Some of Hornaway's people who were waiting went in next, and he was
+through with them by lunch-time!"
+
+Trevert wagged his head in admiration.
+
+"And he told me he wanted to have a quiet week-end!" he said. "That's
+why he has no secretary living in the house."
+
+"A quiet week-end!" repeated Romain drily. "Ye gods!"
+
+"He's a marvel for work," said the young man.
+
+"He certainly is," replied the doctor. "He's done wonders with
+Hornaway's. When he took the place over at the beginning of the war,
+they were telling me, it was a little potty concern making toy air guns
+or lead soldiers or something of the sort. And they never stop coining
+money now, it seems. Parrish must be worth millions ..."
+
+"Lucky devil!" said Trevert genially.
+
+"Ah!" observed the doctor sententiously, "but he's had to work for it,
+mark you! He's had the most extraordinary life, they tell me. He was at
+one period of his career a bartender on the Rand, a man was saying at
+the club the other day. But most of his life he's lived in Canada, I
+gather. He was telling us the other evening, before you and Mary came
+down, that he was once a brakeman on the Canadian Pacific Railway. He
+said he invested all his savings in books on engineering and read them
+in his brakeman's van on his trips across the Dominion. Ah! he's a fine
+fellow!"
+
+He lowered his voice discreetly.
+
+"And a devilish good match, eh, Horace?"
+
+The young man flushed slightly.
+
+"Yes," he said unwillingly.
+
+"A dam' good match for somebody," urged the doctor with a malicious
+twinkle in his eye.
+
+"Here, Doc," said Horace, suddenly turning on him, "you stick to your
+bugs and germs. What do you know about matchmaking, anyway?"
+
+Dr. Romain chuckled.
+
+"We bacteriologists are trained observers. One learns a lot watching the
+life and habits of the bacillus, Horace, my boy. And between ourselves,
+Parrish would be a lucky fellow if ..."
+
+Trevert turned to him. His face was quite serious, and there was a
+little touch of hauteur in his voice. He was the 17th Baronet.
+
+"My dear Doc," he said, "aren't you going a bit fast? Parrish is a very
+good chap, but one knows nothing about him ..."
+
+Sagely the doctor nodded his grizzled head.
+
+"That's true," he agreed. "He appears to have no relatives and nobody
+over here seems to have heard of him before the war. A man was saying at
+the Athenaeum the other day ..."
+
+Trevert touched his elbow. Bude had appeared, portly, imperturbable,
+bearing a silver tray set out with the appliances for tea.
+
+"Bude," cried Trevert, "don't tell me there are no tea-cakes again!"
+
+"On the contrairey, sir," answered the butler in the richly sonorous
+voice pitched a little below the normal register which he employed
+abovestairs, "the cook has had her attention drawn to it. There are
+tea-cakes, sir!"
+
+With a certain dramatic effect--for Bude was a trifle theatrical in
+everything he did--he whipped the cover off a dish and displayed a
+smoking pile of deliciously browned scones.
+
+"Bude," said Trevert, "when I'm a Field Marshal, I'll see you get the
+O.B.E. for this!"
+
+The butler smiled a nicely regulated three-by-one smile, a little
+deprecatory as was his wont. Then, like a tank taking a corner, he
+wheeled majestically and turned to cross the lounge. To reach the green
+baize door leading to the servants' quarters he had to cross the outer
+hall from which led corridors on the right and left. That on the right
+led to the billiard-room; that on the left to the big drawing-room with
+the library beyond.
+
+As Bude reached the great screen of tooled Spanish leather which
+separated a corner of the lounge from the outer hall, Robin Greve came
+hastily through the glass door of the corridor leading from the
+billiard-room. The butler with a pleasant smile drew back a little to
+allow the young man to pass, thinking he was going into the lounge for
+tea.
+
+"Tea is ..." he began, but abruptly ended the sentence on catching sight
+of the young man's face. For Robin, habitually so self-possessed, looked
+positively haggard. His face was set and there was a weary look in his
+eyes. The young man appeared so utterly different from his wonted self
+that Bude fairly stared at him.
+
+But Robin, without paying the least attention either to the butler or to
+the sound of voices in the lounge, strode across the outer hall and
+disappeared through the glass door of the corridor leading to the great
+drawing-room and the library.
+
+Bude stood an instant gazing after him in perplexity, then moved across
+the hall to the servants' quarters.
+
+In the meantime in the lounge the little doctor snapped the case of his
+watch and opined that he wanted his tea.
+
+"Where on earth has everybody got to? What's become of Lady Margaret? I
+haven't seen her since lunch...."
+
+That lady answered his question by appearing in person.
+
+Lady Margaret was tall and hard and glittering. Like so many
+Englishwomen of good family, she was so saturated with the traditions of
+her class that her manner was almost indistinguishable from that of a
+man. Well-mannered, broadminded, wholly cynical, and absolutely
+fearless, she went through life exactly as though she were following a
+path carefully taped out for her by a suitably instructed Providence.
+Somewhere beneath the mask of smiling indifference she presented so
+bravely to a difficult world, she had a heart, but so carefully did she
+hide it that Horace had only discovered it on a certain grey November
+morning when he had started out for the first time on active service.
+For ever afterwards a certain weighing-machine at Waterloo Station, by
+which he had had a startling vision of his mother standing with heaving
+bosom and tear-stained face, possessed in his mind the attributes of
+some secret and sacred shrine.
+
+But now she was cool and well-gowned and self-contained as ever.
+
+"What a perfectly dreadful day!" she exclaimed in her pleasant,
+well-bred voice. "Horace, you must positively go and see Henry
+What's-his-name in the Foreign Office and get me a passport for Cannes.
+The weather in England in the winter is incredibly exaggerated!"
+
+"At least," said the doctor, rubbing his back as he warmed himself at
+the fire, "we have fuel in England. Give me England, climate and all,
+but don't take away my fire. The sun doesn't shine on the Riviera at
+night, you know!"
+
+Lady Margaret busied herself at the tea-table with its fine Queen Anne
+silver and dainty yellow cups. It was the custom at Harkings to serve
+tea in the winter without other illumination than the light of the
+great log-fire that spat and leaped in the open hearth. Beyond the
+semi-circle of ruddy light the great lounge was all in darkness, and
+beyond that again was the absolute stillness of the English country on a
+winter's evening.
+
+And so with a gentle clatter of teacups and the accompaniment of
+pleasantly modulated voices they sat and chatted--Lady Margaret, who was
+always surprising in what she said, the doctor who was incredibly
+opinionated, and young Trevert, who like all of the younger generation
+was daringly flippant. He was airing his views on what he called "Boche
+music" when he broke off and cried:
+
+"Hullo, here's Mary! Mary, you owe me half a crown. Bude has come up to
+scratch and there are tea-cakes after ... but, I say, what on earth's
+the matter?"
+
+The girl had come into the room and was standing in the centre of the
+lounge in the ruddy glow of the fire. Her face was deathly pale and she
+was shuddering violently. She held her little cambric handkerchief
+crushed up into a ball to her lips. Her eyes were fixed, almost glazed,
+like one who walks in a trance.
+
+She stood like that for an instant surveying the group--Lady Margaret, a
+silver tea-pot in one hand, looking at her with uplifted brows. Horace,
+who in his amazement had taken a step forward, and the doctor at his
+side scrutinizing her beneath his shaggy eyebrows.
+
+"My dear Mary "--it was Lady Margaret's smooth and pleasant voice which
+broke the silence--"whatever is the matter? Have you seen a ghost!"
+
+The girl swayed a little and opened her lips as if to speak. A log,
+crashing from the fire into the grate, fell upon the silence of the
+darkening room. It seemed to break the spell.
+
+"Hartley!"
+
+The name came hoarsely from the girl. Everybody, except Lady Margaret,
+sprang to his feet It was the doctor who spoke first.
+
+"Miss Mary," he said, "you seem frightened, what ..."
+
+His voice was very soothing.
+
+Mary Trevert made a vague gesture towards the shadows about the
+staircase.
+
+"There ... in the library ... he's got the door locked ... there was a
+shot ..."
+
+Then she suddenly screamed aloud.
+
+In a stride both the doctor and her brother were by her side. But she
+motioned them away.
+
+"I'm frightened about Hartley," she said in a low voice, "please go at
+once and see what ... that shot ... and he doesn't answer!"
+
+"Come on, Doctor!"
+
+Horace Trevert was halfway to the big screen separating the lounge from
+the outer hall. As he passed the bell, he pressed it.
+
+"Send Bude to us, Mother, when he comes, please!" he called as he and
+the doctor hurried away.
+
+Lady Margaret had risen and stood, one arm about her daughter, on the
+Persian rug spread out before the cheerful fire. So the women stood in
+the firelight in Hartley Parrish's house, surrounded by all the
+treasures which his wealth had bought, and listened to the footsteps
+clattering away through the silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A DISCOVERY
+
+
+Harkings was not a large house. Some three hundred years ago it had been
+a farm, but in the intervening years successive owners had so altered it
+by pulling down and building on, that, when it passed into the
+possession of Hartley Parrish, little else than the open fireplace in
+the lounge remained to tell of the original farm. It was a queer,
+rambling house of only two stories whose elongated shape was accentuated
+by the additional wing which Hartley Parrish had built on.
+
+For the decoration of his country-house, Parrish had placed himself
+unreservedly in the hands of the firm entrusted with the work. Their
+architect was given _carte blanche_ to produce a house of character out
+of the rather dingy, out-of-date country villa which Harkings was when
+Hartley Parrish, attracted by the view from the gardens, first
+discovered it.
+
+The architect had gone to his work with a zest. He had ripped up walls
+and ceilings and torn down irrational matchwood partitions, discovering
+some fine old oak wainscot and the blackened roof-beams of the original
+farmstead. In the upshot he transformed Harkings into a very fair
+semblance of a late Jacobean house, fitted with every modern convenience
+and extremely comfortable. Furnished throughout with genuine "period"
+furniture, with fine dark oak panelling and parquet floors, it was
+altogether picturesque. Neither within nor without, it is true, would a
+connoisseur have been able to give it a date.
+
+But that did not worry Hartley Parrish. He loved a bargain and he had
+bought the house cheap. It was situated in beautiful country and was
+within easy reach by car of his town-house in St. James's Square where
+he lived for the greater part of the week. Last but not least Harkings
+was the casket enshrining a treasure, the realization of a lifelong
+wish. This was the library, Parrish's own room, designed by himself and
+furnished to his own individual taste.
+
+It stood apart from the rest of the house at the end of the wing which
+Parrish had constructed. The wing consisted of a single ground floor and
+contained the drawing-room--which was scarcely ever used, as both
+Parrish and his guests preferred the more congenial surroundings of the
+lounge--and the library. A long corridor panelled in oak led off the
+hall to the new wing. On to this corridor both the drawing-room and the
+library gave. Halfway down the corridor a small passage ran off. It
+separated the drawing-room from the library and ended in a door leading
+into the gardens at the back of the house.
+
+It was to the new wing that Horace Trevert and Dr. Romain now hastened.
+They hurried across the hall, where the big lamp of dulled glass threw a
+soft yellow light, and entered the corridor through the heavy oak door
+which shut it off from the hall. The corridor was wrapt in silence.
+Halfway down, where the small passage ran to the garden door, the
+electric light was burning.
+
+Horace Trevert ran down the corridor ahead of the doctor and was the
+first to reach the library door. He knocked sharply, then turned the
+handle. The door was locked.
+
+"Hartley!" he cried and rapped again. "Ha-a-artley! Open the door! It's
+me, Horace!"
+
+Again he knocked and rattled the handle. Not a sound came from the
+locked room. There was an instant's silence. Horace and the doctor
+exchanged an interrogatory look.
+
+From behind the closed door came the steady ticking of a clock. The
+silence was so absolute that both men heard it.
+
+Then the door at the end of the corridor was flung open and Bude
+appeared. He was running at a quick ambling trot, his heavy tread
+shaking the passage.
+
+"Oh? sir," he cried, "whatever is it? What has happened?"
+
+Horace spoke quickly, incisively.
+
+"Something's happened to Mr. Parrish, Bude," he said. "The door's locked
+and he doesn't answer. We'll have to break the door down."
+
+Bude shook his head.
+
+"It's solid oak, sir," he began.
+
+Then he raised his hand.
+
+"Pardon me, gentlemen," he said, as though an idea had struck him. "If
+we were to go out by the garden door here, we might get in through the
+window. We could break the glass if needs be!"
+
+"That's it!" exclaimed Horace. "Come on, Doctor!"
+
+He dashed down the corridor towards the little passage. The doctor laid
+a hand on Bude's arm.
+
+"One of us had better stay here," he said with a meaning glance at the
+closed door.
+
+The butler raised an affrighted face to his.
+
+"Go with Sir Horace, Bude," said the doctor. "I'll stay!"
+
+Outside in the gardens of Harkings it was a raw, damp evening,
+pitch-black now, with little gusts of wind which shook the naked bushes
+of the rosery. The garden door led by a couple of shallow steps on to a
+gravel path which ran all along the back of the house. The path extended
+right up to the wall of the house. On the other side it flanked the
+rosery.
+
+The glass door was banging to and fro in the night wind as Bude, his
+coat-collar turned up, hurried out into the darkness. The library, which
+formed the corner of the new wing, had two windows, the one immediately
+above the gravel path looking out over the rosery, the other round the
+corner of the house giving on the same path, beyond which ran a high
+hedge of clipped box surrounding the so-called Pleasure Ground, a plot
+of smooth grass with a sundial in the centre.
+
+A glow of light came from the library window, and in its radiance Bude
+saw silhouetted the tall, well-knit figure of young Trevert. As the
+butler came up, the boy raised something in his hand and there was a
+crash of broken glass.
+
+The curtains were drawn, but with the breaking of the window they began
+to flap about. With the iron grating he had picked up from the drain
+below the window young Trevert smashed the rest of the glass away, then
+thrust an arm through the empty window-frame, fumbling for the
+window-catch.
+
+"The catch is not fastened," he whispered, and with a resolute thrust he
+pushed the window up. The curtains leapt up wildly, revealing a glimpse
+of the pleasant, book-lined room. Both men from the darkness without saw
+Parrish's desk littered with his papers and his habitual chair beyond
+it, pushed back empty.
+
+Trevert turned an instant, a hand on the window-sill.
+
+"Bude," he said, "there's no one there!"
+
+"Best look and see, sir," replied the butler, his coat-tails flapping in
+the wind.
+
+Trevert hoisted himself easily on to the window-sill, knelt there for an
+instant, then thrust his legs over the sill and dropped into the room.
+As he did so he stumbled, cried aloud.
+
+Then the heavy grey curtains were flung back and the butler saw the
+boy's face, rather white, at the open window.
+
+"My God," he said slowly, "he's dead!"
+
+A moment later Dr. Romain, waiting in the corridor, heard the key turn
+in the lock of the library door. The door was flung open. Horace Trevert
+stood there, silhouetted in a dull glow of light from the room. He was
+pointing to the open window, beneath which Hartley Parrish lay on his
+back motionless.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+BETWEEN THE DESK AND THE WINDOW
+
+
+Hartley Parrish's library was a splendid room, square in shape, lofty
+and well proportioned. It was lined with books arranged in shelves of
+dark brown oak running round the four walls, but sunk level with them
+and reaching up to a broad band of perfectly plain white plasterwork.
+
+It was a cheerful, comfortable, eminently modern room, half library,
+half office. The oak was solid, but uncompromisingly new. The great
+leather armchairs were designed on modern lines--for comfort rather
+than for appearance. There were no pictures; but vases of chrysanthemums
+stood here and there about the room. A dictaphone in a case was in a
+corner, but beside it was a little table on which were set out some rare
+bits of old Chelsea. There was also a gramophone, but it was enclosed in
+a superb case of genuine old black-and-gold lacquer. The very books in
+their shelves carried on this contrast of business with recreation. For
+while one set of shelves contained row upon row of technical works,
+company reports, and all manner of business reference books bound in
+leather, on another were to be found the vellum-bound volumes of the
+Kelmscott Press.
+
+A sober note of grey or mole colour was the colour scheme of the room.
+The heavy pile carpet which stretched right up to the walls was of this
+quiet neutral shade: so were the easy-chairs, and the colour of the
+heavy curtains, which hung in front of the two high windows, was in
+harmony with the restful decorative scheme of the room.
+
+The massive oaken door stood opposite the window overlooking the
+rosery--the window through which Horace Trevert had entered. Parrish's
+desk was in front of this window, between it and the door in
+consequence. By the other window, which, as has been stated, looked out
+on the clipped hedge surrounding the Pleasure Ground, was the little
+table with the Chelsea china, the dictaphone, and one of the
+easy-chairs. The centre of the room was clear so that nothing lay
+between the door and the carved mahogany chair at the desk. Here, as
+they all knew, Parrish was accustomed to sit when working, his back to
+the door, his face to the window overlooking the rosery.
+
+The desk stood about ten feet from the window. On it was a large brass
+lamp which cast a brilliant circle of light upon the broad flat top of
+the desk with its orderly array of letter-trays, its handsome
+silver-edged blotter and silver and tortoise-shell writing
+appurtenances. By the light of this lamp Dr. Romain, looking from the
+doorway, saw that Hartley Parrish's chair was vacant, pushed back a
+little way from the desk. The rest of the room was wrapt in unrevealing
+half-light.
+
+"He's there by the window!"
+
+Horace was whispering to the doctor. Romain strode over to the desk and
+picked up the lamp. As he did so, his eyes fell upon the pale face of
+Hartley Parrish. He lay on his back in the space between the desk and
+the window. His head was flung back, his eyes, bluish-grey,--the narrow,
+rather expressionless eyes of the successful business man,--were wide
+open and fixed in a sightless stare, his rather full mouth, with its
+clean-shaven lips, was rigid and stern. With the broad forehead, the
+prominent brows, the bold, aggressive nose, and the square bony jaw, it
+was a fighter's face, a fine face save for the evil promise of that
+sensuous mouth. So thought the doctor with the swift psychological
+process of his trade.
+
+From the face his gaze travelled to the body. And then Romain could not
+repress an involuntary start, albeit he saw what he had half expected to
+see. The fleshy right hand of Hartley Parrish grasped convulsively an
+automatic pistol. His clutching index finger was crooked about the
+trigger and the barrel was pressed into the yielding pile of the carpet.
+His other hand with clawing fingers was flung out away from the body on
+the other side. One leg was stretched out to its fullest extent and the
+foot just touched the hem of the grey window curtains. The other leg was
+slightly drawn up.
+
+The doctor raised the lamp from the desk and, dropping on one knee,
+placed it on the ground beside the body. With gentle fingers he
+manipulated the eyes, opened the blue serge coat and waistcoat which
+Parrish was wearing. As he unbuttoned the waistcoat, he laid bare a dark
+red stain on the breast of the fine silk shirt. He opened shirt and
+under-vest, bent an ear to the still form, and then, with a little
+helpless gesture, rose to his feet.
+
+"Dead?" queried Trevert.
+
+Romain nodded shortly.
+
+"Shot through the heart!" he said.
+
+"He looked so ... so limp," the boy said, shrinking back a little, "I
+thought he was dead. But I never thought old Hartley would have done a
+thing like that ..."
+
+The doctor pursed up his lips as if to speak. But he remained silent for
+a moment. Then he said:
+
+"Horace, the police must be informed. We can do that on the telephone.
+This room must be left just as it is until they come. I can do nothing
+more for poor Hartley. And we shall have to tell the others. I'd better
+do that myself. I wonder where Greve is? I haven't seen him all the
+afternoon. As a barrister he should be able to advise us about--er, the
+technicalities: the police and all that ..."
+
+Rapid footsteps reverberated down the corridor. Robin Greve appeared at
+the door. The fat and frightened face of Bude appeared over his
+shoulder.
+
+"Good God, Doctor!" he cried, "what's this Bude tells me?"
+
+The doctor cleared his throat.
+
+"Our poor friend is dead, Greve," he said.
+
+"But how? How?"
+
+Greve stood opposite the doctor in the centre of the library. He had
+switched on the light at the door as he had come in, and the room was
+flooded with soft light thrown by concealed lamps set around the cornice
+of the ceiling.
+
+"Look!" responded the doctor by way of answer and stepped aside to let
+the young man come up to the desk. "He has a pistol in his hand!"
+
+Robin Greve took a step forward and stopped dead. He gazed for an
+instant without speaking on the dead face of his host and rival.
+
+"Suicide!"
+
+It was an affirmation rather than a question, and the little doctor took
+it up. He was not a young man and the shock and the excitement were
+beginning to tell on his nerves.
+
+"I am not a police surgeon," he said with some asperity; "in fact, I may
+say I have not seen a dead body since my hospital days. I ... I ... know
+nothing about these things. This is a matter for the police. They must
+be summoned at once. Where's Bude?"
+
+Robin Greve turned quickly.
+
+"Get on to the police station at Stevenish at once, Bude," he ordered.
+"Do you know the Inspector?"
+
+"Yessir," the butler answered in a hollow voice. His hands were
+trembling violently, and he seemed to control himself with difficulty.
+"Mr. Humphries, sir!"
+
+"Well, ring him up and tell him that Mr. Parrish ... Hullo, what do all
+these people want?"
+
+There was a commotion at the door. Frightened faces were framed in the
+doorway. Outside there was the sound of a woman whimpering. A tall, dark
+young man in a tail coat came in quickly. He stopped short when he saw
+the solemn faces of the group at the desk. It was Parrish's man, Jay.
+He stepped forward to the desk and in a frightened sort of way peered at
+the body as it lay on the floor.
+
+"Oh, sir," he said breathlessly, addressing Greve, "what ever has
+happened to Mr. Parrish? It can't be true ..."
+
+Greve put his hand on the young man's shoulder.
+
+"I'm sorry to say it is true, Jay," he answered.
+
+"He was very good to us all," the valet replied in a broken voice. He
+remained by the desk staring at the body in a dazed fashion.
+
+"Who is that crying outside?" Greve demanded. "This is no place for
+women ..."
+
+"It's Mrs. Heever, the housekeeper," Bude answered.
+
+"Well, she must go back to her room. Send all those servants away. Jay,
+will you see to it? And take care that Lady Margaret and Miss Trevert
+don't come in here, either."
+
+"Sir Horace is with them, sir, in the lounge," said Jay and went out.
+
+"I'll go to them. I think I'd better," exclaimed the doctor. "I shall be
+in the lounge when they want me. A dreadful affair! Dreadful!"
+
+The little doctor bustled out, leaving Greve and the butler alone in the
+room with the mortal remains of Hartley Parrish lying where he had
+fallen on the soft grey carpet.
+
+"Now, Bude," said Greve incisively, "get on to the police at once. You'd
+better telephone from the servant's hall. I'll have a look round here in
+the meantime!"
+
+Bude stood for an instant irresolute. He glanced shrewdly at the young
+man.
+
+"Go on," said Robin quickly; "what are you waiting for, man? There's no
+time to lose."
+
+Slowly the butler turned and tiptoed away, his ungainly body swaying
+about as he stole across the heavy pile carpet. He went out of the room,
+closing the door softly behind him. He left Greve sunk in a reverie at
+the desk, gazing with unseeing eyes upon the dead face of the master of
+Harkings.
+
+That sprawling corpse, the startled realization of death stamped for
+ever in the wide, staring eyes, was indeed a subject for meditation.
+There, in the midst of all the evidences of Hartley Parrish's meteoric
+rise to affluence and power, Greve pondered for an instant on the
+strange pranks which Fate plays us poor mortals.
+
+Parrish had risen, as Greve and all the world knew, from the bottom rung
+of the ladder. He had had a bitter fight for existence, had made his
+money, as Greve had heard, with a blind and ruthless determination
+which spoke of the stern struggle of other days. And Robin, who, too,
+had had his own way to make in the world, knew how the memory of earlier
+struggles went to sweeten the flavour of ultimate success.
+
+Yet here was Hartley Parrish, with his vast financial undertakings, his
+soaring political ambitions, his social aims which, Robin realized
+bitterly, had more than a little to do with his project for marrying
+Mary Trevert, stricken down suddenly, without warning, in the very
+heyday of success.
+
+"Why should he have done it?" he whispered to himself, "why, my God,
+why?"
+
+But the mask-like face at his feet, as he bent to scan it once more,
+gave no answer to the riddle. Determination, ambition, was portrayed on
+the keen, eager face even in death.
+
+With a little hopeless gesture the young barrister glanced round the
+room. His eye fell upon the desk. He saw a neat array of letter-trays,
+costly silver and tortoise-shell writing appointments, a couple of heavy
+gold fountain pens, and an orderly collection of pencils. Lying flat on
+the great silver-edged blotter was a long brown envelope which had been
+opened. Propped up against the large crystal ink-well was a letter
+addressed simply "Miss Mary Trevert" in Hartley Parrish's big,
+vigorous, and sprawling handwriting.
+
+The letter to Mary Trevert, Robin did not touch. But he picked up the
+long brown envelope. On the back it bore a printed seal. The envelope
+contained a document and a letter. At the sight of it the young man
+started. It was Hartley Parrish's will. The letter was merely a covering
+note from Mr. Bardy, of the firm of Jerringham, Bardy and Company, a
+well-known firm of solicitors, dated the previous evening. Robin
+replaced letter and document in their envelope without reading them.
+
+"So that's it!" he murmured to himself. "Suicide? But why?"
+
+All the letter-trays save one were empty. In this was a little heap of
+papers and letters. Robin glanced through them. There were two or three
+prospectuses, a notice of a golf match, a couple of notes from West End
+tradesmen enclosing receipts and an acknowledgement from the bank. There
+was only one personal letter--a business communication from a Rotterdam
+firm. Robin glanced at the letter. It was typewritten on paper of a dark
+slatey-blue shade. It was headed, "ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & Co., GENERAL
+IMPORTERS, ROTTERDAM," and dealt with steel shipments.
+
+Robin dropped the letter back into the tray and turned to survey the
+room. It was in perfect order. Except for the still form lying on the
+floor and the broken pane of glass in the window, there was nothing to
+tell of the tragedy which had been enacted there that afternoon. There
+were no papers to hint at a crisis save the prosaic-looking envelope
+containing the will, and Parrish's note for Mary. The waste-paper
+basket, a large and business-like affair in white wicker, had been
+cleared.
+
+Robin walked across to the fireplace. The flames leapt eagerly about a
+great oak log which hissed fitfully on top of the glowing coals
+contained in the big iron fire-basket. The grate was bare and tidy. As
+the young man looked at the fire, a little whirl of blue smoke whisked
+out of the wide fireplace and eddied into the room. Robin sniffed. The
+room smelt smoky. Now he remembered he had noticed it as he came in.
+
+He stood an instant gazing thoughtfully at the blazing and leaping fire.
+He threw a quick glance at the window where the curtains tossed fitfully
+in the breeze coming through the broken pane. Suddenly he stepped
+quickly across the room and, lifting the reading-lamp from the table,
+bore it over to the window which he scrutinized narrowly by its light.
+Then he dropped on one knee beside the dead body, placing the lamp on
+the floor beside him.
+
+He lifted the dead man's left hand and narrowly examined the nails.
+Without touching the right hand which clasped the revolver, he studied
+its nails too. He rose and took the gold-mounted reading-glass from the
+desk and scrutinized the nails of both hands through the glass.
+
+Then he rose to his feet again and, having replaced lamp and
+reading-glass on the desk, stood there thoughtfully, his brown hands
+clasped before him. His eyes wandered from the desk to the window and
+from the window to the corpse. Then he noticed on the carpet between the
+dead body and the desk a little ball of slatey-blue paper. He bent down
+and picked it up. He had begun to unroll it when the library door was
+flung open. Robin thrust the scrap of paper in his pocket and turned to
+face the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+IN WHICH BUDE LOOKS AT ROBIN GREVE
+
+
+The library door opened. A large, square-built, florid man in the
+braided uniform of a police inspector stood on the threshold of the
+room. Beside him was Bude who, with an air of dignity and respectful
+mourning suitably blended, waved him into the room.
+
+"The--ahem!--body is in here, Mr. Humphries, sir!"
+
+Inspector Humphries stepped quickly into the room. A little countryfied
+in appearance and accent, he had the careful politeness, the measured
+restraint, and the shrewd eye of the typical police officer. In thirty
+years' service he had risen from village constable to be Inspector of
+county police. Slow to anger, rather stolid, and with an excellent
+heart, he had a vein of shrewd common sense not uncommonly found in that
+fast disappearing species, the English peasant.
+
+He nodded shortly to Greve, and with a tread that shook the room strode
+across to where Hartley Parrish was lying dead. In the meantime a
+harassed-looking man with a short grey beard, wearing a shabby frock
+coat, had slipped into the room behind the Inspector. He approached
+Greve.
+
+"Dr. Romain?" he queried, peering through his gold spectacles, "the
+butler said ..."
+
+"No, my name is Greve," answered Robin. "I am staying in the house. This
+is Dr. Romain."
+
+He motioned to the door. Dr. Romain came bustling into the room.
+
+"Glad to see you here so promptly, Inspector," he said. "A shocking
+business, very. Is this the doctor? I am Dr. Romain ..."
+
+Dr. Redstone bowed with alacrity.
+
+"A great privilege, sir," he said staidly. "I have followed your work...."
+
+But the other did not let him finish.
+
+"Shot through the heart ... instantaneous death ... severe haemorrhage ...
+the pistol is there ... in his hand. A man with everything he wanted
+in the world ... I can't understand it. 'Pon my soul, I can't!"
+
+The Inspector, who had been kneeling by the corpse, motioned with his
+head to the village doctor. Dr. Redstone went to him and began a cursory
+examination of the body. The Inspector rose.
+
+"I understand from the butler, gentlemen," he said, "that it was Miss
+Trevert, a lady staying in the house, who heard the shot fired. I should
+like to see her, please. And you, sir, are you a relation of ..."
+
+Greve, thus addressed, hastily replied.
+
+"Only a friend, Inspector. I am staying in the house. I am a barrister.
+Perhaps I may be able to assist you ..."
+
+Humphries shot a slow, shrewd glance at him from beneath his shaggy
+blond eyebrows.
+
+"Thank you, sir, much obliged, I'm sure. Now"--he thrust a hand into his
+tunic and produced a large leather-bound notebook--"do you know anything
+as would throw a light on this business?"
+
+Greve shook his head.
+
+"He seemed perfectly cheerful at lunch. He left the dining-room directly
+after he had taken his coffee."
+
+"Where did he go?"
+
+"He came here to work. He told us at lunch that he was going to shut
+himself up in the library for the whole afternoon as he had a lot of
+work to get through."
+
+The Inspector made a note or two in his book. Then he paused
+thoughtfully tapping the end of his pencil against his teeth.
+
+"It was Miss Trevert, you say, who found the body?"
+
+"No," Greve replied. "Her brother, Sir Horace Trevert. It was Miss
+Trevert who heard the shot fired."
+
+"The door was locked, I think?"
+
+"On the inside. But here is Sir Horace Trevert. He will tell you how he
+got through the window and discovered the body."
+
+Horace Trevert gave a brief account of his entry into the library. Again
+the Inspector scribbled in his notebook.
+
+"One or two more questions, gentlemen, please," he said, "and then I
+should wish to see Miss Trevert. Firstly, who saw Mr. Hartley Parrish
+last: and at what time?"
+
+Horace Trevert looked at Greve.
+
+"It would be when he left us after lunch, wouldn't it?" he said.
+
+"Certainly, certainly," Dr. Romain broke in. "He left us all together in
+the dining-room, you, Horace and Robin and Lady Margaret and Mary ...
+Miss Trevert and her mother, you know," he added by way of explanation
+to the Inspector.
+
+"And he went straight to the library?"
+
+"Straight away, Mr. Humphries, sir," broke in Bude. "Mr. Parrish crossed
+me in the hall and gave me particular instructions that he was not to be
+disturbed."
+
+"That was at what time?"
+
+"About two-thirty, sir."
+
+"Then you were the last person to see him before ..."
+
+"Why, no ... that is, unless ..."
+
+The butler hesitated, casting a quick glance round his audience.
+
+"What do you mean?" rapped out the Inspector, looking up from his
+notebook. "Did anybody else see Mr. Parrish in spite of his orders?"
+
+Bude was silent. He was looking at Greve.
+
+"Come on," said Humphries sternly. "You heard my question? What makes
+you think anybody else had access to Mr. Parrish before the shot was
+heard?"
+
+Bude made a little resigned gesture of the hands.
+
+"Well, sir, I thought ... I made sure that Mr. Greve ..."
+
+There was a moment's tense silence.
+
+"Well?" snapped Humphries.
+
+"I was going to say I made certain that Mr. Greve was going to Mr.
+Parrish in the library to tell him tea was ready. Mr. Greve passed me in
+the hall and went down the library corridor just after I had served the
+tea."
+
+All eyes turned to Robin.
+
+"It's perfectly true," he said. "I went out into the gardens for a
+mouthful of fresh air just before tea. I left the house by the side door
+off the corridor here. I didn't go to the library, though. It is an
+understood thing in this house that no one ever disturbs Mr. Parrish
+when he ..."
+
+He broke off sharply.
+
+"My God, Mary," he cried, "you mustn't come in here!"
+
+All turned round at his loud exclamation. Mary Trevert stood in the
+doorway. Dr. Romain darted forward.
+
+"My dear," he said soothingly, "you mustn't be here ..."
+
+Passively she let him lead her into the corridor. The Inspector
+continued his examination.
+
+"At what time did you come along this corridor, sir?" he asked Robin.
+
+"It was not long after the tea gong went," answered Robin, "about ten
+minutes past five, I should say ..."
+
+"And you heard nothing?"
+
+Robin shook his head.
+
+"Absolutely nothing," he replied. "The corridor was perfectly quiet. I
+stepped out into the grounds, went for a turn round the house, but it
+was raining, so I came in almost at once."
+
+"At what time was that?"
+
+"When I came in ... oh, about two or three minutes later, say about a
+quarter past five."
+
+Humphries turned to Horace Trevert.
+
+"What time was it when Miss Trevert heard the shot?"
+
+Horace puckered up his brow.
+
+"Well," he said, "I don't quite know. We were having tea. It wasn't much
+after five--I should say about a quarter past."
+
+"Then the shot that Miss Trevert heard would have been fired just about
+the time that you, sir," he turned to Robin, "were coming in from your
+stroll."
+
+"Somewhere about that time, I should say!" Robin answered rather
+thoughtfully.
+
+"Did you hear it?" queried the Inspector.
+
+"No," said Robin.
+
+"But surely you must have been at or near the side door at the time as
+you were coming in ..."
+
+"I came in by the front door," said Robin, "on the other side of the
+house ..."
+
+Very carefully the Inspector closed his notebook, thrust the pencil back
+in its place along the back, fastened the elastic about the book, and
+turned to Horace Trevert.
+
+"And now, sir, if I might speak to Miss Trevert alone for a minute ..."
+
+"I say, though," expostulated Horace, "my sister's awfully upset, you
+know. Is it absolutely necessary?"
+
+"Aye, sir, it is!" said the Inspector. "But there's no need for me to
+see her in here. Perhaps in some other room ..."
+
+"The drawing-room is next to this," the butler put in; "they'd be nice
+and quiet in there, Sir Horace."
+
+The Inspector acquiesced. Dr. Redstone drew him aside for a whispered
+colloquy.
+
+The Inspector came back to Robin and Horace.
+
+"The doctor would like to have the body taken upstairs to Mr. Parrish's
+room," he said. "He wishes to make a more detailed examination if Dr.
+Romain would help him. If one of you gentlemen could give orders about
+this ... I have two officers outside who would lend a hand. And this
+room must then be shut and locked. Sergeant Harris!" he called.
+
+"Sir!"
+
+A stout sergeant appeared at the library door.
+
+"As soon as the body has been removed, you will lock the room and bring
+the key to me. And you will return here and see that no one attempts to
+get into the room. Understand?"
+
+"Yessir!"
+
+"Inspector!"
+
+Robin Greve called Inspector Humphries as the latter was preparing to
+follow Bude to the drawing-room.
+
+"Mr. Parrish seems to have written a note for Miss Trevert," he said,
+pointing at the desk. "And in that envelope you will find Mr. Parrish's
+will. I discovered it there on the desk just before you arrived!"
+
+Again the Inspector shot one of his swift glances at the young man. He
+went over to the desk, shook the document and letter from their
+envelope, glanced at them, and replaced them.
+
+"I don't rightly know that this concerns me, gentlemen," he said slowly.
+"I think I'll just take charge of it. And I'll give Miss Trevert her
+letter."
+
+Taking the two envelopes, he tramped heavily out of the room.
+
+Then in a little while Bude and Jay and two bucolic-looking policemen
+came to the library to move the body of the master of Harkings. Robin
+stood by and watched the little procession pass slowly with silent feet
+across the soft pile carpet and out into the corridor. But his thoughts
+were not with Parrish. He was haunted by the look which Mary Trevert had
+given him as she had stood for an instant at the library door, a look of
+fear, of suspicion. And it made his heart ache.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE LETTER
+
+
+The great drawing-room of Harkings was ablaze with light. The cluster of
+lights in the heavy crystal chandelier and the green-shaded electric
+lamps in their gilt sconces on the plain white-panelled walls coldly lit
+up the formal, little-used room with its gilt furniture, painted piano,
+and huge marble fireplace.
+
+This glittering Louis Seize environment seemed altogether too much for
+the homely Inspector. Whilst waiting for Mary Trevert to come to him, he
+tried several attitudes in turn. The empty hearth frightened him away
+from the mantelpiece, the fragile appearance of a gilt settee decided
+him against risking his sixteen stone weight on its silken cushions, and
+the vastness of the room overawed him when he took up his position in
+the centre of the Aubusson carpet. Finally he selected an ornate chair,
+rather more solid-looking than the rest, which he drew up to a small
+table on the far side of the room. There he sat down, his large red
+hands spread out upon his knees in an attitude of singular
+embarrassment.
+
+But Mary Trevert set him quickly at his ease when presently she came to
+him. She was pale, but quite self-possessed. Indeed, the effort she had
+made to regain her self-control was so marked that it would have
+scarcely escaped the attention of the Inspector, even if he had not had
+a brief vision of her as she had stood for that instant at the library
+door, pale, distraught, and trembling. He was astonished to find her
+cool, collected, almost business-like in the way she sat down, motioned
+him to his seat, and expressed her readiness to tell him all she knew.
+
+The phrases he had been laboriously preparing--"This has been a bad
+shock for you, ma'am"; "You will forgive me, I'm sure, ma'am, for
+calling upon you at a moment such as this"--died away on his lips as
+Mary Trevert said:
+
+"Ask me any questions you wish, Inspector. I will tell you everything I
+can."
+
+"That's very good of you, ma'am, I'm sure," answered the Inspector,
+unstrapping his notebook, "and I'll try and not detain you long. Now,
+then, tell me what you know of this sad affair ..."
+
+Mary Trevert plucked an instant nervously at her little cambric
+handerchief in her lap. Then she said:
+
+"I went to the library from the billiard-room ..."
+
+"A moment," interposed the Inspector. "What time was that?"
+
+"A little after five. The tea gong had gone some time. I was going to
+the library to tell Mr. Parrish that tea was ready ..."
+
+Mr. Humphries made a note. He nodded to show he was listening.
+
+"I crossed the hall and went down the library corridor. I knocked on the
+library door. There was no reply. Then I heard a shot and a sort of
+thud."
+
+Despite her effort to remain calm, the girl's voice shook a little. She
+made a little helpless gesture of her hands. A diamond ring she was
+wearing on her finger caught the light and blazed for an instant.
+
+"Then I got frightened. I ran back along the corridor to the lounge
+where the others were and told them."
+
+"When you knocked at the door, you say there was no reply. I suppose,
+now, you tried the handle first."
+
+"Oh, yes ..."
+
+"Then Mr. Parrish would have heard the two sounds? The turning of the
+handle and then the knocking on the door? That's so, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so ..."
+
+"Yet you say there was no reply?"
+
+"No. None at all."
+
+The Inspector jotted a word or two in his notebook as it lay open flat
+upon the table.
+
+"The shot, then, was fired immediately after you had knocked? Not while
+you were knocking?"
+
+"No. I knocked and waited, expecting Mr. Parrish to answer. Instead of
+him answering, there came this shot ..."
+
+"I see. And after the shot was fired there was a crash?"
+
+"A sort of thud--like something heavy falling down."
+
+"And you heard no groan or cry?"
+
+The girl knit her brows for a moment.
+
+"I ... I ... was frightened by the shot. I ... I ... don't seem able to
+remember what happened afterwards. Let me think ... let me think ..."
+
+"There, there," said the Inspector paternally, "don't upset yourself
+like this. Just try and think what happened after you heard the shot
+fired ..."
+
+Mary Trevert shuddered, one slim white hand pressed against her cheek.
+
+"I do remember now," she said, "there _was_ a cry. It was more like a
+sharp exclamation ..."
+
+"And then you heard this crash?"
+
+"Yes ..."
+
+The girl had somewhat regained her self-possession. She dabbed her eyes
+with her handkerchief quickly as though ashamed of her weakness.
+
+"Now," said Humphries, clearing his throat, as though to indicate that
+the conversation had changed, "you and Lady Margaret Trevert knew Mr.
+Parrish pretty well, I believe, Miss Trevert. Have you any idea why he
+should have done this thing?"
+
+Mary Trevert shook her dark head rather wearily.
+
+"It is inconceivable to me ... to all of us," she answered.
+
+"Do you happen to know whether Mr. Parrish had any business worries?"
+
+"He always had a great deal of business on hand and he has had a great
+deal to do lately over some big deal."
+
+"What was it, do you know?"
+
+"He was raising fresh capital for Hornaway's--that is the big
+engineering firm he controls ..."
+
+"Do you know if he was pleased with the way things were shaping?"
+
+"Oh, yes. He told me last night that everything would be finished this
+week. He seemed quite satisfied."
+
+The Inspector paused to make a note.
+
+Then he thrust a hand into the side-pocket of his tunic and produced
+Hartley Parrish's letter.
+
+"This," he said, eyeing the girl as he handed her the letter, "may throw
+some light on the affair!"
+
+Open-eyed, a little surprised, she took the plain white envelope from
+his hand and gazed an instant without speaking, on the bold sprawling
+address--
+
+  _"Miss Mary Trevert."_
+
+"Open it, please," said the Inspector gently.
+
+The girl tore open the envelope. Humphries saw her eyes fill, watched
+the emotion grip her and shake her in her self-control so that she could
+not speak when, her reading done, she gave him back the letter.
+
+Without asking her permission, he took the sheet of fine, expensive
+paper with its neat engraved heading and postal directions, and read
+Hartley Parrish's last message.
+
+  My dear [it ran], I signed my will at Bardy's office
+  yesterday, and he sent it back to me to-day. Just
+  this line to let you know you are properly provided
+  for should anything happen to me. I wanted to fix
+  things so that you and Lady Margaret would not
+  have to worry any more. I just had to _write_.
+  I guess you understand why.
+
+H.
+
+There was a long and impressive silence while the Inspector
+deliberately read the note. Then he looked interrogatively at the girl.
+
+"We were engaged, Inspector," she said. "We were to have been married
+very soon."
+
+A deep flush crept slowly over Mr. Humphries's florid face and spread
+into the roots of his tawny fair hair.
+
+"But what does he mean by 'having to write'?" he asked.
+
+The girl replied hastily, her eyes on the ground.
+
+"Mr. Parrish was under the impression that ... that ... without his
+money I should not have cared for him. That is what he means ..."
+
+"You knew he had provided for you in his will?"
+
+"He told me several times that he intended to leave me everything. You
+see, he has no relatives!"
+
+"I see!" said the Inspector in a reflective voice.
+
+"Had he any enemies, do you know? Anybody who would drive him to a thing
+like this?"
+
+The girl shook her head vehemently.
+
+"No!"
+
+The monosyllable came out emphatically. Again the Inspector darted one
+of his quick, shrewd glances at the girl. She met his scrutiny with her
+habitual serene and candid gaze. The Inspector dropped his eyes and
+scribbled in his book.
+
+"Was his health good?"
+
+"He smoked far too much," the girl said, "and it made him rather nervy.
+But otherwise he never had a day's illness in his life."
+
+Humphries ran his eye over the notes he had made.
+
+"There is just one more question I should like to ask you, Miss
+Trevert," he said, "rather a personal question."
+
+Mary Trevert's hands twisted the cambric handkerchief into a little ball
+and slowly unwound it again. But her face remained quite calm.
+
+"About your engagement to Mr. Parrish ... when did it take place?"
+
+"Some days ago. It has not yet been announced."
+
+The Inspector coughed.
+
+"I was only wondering whether, perhaps, Mr. Parrish was not quite ...
+whether he was, maybe, a little disturbed in his mind about the
+engagement ..."
+
+The girl hesitated. Then she said firmly:
+
+"Mr. Parrish was perfectly happy about it. He was looking forward to our
+being married in the spring."
+
+Mr. Humphries shut his notebook with a snap and rose to his feet.
+
+"Thank you very much, ma'am," he said with a little formal bow. "If you
+will excuse me now. I have the doctor to see again and there's the
+Coroner to be warned ..."
+
+He bowed again and tramped towards the door with a tread that made the
+chandelier tinkle melodiously.
+
+The door closed behind him and his heavy footsteps died away along the
+corridor. Mary Trevert had risen to her feet calm and impassive. But
+when he had gone, her bosom began to heave and a spasm of pain shot
+across her face. Again the tears welled up in her eyes, brimmed over and
+stole down her cheeks.
+
+"If I only _knew!_" she sobbed, "if I only _knew!_"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+VOICES IN THE LIBRARY
+
+
+The swift tragedy of the winter afternoon had convulsed the
+well-organized repose of Hartley Parrish's household. Nowhere had his
+master grasp of detail been seen to better advantage than in the
+management of his country home. Overwhelmed with work though he
+constantly was, accustomed to carry his business and often part of his
+business staff to Harkings with him for the week-ends, there was never
+the least confusion about the house. The methodical calm of Harkings was
+that of a convent.
+
+Hartley Parrish was wont to say that he paid his butler and housekeeper
+well to save himself from worry. It was rather to ensure his orders
+being punctiliously and promptly carried out. His was the mind behind
+the method which ensured that meals were punctually served and trains at
+Stevenish Station never missed.
+
+But it was into a house in turmoil that Mary Trevert stepped when she
+left the drawing-room and passed along the corridor to go to her room.
+Doors slammed and there was the heavy thud of footsteps on the floor
+above. The glass door leading into the gardens was open, as Mary passed
+it, swinging in the gusts of cold rain. In the gardens without there was
+a confused murmur of voices and the flash of lanterns.
+
+In the hall a knot of servants were gossiping in frightened whispers
+with a couple of large, rather bovine country constables who,
+bareheaded, without their helmets, which they held under their arms,
+looked curiously undressed.
+
+The whispers died away as Mary crossed the hall. All eyes followed her
+with interest as she went. It was as though an echo of her talk with the
+Inspector had by some occult means already spread through the little
+household. Through the half-open green baize door leading to the
+servants' quarters some unseen person was bawling down the telephone in
+a heated controversy with the exchange about a long-distance call to
+London. And but an hour since, the girl reflected sadly, as she mounted
+the oaken staircase, the house had been wrapt in its wonted evening
+silence in response to that firm and dominating personality who had
+passed out in the gloom of the winter twilight.
+
+When, about six months before, Mary and her mother had begun to be
+regular visitors at Harkings, Hartley Parrish had insisted on giving
+Mary a boudoir to herself. This, in response to a chance remark of
+Mary's in admiration of a Chinese room she had seen at a friend's house,
+Parrish had had decorated in the Chinese style with black walls and
+black-and-gold lacquer furniture. The room had been transformed from a
+rather prosaic morning-room with old oak and chintz in the space of
+three days as a surprise for Mary. She remembered now how Parrish had
+left her to make the discovery of the change for herself. She loved
+colour and line, and the contrast between this quaint and delightful
+room with her rather shabby bedroom in her mother's small house in
+Brompton had made this surprise one of the most delightful she had ever
+experienced.
+
+She rang the bell and sat down listlessly in a charmingly lacquered
+Louis Seize armchair in front of the log-fire blazing brightly in the
+fireplace. She was conscious that a great disaster had overtaken her,
+but only dimly conscious. For more poignantly than this dull sense of
+tragedy she was aware of a great aching at her heart, and her thoughts,
+after hovering over the events of the afternoon, settled down upon her
+talk that afternoon ... already how far off it seemed ... with Robin
+Greve in the library.
+
+Robin had always been her hero. She could see him now in the glow of the
+fire as he had been when in the holidays he had come and snatched her
+away from a home already drab and difficult for a matinee and an orgy of
+cream cakes at Gunter's afterwards. He was then a long, slim, handsome
+boy of irrepressible spirits and impulsive generosity which usually left
+him, after the first few days of his holidays, in a state of lamentable
+impecuniosity. All their lives, it seemed to her, they had been friends,
+but with no stronger feeling between them until Robin, having joined the
+Army on the outbreak of war, had come to say good-bye on being ordered
+to France.
+
+But by that time money troubles at home with which, as it seemed to her,
+she had been surrounded all her life, had grown so pressing that, apart
+from Lady Margaret's reiterated counsels, she herself had come to
+recognize that a suitable marriage was the only way out of their
+ever-increasing embarrassment.
+
+She and Robin, she recalled with a feeling of relief, had never
+discussed the matter. He, too, had understood and had sailed for France
+without seeking to take advantage of the circumstance.
+
+Outside in the black night a car throbbed. Footsteps crunched the gravel
+beneath her window. The sounds brought her back to the present with a
+sudden pang. She began to think of Hartley Parrish. All her life she
+had been so very poor that, until she had met this big, vigorous,
+intensely vital man, she had never known what a lavish command of money
+meant. Hartley Parrish did things in a big way. If he wanted a thing he
+bought it, as he had bought Bude, as he had bought a car he had seen
+standing outside a Pall Mall club and admired. He had rooted the owner
+out, bade him name his price, and had paid it, there and then, by
+cheque, and driven Mary off to a lawn tennis tournament at Queen's,
+hugely delighted by her bewilderment.
+
+She did not love him. She could never have learnt to love him. There was
+a gleeful zest in his enjoyment of his money, an ostentatious parade of
+his riches which repelled her. And there was a look in his face, those
+narrow eyes, that hard mouth, which revealed to her womanly intuition a
+ruthlessness which she guessed he kept for his business. But she liked
+him, especially his reverent and chivalrous devotion to her, and the
+thought that his dominating and vital personality was extinguished for
+ever made her conscious of a great void in her life.
+
+And now she was rich. Hartley Parrish's idea of "proper provision" for
+her, she knew, meant wealth for her beyond anything she had ever
+dreamed. The perpetual debasing struggle with poverty which she and her
+mother had carried on for years was a thing of the past. Money meant
+freedom, freedom to live ... and to love.
+
+She stretched her hands out to the blaze. Was she free to love? What had
+driven Hartley Parrish to suicide? Or who? She went over in her mind her
+interview with Robin Greve in the billiard-room. He had spoken of other
+women in connection with Hartley Parrish. Had he used that knowledge to
+threaten his rival? What had Robin done after he had left her that
+afternoon with his final taunt?
+
+She felt the blood rise to her cheeks as she thought of it. Mary Trevert
+had all the pride of her ancient race. The recollection of that taunt
+galled her. Her loyalty to the man from whom she had received nothing
+but chivalry, whose fortune was to banish a hideous nightmare from her
+life, rose up in arms. What had Robin done? She must know the truth ...
+
+A tap came at the door. Bude appeared.
+
+"I think you rang, Miss," he said in his quiet, deep voice. "I was with
+the Inspector, Miss, and I couldn't come before. Was there anything?..."
+
+The girl turned in her chair.
+
+"Come in and shut the door, Bude," she said. "I want to speak to you."
+
+The butler obeyed and came over to where she sat. He seemed ill at ease
+and rather apprehensive.
+
+"Bude," said the girl, "I want you to tell me why you were certain that
+Mr. Greve was going to Mr. Parrish in the library when he passed you in
+the hall this afternoon!"
+
+The butler smoothed his hands down his trousers in embarrassment.
+
+"I thought he ... Mr. Greve ... would be sure to be going to fetch Mr.
+Parrish in to tea, Miss ..." he replied, eyeing the girl anxiously.
+
+Mary Trevert continued gazing into the fire.
+
+"You know it is a rule in this house, Bude," she said, "that Mr. Parrish
+is never disturbed in the library ..."
+
+The butler changed his position uneasily.
+
+"Yes, Miss, but I thought ..."
+
+Slowly Mary Trevert turned and looked at the man.
+
+"Bude,"--her voice was very calm,--"I want you to tell me the truth. You
+know that Mr. Greve went in to Mr. Parrish ..."
+
+Bude looked uneasily about him.
+
+"Oh, Miss," he answered, almost in a whisper, "whatever are you saying?"
+
+"I want your answer, Bude," the girl said coldly.
+
+Bude did not speak. He rubbed his hands up and down his trousers in
+desperation.
+
+"I wish to know why Mr. Parrish did this thing, Bude. I mean to know.
+And I think you are keeping something back!"
+
+The challenge resounded clearly, firmly.
+
+"Miss Trevert, ma'am," the butler said in a low voice, "I wouldn't take
+it upon me to say anything as would get anybody in this house into
+trouble...."
+
+"You saw Mr. Greve go into Mr. Parrish?"
+
+The butler raised his hands in a quick gesture of denial.
+
+"God forbid, Miss!" he ejaculated in horror.
+
+"What, then, do you know that is likely to get anybody here into
+trouble?"
+
+The butler hesitated an instant. Then he spoke.
+
+"That Inspector Humphries has been asking me questions, Miss, in a
+nasty, suspicious sort o' way. I told him, what I told him already, that
+just after I'd done serving the tea Mr. Greve crossed the hall and went
+down the library corridor...."
+
+"You didn't tell him everything, Bude?"
+
+The butler took a step nearer.
+
+"Oh, Miss," he said, lowering his voice, "if you'll pardon my frankness,
+but I know as how you and Mr. Greve are old friends, and I wouldn't
+take it upon me to tell the police anything as might ..."
+
+Mary Trevert stood up and faced the man.
+
+"Bude," said she, "Mr. Parrish was your master, a kind and generous
+master as he was kind and generous to every one in this house. We must
+clear up the mystery of his ... of his death. Neither you nor I nor Mr.
+Greve nor anybody must stand in the way. Now, tell me the truth!"
+
+She dropped back into her chair. She gave the order imperiously like the
+mistress of the house. The butler, trained through life to receive
+orders, surrendered.
+
+"There's nothing much to tell, Miss. When Mr. Humphries asked me if I
+were the last person to see Mr. Parrish alive, I made sure that Mr.
+Greve would say he had been in to tell him tea was ready. But Mr. Greve,
+who heard the Inspector's question and my answer, said nothing. So I
+thought, maybe, he had his reasons and I did not feel exactly as how it
+was my place ..."
+
+Mary Trevert tapped with her foot impatiently.
+
+"But what grounds have you for saying that Mr. Greve went in to Mr.
+Parrish? Mr. Greve declared quite positively that he went out by the
+side door and did not go into the library at all."
+
+"But, Miss, I heard him speaking to Mr. Parrish ..."
+
+The girl turned round and the man saw fear in her wide-open eyes.
+
+The butler put his hand on the back of her chair and leaned forward.
+
+"Better leave things where they are, Miss," he said in a low voice. "Mr.
+Parrish, I dare say, had his reasons. He's gone to his last account now.
+What does it matter why he done it ..."
+
+The man was agitated, and in his emotion his carefully studied English
+was forsaking him.
+
+But the girl broke in incisively.
+
+"Please explain what you mean!" she commanded.
+
+"Why, Miss," replied the butler, "we know that Mr. Greve had no call to
+like Mr. Parrish seeing how things were between you and the master ..."
+
+"You mean the servants know that Mr. Parrish and I were engaged ..."
+
+Bude made a deprecatory gesture.
+
+"Know, Miss? I wouldn't go so far as to say 'know.' But there has been
+some talk in the servants' 'all, Miss. You know what young female
+servants are, Miss ..."
+
+"And you think that Mr. Greve went to Mr. Parrish to talk about ... me?"
+
+Mary Trevert's voice faltered a little. She looked eagerly at the
+other's fat, smooth face.
+
+"I presoomed as much, Miss, I must confess!"
+
+"But what did you hear Mr. Greve say?"
+
+"I heard nothing, Miss, except just only the sound of voices. After Mr.
+Greve had crossed me in the hall, I took the salver I was carrying into
+the butler's pantry. I stayed there a minute or two, and then I
+remembered I had not collected the letters from the box in the hall for
+the chauffeur to take to the post, the same as he does every evening. I
+went back to the hall, and just as I opened the green baize door I heard
+voices from the library ..."
+
+"Was it Mr. Greve's voice?"
+
+"I cannot say, Miss. It was just the sound of voices, rather loud-like.
+I caught the sound because the door leading from the hall to the library
+corridor was ajar. Mr. Greve must have forgotten to shut it."
+
+"What did you do?"
+
+"Well, Miss, I closed the corridor door ..."
+
+"Why did you do that?"
+
+"Well, Miss, seeing the voices sounded angry-like, I thought perhaps it
+would be better not to let any one else hear.... And Mr. Greve looked
+upset-like when he passed me. He gave me quite a turn, he did, when I
+saw his face under the hall lamp...."
+
+"Did you stay there ... and listen?"
+
+Bude drew himself up.
+
+"That is not my 'abit, Miss, not 'ere nor in hany of the 'ouses where I
+'ave seen service...."
+
+The butler broke off. The _h_'s were too much for him in his
+indignation.
+
+"I didn't mean to suggest anything underhand," the girl said quickly. "I
+mean, did you hear any more?"
+
+"No, Miss. I emptied the letter-box and took the letters to the
+servants' hall."
+
+"But," said Mary in a puzzled way, "why do you say it was Mr. Greve if
+you didn't hear his voice?"
+
+Bude spread out his hands in bewilderment.
+
+"Who else should it have been, Miss? Sir Horace and the doctor were in
+the lounge at tea. Jay and Robert were in the servants' hall. It could
+have been nobody else...."
+
+The girl's head sank slowly on her breast. She was silent. The butler
+shifted his position.
+
+"Was there anything more, Miss?" he asked after a little while.
+
+"There is nothing further, thank you, Bude," replied Mary. "About Mr.
+Greve, I am sure there must be some mistake. He cannot have understood
+Mr. Humphries's question. I'll ask him about it when I see him. I don't
+think I should say anything to the Inspector about it, at any rate, not
+until I've seen Mr. Greve. He'll probably speak to you about it
+himself...."
+
+Bude made a motion as though he were going to say something. Then
+apparently he thought better of it, for he made a little formal bow and
+in his usual slow and dignified manner made his exit from the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+ROBIN GOES TO MARY
+
+
+The house telephone, standing on the long and gracefully designed desk
+with its elaborately lacquered top, whirred. Mary started from her
+reverie in her chair by the fire. By the clock on the mantelshelf she
+saw that it was a quarter past eight. She remembered that once her
+mother had knocked at her door and bidden her come down to dinner. She
+had refused the invitation, declining to unlock the door.
+
+She lifted the receiver.
+
+"That you, Mary?"
+
+Robin was speaking.
+
+"May I come up and see you? Or would you rather be left alone?"
+
+His firm, pleasant voice greatly comforted her. Only then she realized
+how greatly she craved sympathy. But the recollection of Bude's story
+suddenly interposed itself like a barrier between them.
+
+"Yes, come up," she said, "I want to speak to you!"
+
+Her voice was dispirited,
+
+"I don't want to see him," she told herself as she replaced the
+receiver, got up, and unlocked the door, "but I must _know_!"
+
+A gentle tap came at the door. Robin came in quickly and crossed to
+where she stood by the fire.
+
+"My dear!" he said and put out his two hands.
+
+Her hands were behind her back, the fingers nervously intertwining. She
+kept them there and made no sign that she had observed his gesture.
+
+He looked at her in surprise.
+
+"This has been terrible for you, Mary," he said. "I wish to God I could
+make you realize how very, very much I feel for you in what you must be
+going through...."
+
+The phrase was formal and he brought it out irresolutely, chilled as he
+was by her reception. She was looking at him dispassionately, her
+forehead a little puckered, her eyes a trifle hard.
+
+"Won't you sit down," she said. "There is something I wanted to say!"
+
+He was looking at her now in a puzzled fashion. With rather feigned
+deliberation he chose a chair and sat down facing the fire. A lamp on
+the mantelpiece--the only light in the room--threw its rays on his face.
+His chin was set rather more squarely than his wont and his eyes were
+shining.
+
+"Mary,"--he leant forward towards her,--"please forget what I said this
+afternoon. It was beastly of me, but I hardly knew what I was
+doing...."
+
+She made a little gesture as if to wave his apology aside. Then, with
+her hands clasped in front of her, scanning the nails, she asked, almost
+casually:
+
+"What did you say to Hartley Parrish in the library this afternoon?"
+
+Robin stared at her in amazement.
+
+"But I was not in the library!" he answered.
+
+The girl dropped her hands sharply to her side.
+
+"Don't quibble with me, Robin," she said. "What did you say to Hartley
+Parrish after you left me this afternoon in the billiard-room?"
+
+He was still staring at her, but now there was a deep furrow between his
+brows. He was breathing rather hard.
+
+"I did not speak to Parrish at all after I left you."
+
+His answer was curt and incisive.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," Mary said, "that, after you left me and went
+down the corridor towards the library, you neither went in to Hartley
+nor spoke to him!"
+
+"I do!"
+
+"Then how do you account for the fact that, almost immediately after you
+had crossed Bude in the hall, he heard the sound of voices in the
+library?"
+
+Robin Greve stood up abruptly.
+
+"Bude, you say, makes this statement?"
+
+"Certainly!"
+
+"To whom, may I ask?"
+
+He spoke sharply and there was a challenging ring in his voice. It
+nettled the girl.
+
+"Only to me," she said quickly, and added: "You needn't think he has
+told the police!"
+
+Very deliberately Robin plucked his handkerchief from his sleeve, wiped
+his lips, and replaced it. The girl saw that his hands were trembling.
+
+"Why do you say that to me?" he demanded rather fiercely.
+
+Mary Trevert shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"This afternoon," she said, "when I told you of my engagement to
+Hartley, you began by abusing him to me, you rushed from the room making
+straight for the library where we all know that Hartley was working, and
+a few minutes after Bude hears voices raised in anger proceeding from
+there. The next thing we know is that Hartley has ..."
+
+She broke off and looked away.
+
+"Mary,"--Robin's voice was grave, and he had mastered all signs of
+irritation,--"you and I have known one another all our lives. You ought
+to know me well enough by now to understand that I don't tell you lies.
+When I say I haven't seen or spoken to Hartley Parrish since lunch this
+afternoon, that is the truth!"
+
+"How can it be the truth?" the girl insisted. "Horace and Dr. Romain
+were both in the lounge-hall, Bude was in the hall, the other
+menservants were in the servants' hall. You are the only man in the
+house not accounted for, and a minute before Bude heard these voices you
+go down the corridor towards the library. I can understand you wanting
+to keep it from the police, but why do you want to deceive _me_?"
+
+"Mary," answered the young man sternly, "I know you're upset, but that's
+no justification for persisting in this stupid charge against me. I tell
+you I never saw Parrish or spoke to him, either, between lunch and when
+I saw him lying dead in the library. I am not going to repeat the
+denial. But you may as well understand now that I am not in the habit of
+allowing my friends to doubt my word!"
+
+Mary flamed up at his tone.
+
+"If you are my friend," she cried, "why can't you trust me? Why should I
+find this out from Bude? Why should I be humiliated by hearing from the
+butler that he kept this evidence from the police in order to please me
+because you and I are friends? I am only trying to help you, to shield
+you ..."
+
+"That will do, Mary," he said. "No, you must hear what I have to say. If
+you insist on disbelieving me, you must. But I don't want you to help
+me. I don't want you to shield me. I shall make it my business to see
+that Bude's evidence is brought before the detective inspector from
+Scotland Yard who is being brought down here to handle the case ..."
+
+"A detective from Scotland Yard?" the girl repeated.
+
+"Yes, a detective. Humphries is puzzled by several points about this
+case and has asked for assistance from London. He is right. Neither the
+circumstances of Parrish's death nor the motive of his act are clear.
+Bude's evidence is sufficient proof that somebody did gain access to the
+library this afternoon. In that case...."
+
+"Yes...."
+
+"In that case," said Greve slowly, "it may not be suicide...."
+
+Mary put one hand suddenly to her face as women do when they are
+frightened. She shrank back.
+
+"You mean...."
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Murder!"
+
+The girl gave a little gasp. Then she stretched out her hand and
+touched his arm.
+
+"But, Robin," she spoke in quick gasps,--"you can't give the police this
+evidence of Bude's. Don't you see it incriminates _you?_ Don't you
+realize that every scrap of evidence points to you as being the man that
+visited Mr. Parrish in the library this afternoon? You're a lawyer,
+Robin. You understand these things. Don't you see what I mean?"
+
+He nodded curtly.
+
+"Perfectly," he replied coldly.
+
+"Bude will do what I tell him," the girl hurried on. "There is no need
+for the police to know...."
+
+"On the contrary," said the other imperturbably, "it is essential they
+should be told at once."
+
+The girl grasped the lapels of his coat in her two hands. Her breath
+came quickly and she trembled all over.
+
+"Are you mad, Robin?" she cried. "Who could have wanted to kill poor
+Hartley? Why should you put these ideas into the heads of the police?
+Bude may have imagined everything. Now, you'll be sensible, promise
+me...."
+
+Very gently he detached the two slim hands that held his coat. His mouth
+was set in a firm line.
+
+"We are going to sift this thing to the bottom, Mary," he said, "no
+matter what are the consequences. You owe it to Parrish and you owe it
+to me...."
+
+The telephone trilled suddenly.
+
+Robin picked up the receiver,
+
+"Yes, Bude," he said.
+
+There was a moment's silence in the room broken as the clock on the
+mantelpiece chimed nine times. Then Robin said into the telephone:
+
+"Right! Tell him I'll be down immediately!"
+
+He put down the receiver and turned to Mary.
+
+"A detective inspector has arrived from London. He is asking to see me.
+I must go downstairs."
+
+Mary, her elbows on the mantelpiece, was staring into the fire. At the
+sound of his voice she swung round quickly.
+
+"Robin!" she cried.
+
+But she spoke too late.
+
+Robin Greve had left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+MR. MANDERTON
+
+
+A quality which had gone far to lay the foundations of the name which
+Robin Greve was rapidly making at the bar was his strong intuitive
+sense. He had the rare ability of correctly 'sensing' an atmosphere, an
+uncanny _flair_ for driving instantly at the heart of a situation, which
+rendered him in the courts a dexterous advocate and a redoubtable
+opponent.
+
+Now, as he came into the lounge from the big oak staircase, he instantly
+realized that he had entered an unfriendly atmosphere. The concealed
+lights which were set all round the cornice of the room were turned on,
+flooding the pleasantly snug room with soft reflected light. A little
+group stood about the fire, Bude, Jay, Hartley Parrish's man, and a
+stranger. Jay was engaged in earnest conversation with the stranger. But
+at the sound of Greve's foot upon the staircase, the conversation ceased
+and a silence fell on the group.
+
+Greve's attention was immediately attracted towards the stranger, whom
+he surmised to be the detective from Scotland Yard. He was a big, burly
+man with a heavy dark moustache, straight and rather thin black hair,
+and coarse features. He looked a full-blooded, plethoric person with
+reddish-blue veins on his florid face, and a heavy jowl which
+over-feeding, Robin surmised, had made fullish. He was very neatly
+dressed in his black overcoat with velvet collar carefully brushed, his
+natty black tie with its pearl pin, and well-polished boots. His black
+bowler hat, with a pair of heavy dogskin gloves, neatly folded, lay on
+the table.
+
+"This Mr. Greve?"
+
+Bude and Jay fell back as Robin joined the group. The detective bent his
+gaze on the young barrister as he put his question, and Robin for the
+first time noticed his eyes. Keen and clear, they were ill-suited, he
+thought, to the rather gross features of the man. By right he should
+have had either the small and roguish or the pale and expressionless
+eyes which are habitually found in individuals of the sanguine
+temperament.
+
+The detective had a trick of dropping his eyes to his boots. When he
+raised them, the effect was to alter his whole expression. His eyes,
+well-open, keenly observant, in perpetual motion, lent an air of
+alertness, of shrewdness, to his heavy, florid countenance.
+
+"That is my name," said Robin, answering his question. "I am a
+barrister. I have met some of your people at the Yard, but I don't
+think...."
+
+"Detective-Inspector Manderton," interjected the big man, and paused as
+though to say, "Let that sink in!"
+
+Robin knew him well by repute. His qualities were those of the bull-dog,
+slow-moving, obstinately brave, and desperately tenacious. His was a
+name to conjure with among the criminal classes, and his career was
+starred with various sensational tussles with desperate criminals, for
+Detective-Inspector Manderton, when engaged on a case, invariably "took
+a hand himself," as he phrased it, when an arrest was to be made. A
+bullet-hole in his right thigh and an imperfectly knitted right
+collar-bone remained to remind him of this propensity of his. His motto,
+as he was fond of saying, was, "What I have I hold!"
+
+"Well, Mr. Greve," said the detective in a loud, hectoring voice,
+"perhaps you will be good enough to tell me what you know of this
+affair?"
+
+Robin flushed angrily at the man's manner. But there was no trace of
+resentment in his voice as he replied. He told Manderton what he had
+already told Humphries: how he had gone from the billiard-room across
+the hall and down the library corridor to the side-door into the
+grounds, intending to have a stroll before tea, but, finding that it
+was threatening rain, had returned to the house by the front door.
+
+The detective scanned the young man's face closely as he spoke. When
+Robin had finished, the other dropped his eyes and seemed to be
+examining the brilliant polish of his boots. He said nothing, and again
+Robin became aware of the atmosphere of hostility towards him which this
+man radiated.
+
+"It is dark at five o'clock?"
+
+Manderton turned to Bude.
+
+"Getting on that way, sir," the butler agreed.
+
+"Are you in the habit, sir,"--the detective turned to Robin now,--"of
+going out for walks in the dark?"
+
+Greve shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I had been sitting in the billiard-room. It was rather stuffy, so I
+thought I'd like some air before tea!"
+
+"You left Miss Trevert in the billiard-room?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+Greve put a hand to his throat and eased his collar.
+
+"The gong had sounded for tea," the detective went on imperturbably;
+"surely it would have been more natural for you to have brought Miss
+Trevert with you?"
+
+"I didn't wish to!"
+
+Mr. Manderton cleared his throat.
+
+"Ah!" he grunted. "You didn't wish to. I should like you to be frank
+with me, Mr. Greve, please. Was it not a fact that you and Miss Trevert
+had words?"
+
+He looked up sharply at him with contracted pupils.
+
+"You took a certain interest in this young lady?"
+
+"Mr. Manderton,"--Robin spoke with a certain _hauteur_,--"don't you
+think we might leave Miss Trevert's name out of this?"
+
+"Mr. Greve," replied the detective bluntly, "I don't!"
+
+Robin made a little gesture of resignation.
+
+"Before the servants...."
+
+"Come, come, sir," the detective broke in, "with all respect to the
+young lady and yourself, it was a matter of common knowledge in the
+house that she and you were ... well, old friends. It was remarked, Mr.
+Greve, I may remind you, that you looked very upset-like when you left
+the billiard-room to"--he paused perceptibly--"to go for your stroll in
+the dark."
+
+Robin glanced quickly round the group. Jay averted his eyes. As for
+Bude, he was the picture of embarrassment.
+
+"You seem to be singularly well posted in the gossip of the servants'
+hall, Mr. Manderton!" said Robin hotly.
+
+It was a foolish remark, and Robin regretted it the moment the words had
+left his mouth.
+
+"Well, yes," commented the detective slowly, "I am. I shall be well
+posted on the whole of this case, presently, I hope, sir!"
+
+His manner was perfectly respectful, but reserved almost to a tone of
+menace.
+
+"In that case," said Robin, "I'll tell you something you don't know, Mr.
+Manderton. Has Bude told you what he heard after I had passed him in the
+hall?"
+
+Interest flashed at once into the detective's face. He turned quickly to
+the butler. Robin felt he had scored.
+
+"What did you hear?" he said sharply.
+
+Bude looked round wildly. His large, fish-like mouth twitched, and he
+made a few feeble gestures with his hands.
+
+"It was only perhaps an idea of mine, sir," he stammered,--"just a sort
+of idea ... I dare say I was mistaken. My hearing ain't what it was,
+sir...."
+
+"Don't you try to hoodwink me," said Manderton, with sudden ferocity,
+knitting his brows and frowning at the unfortunate butler. "Come on and
+tell us what you heard. Mr. Greve knows and I mean to. Out with it!"
+
+Bude cast a reproachful glance at Robin. Then he said:
+
+"Well, sir, a minute or two after Mr. Greve had passed me, I went back
+to the hall and through the open door of the corridor leading to the
+library, I heard voices!"
+
+"Voices, eh? Did you recognize them?"
+
+"No, sir. It was just the sound of talking!"
+
+"You told Miss Trevert they were loud voices, Bude!" Robin interrupted.
+
+"Yes, sir," replied the butler, "they were loudish in a manner o'
+speaking, else I shouldn't have heard them!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+The detective rapped the question out sharply.
+
+"Why, because the library door was locked, sir!"
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"Because Miss Trevert and Dr. Romain both tried the handle and couldn't
+get in!"
+
+"Ah!" said Manderton, "you mean the door was locked _when the body was
+found!_ Now, as to these voices. Were they men's voices?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I should say so."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because they were deep-like!"
+
+"Was Mr. Hartley Parrish's voice one of them?"
+
+The butler spread out his hands.
+
+"That I couldn't say! I just heard the murmur-like, then shut the
+passage door quickly ..."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Well, sir, I thought ... I didn't want to listen...."
+
+"You thought one of the voices was Mr. Greve's, eh? Having a row with
+Mr. Parrish, eh? About the lady, isn't that right?"
+
+"Aren't you going rather too fast?" said Robin quietly.
+
+But the detective ignored him.
+
+"Come on and answer my question, my man," he said harshly. "Didn't you
+think it was Mr. Hartley Parrish and Mr. Greve here having a bit of a
+dust-up about the young lady being engaged to Mr. Parrish?"
+
+"Well, perhaps I did, but...."
+
+Like a flash the detective turned on Robin.
+
+"What do you know about this?" he demanded fiercely.
+
+"Nothing," said Greve. "As I have told you already, I did not see Mr.
+Parrish alive again after lunch, nor did I speak to him. What I would
+suggest to you now is that upon this evidence of Bude's depends the
+vitally important question of how Mr. Parrish met his death. Though he
+was found with a revolver in his hand, none of us in this house know of
+any good motive for his suicide. I put it to you that the man who can
+furnish us with this motive is the owner of the voice heard by Bude in
+conversation with Mr. Parrish, since obviously nobody other than Mr.
+Parrish and possibly this unknown person was in the library block at the
+time. And I would further remark, Mr. Manderton, that, until the bullet
+has been extracted, we do not know that Mr. Parrish killed
+_himself_..."
+
+"No," said the detective significantly, "we don't!"
+
+He had dropped his eyes to the ground now and was studying the pattern
+of the hearth-rug.
+
+"You say you heard no shot?" he suddenly asked Robin.
+
+"No!"
+
+"No one other than Miss Trevert, I gather, heard the shot?"
+
+"That is so!"
+
+Mr. Manderton consulted a slip of paper which he drew from his pocket.
+
+"Inspector Humphries," he said, "has drawn up a rough time-table of
+events leading up to Mr. Parrish's death, based on the evidence he has
+taken here this evening. You will tell me if it tallies."
+
+He read from the slip:
+
+  5 P.M. Bude sounds the gong for tea.
+
+  5.10   Mr. Greve passes Bude in the hall and goes
+         down the corridor leading to the library.
+         Mr. Greve states he went straight out by
+         the side door into the gardens.
+
+The detective looked up from his reading.
+
+"At 5.12, let us say, Bude comes back from the servants' quarters to the
+hall and hears voices from the library. He closes the passage door. Is
+that right?"
+
+Bude nodded.
+
+"It would be about two minutes after I saw Mr. Greve the first time," he
+agreed.
+
+"Very well!"
+
+The detective resumed his reading.
+
+  5.15 P.M. Miss Trevert goes to fetch Mr. Parrish
+            in to tea. She finds the library door
+            locked. Tries the handle and hears a
+            shot.
+
+5.18 (say) Miss Trevert comes into the lounge hall
+and gives the alarm.
+
+"Now, sir," said Mr. Manderton briskly, "I should like to ask you one or
+two further questions. Firstly, how long were you out on your stroll in
+the dark?"
+
+"I should think about two or three minutes."
+
+"That is to say, if you left the house by the side door at 5.10, you
+were back in the house by 5.13."
+
+"Yes, that would be right," Robin agreed.
+
+"And what did you do when you came in?"
+
+"I went up to my room to fetch a letter for the post."
+
+"Miss Trevert heard the shot fired at 5.15. Where were you at that
+time?"
+
+"In my bedroom, I should say. I was there for a few minutes as I had to
+write a cheque...."
+
+"And where is your bedroom?"
+
+"In the other wing above the billiard-room."
+
+"Hm! A pistol shot makes a great deal of noise. It seems strange that
+nobody in the house should have heard it."
+
+Here Bude interposed.
+
+"Mr. Parrish, sir, was very particular about noise. He had the library
+door and the door leading from the front hall to the library corridor
+specially felted so that he should not hear any sounds from the house
+when he was working in the library. That library wing was absolutely
+shut off from the rest of the house. It was always uncommon quiet...."
+
+But the detective, ignoring him, turned to Robin again.
+
+"I have been round the house," he said. "It does not seem to me it
+ought to take you three or even two minutes to walk from the side door
+to the front door. I should say it would be a matter of about thirty
+seconds!"
+
+"Excuse me," Robin answered quickly, "I didn't say I went straight from
+the side to the front door. I went through the gardens following the
+path that leads to the main drive. There I turned and came back to the
+front door."
+
+"And you assert that you heard nothing?"
+
+"I heard nothing."
+
+"Neither the 'loud voices' which the butler heard within two minutes of
+your leaving the house nor the shot fired five minutes later?"
+
+"I heard nothing."
+
+Mr. Manderton examined the toes of his boots carefully.
+
+"You heard nothing!" he repeated.
+
+The door opened suddenly and Dr. Romain appeared. With him was the
+village practitioner and Inspector Humphries.
+
+Dr. Redstone carried in his hand a little pad of cotton wool. He bore it
+over to the fireplace and unwrapping the lint showed a twisted fragment
+of lead lying on the bloodstained dressing.
+
+"Straight through the heart and lodged in the spine," he said. "Death
+was absolutely instantaneous."
+
+The detective picked up the bullet and scrutinized it closely.
+
+"Browning pistol ammunition," observed Humphries; "it fits the gun he
+used. There's half a dozen spare rounds in one of the drawers of his
+dressing-room upstairs."
+
+Mr. Manderton drew Inspector Humphries and Dr. Redstone into a corner of
+the room where they conversed in undertones. Bude and Jay had vanished.
+Dr. Romain turned to Robin Greve, who stood lost in a reverie, staring
+into the fire.
+
+"A clear case of suicide," he said. "The medical evidence is conclusive
+on that point. A most amazing affair. I can't conceive what drove him to
+it. Why _did_ he do it?"
+
+"Ah! why?" said Robin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+A SMOKING CHIMNEY
+
+
+A Red sun glowed dully through a thin mist when, on the following
+morning, Robin Greve emerged from the side door into the gardens of
+Harkings. It was a still, mild day. Moisture from the night's rain yet
+hung translucent on the black limbs of the bare trees and glistened like
+diamonds on the closely cropped turf of the lawn. In the air was a
+pleasant smell of damp earth.
+
+Robin paused an instant outside the door in the library corridor and
+inhaled the morning air greedily. He had spent a restless, fitful night.
+His sleep had been haunted by the riddle which, since the previous
+evening, had cast its shadow over the pleasant house. The mystery of
+Hartley Parrish's death obsessed him. If it was suicide,--and the
+doctors were both positive on the point--the motive eluded him utterly.
+
+His mind, trained to logical processes of reasoning by his practice of
+the law, baulked at the theory. When he thought of Hartley Parrish as he
+had seen him at luncheon on the day before, striding with his quick,
+vigorous step into the room, boyishly curious to know what the _chef_
+was giving them to eat, devouring his lunch with obvious animal
+enjoyment, brimful of energy, dominating the table with his forceful,
+eager personality....
+
+The sound of voices in the library broke in upon his thoughts. Robin
+raised his head and listened. Some one appeared to be talking in a loud
+voice ... no, not talking ... rather declaiming.
+
+Stepping quietly on the hard gravel path, Robin turned the corner of the
+house and came into view of the library window. The window-pane gaped,
+shattered where Horace Trevert had broken the glass on the previous
+evening when effecting an entrance into the room. Framed in the ragged
+outline of the splintered glass, bulked the large form of Sergeant
+Harris. He stood half turned from the window so as to catch the light on
+a copy of _The Times_ which he held in his red and freckled hands. He
+was reading aloud in stentorian tones from a leading article.
+
+"While this country," he bawled sonorously, "cannot ... in h'our
+belief ... hevade ... er ... responsibility ... er ... h'm disquieting
+sitwation ..."
+
+"Dear me!" thought Robin to himself, "what a very extraordinary morning
+pursuit for our police!"
+
+Suddenly the reading was interrupted.
+
+Robin heard the library door open. Then Manderton's voice cried:
+
+"That'll do, thank you, Sergeant!"
+
+"Did you 'ear me, sir?" asked the sergeant, who seemed very much
+relieved to be quit of his task.
+
+"Not a word!" was the reply. "But we'll try with the library door open!
+I'll go back to the hall and you start again!"
+
+A thoughtful look on his face, Robin turned quickly and, hurrying round
+the side of the house, entered by the front door. Standing by the door
+leading to the library corridor he found Manderton.
+
+The detective did not seem particularly glad to see him.
+
+"Good-morning, Inspector," said Robin affably, "you're early to work, I
+see. Having a little experiment, eh?"
+
+Manderton nodded without replying. Then the stentorian tones of Sergeant
+Harris proclaiming the views of "The Thunderer" on the Silesian
+situation rolled down the corridor and struck distinctly on the ears of
+the listeners in the hall.
+
+Presently Manderton closed the corridor door, shutting off the sound
+abruptly.
+
+"I think you said you could not hear the sergeant with the library door
+shut?" queried Robin suavely.
+
+"With the door shut--no," answered the detective shortly. "But with the
+door open ..."
+
+He broke off significantly and dropped his eyes to his boots.
+
+"Would it be troubling you," Robin struck in, "if we pushed your
+experiment one step farther?"
+
+Manderton lifted his eyes and looked at the young man, Robin met his
+gaze unflinchingly.
+
+"Well?"
+
+There was no invitation in his voice, but Robin affected to disregard
+the other's coldness.
+
+"Let the library door be shut," said Robin, "but leave the glass door
+leading into the garden open. Then give Sergeant Harris another trial at
+his reading...."
+
+The detective smiled rather condescendingly.
+
+"With the library door shut, you'll hear nothing," he remarked.
+
+"The library window is open," Robin retorted, "or rather it is as good
+as open, as one of the two big panes is smashed...."
+
+His voice vibrated with eagerness. The detective looked at him
+curiously.
+
+"Oh, try if you like," he said carelessly.
+
+Without waiting for his assent, Robin had already plucked open the
+corridor door and was halfway down the passage as the other replied. He
+was back again almost at once and, motioning the detective to silence,
+took his place at his side by the open door. Then the sound of the
+policeman's voice was heard from the corridor. It was muffled and
+indistinct so that the sense of his words could not be made out. But the
+voice was audible enough.
+
+Robin turned to the detective.
+
+"Bude could make out no words," he said.
+
+"But how do we know that the glass door was open?" queried the detective
+sceptically.
+
+"Because I left it open myself," Robin countered promptly, "when I went
+out for my walk before tea. Sir Horace told me that he found the door
+banging about in the wind when he went out to get into the library by
+the window."
+
+Mr. Manderton allowed his fat, serious face to expand very slowly into a
+broad, superior smile.
+
+"Doesn't it seem a little curious," he said, "that Mr. Hartley Parrish
+should choose to sit and work in the library on a gusty and dark winter
+evening with the window wide open? You'll allow, I think, that the
+window was not broken until after his death ..."
+
+Robin's nerves were ragged. The man's tone nettled him exceedingly. But
+he confined himself to making a little gesture of impatience.
+
+"No, no, sir," said Mr. Manderton, very decidedly, "I prefer to think
+that the library door was open, left open by the party who went in to
+speak to Mr. Parrish yesterday afternoon ... and who knows more about
+the gentleman's suicide than he would have people think ..."
+
+Robin boiled over fairly at this.
+
+"Good God, man!" he exclaimed, "do you accept this theory of suicide as
+blandly as all that? Have you examined the body? Don't you use your
+eyes? I tell you ... bah, what's the use? I'm not here to do your work
+for you!..."
+
+"No, sir," said the detective, quite unruffled, "you are not. And I
+think I'll continue to see about it myself!"
+
+With that he opened the corridor door and vanished down the passage.
+
+With great deliberation Robin selected a cigarette from his case, lit
+it, and walked out through the front door into the fresh air again. More
+than ever he felt the riddle of Hartley Parrish's death weighing upon
+his mind.
+
+His intuitive sense rebelled against the theory of suicide, despite the
+medical evidence, despite the revolver in the dead man's hand, despite
+the detective's assurance. And floating about in his brain, like the
+gossamer on the glistening bushes in the gardens, were broken threads of
+vague suspicions, of half-formed theories, leading from his hasty
+observations in the death chamber ...
+
+In itself the death of Hartley Parrish left him cold. Yes, he must admit
+that. But the look in Mary Trevert's eyes, as she had urged him to
+shield himself from the suspicion of having driven Hartley Parrish to
+his death, haunted him. Already dimly he was beginning to realize that
+Hartley Parrish in death might prove as insuperable a bar between him
+and Mary Trevert as ever he had been in life ...
+
+She was now a wealthy woman. Hartley Parrish's will had ensured that, he
+knew. But it was not the barrier of riches that Robin Greve feared. He
+had asked Mary Trevert to be his wife before there was any thought of
+her inheriting Parrish's fortune. He derived a little consolation from
+that reflection. At least he could not appear as a fortune-hunter in her
+eyes. But, until he could clear himself of the suspicion lurking in Mary
+Trevert's mind that he, Robin Greve, was in some way implicated in
+Hartley Parrish's death, the dead man, he felt, would always stand
+between them. And so ...
+
+Robin pitched the stump of his cigarette into a rose bush with a little
+gesture of resignation. Almost without knowing it, he had strolled into
+the rosery up a shallow flight of steps cut into the bank of green
+turf, which ran along the side of the house facing the library window to
+the corner of the house where it met the clipped box-hedge of the
+Pleasure Ground.
+
+The rosery was a pleasant rectangle framed in a sort of rustic bower
+which in the summer was covered with superb roses of every hue and
+variety. Gravel paths intersected rose-beds cut into all manner of
+fantastic shapes where stood the slender shoots of the young rose-trees
+each with its tag setting forth its kind, for Hartley Parrish had been
+an enthusiastic amateur in this direction.
+
+Robin turned round and faced the house. From his elevation he could look
+down into the library through the window with its shattered pane. He
+could see the gleaming polish on Hartley Parrish's big desk and the
+great arm-chair pushed back as Hartley Parrish had pushed it from him
+just before his death.
+
+The bare poles of the woodwork festooned with the black arms of the
+creeping roses, standing out dark in the fast falling winter evening,
+must, he reflected, have been the last view that Hartley Parrish had had
+before ...
+
+But then he broke off his meditations abruptly. His eye had fallen on a
+narrow white patch standing out on one of the uprights supporting the
+clambering roses.
+
+It was a stout young tree, the light brown bark left adhering to its
+surface. It was a long blaze on the bark on the side of the trunk which
+had caught his eye. Robin walked round the gravel path until he was
+within a foot of the pole to get a better view.
+
+The pole stood almost exactly opposite the library window. The scar in
+the bark was high up and diagonal and quite freshly made, for the wood
+was dead white and much splintered.
+
+The young man put a hand on the upright for support and leant forward,
+carefully refraining from putting his foot on the soft brown mould of
+the flower-bed which fringed the path between it and the rustic
+woodwork. Then he ran lightly down the steps until he stood with his
+back to the library window. From here he carefully surveyed the upright
+again, then, returning to the rosery, began a careful scrutiny of the
+gravel paths and the beds.
+
+Apparently his search gave little result, for he presently abandoned it
+and turned his attention to the wooden framework on the other side of
+the rectangular rose-garden. He plunged boldly in among the rose-bushes
+and examined each upright in turn. He spent about half an hour in this
+meticulous investigation, and then, his boots covered with mould, his
+rough shooting-coat glistening with moisture, he walked slowly down the
+steps and reentered the house.
+
+As he was wiping the mud off his boots on the great mat in the front
+hall, Bude came out of the lounge hall with a pile of dishes on a tray.
+
+"Bude," said Robin, "can you tell me if the fire in the library has been
+smoking of late?"
+
+"Well, sir," replied the butler, "we've always had trouble with that
+chimdy when the wind's in the southwest."
+
+"Has it been smoking lately?" The young man reiterated his question
+impatiently.
+
+The man looked up in surprise.
+
+"Well, sir, now you come to mention it, it has. As a matter o'fact, sir,
+the sweep was ordered for to-day ..."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Well, sir, Mr. Parrish had mentioned it to me ..."
+
+"When?"
+
+The question came out like a pistol shot.
+
+"Yesterday, sir," answered the butler blandly. "Just before luncheon, it
+was, sir. Mr. Parrish told me to have that chimdy seen to at once. And I
+telephoned for the sweep immediately after luncheon, sir ..."
+
+"Did Mr. Parrish say anything else, Bude?"
+
+Robin eagerly scanned the butler's fat, unimpressive countenance. Bude,
+his tray held out stiffly in front of him, contracted his bushy eyebrows
+in thought.
+
+"I don't know as he did, sir ..."
+
+"Think, man, think!" Robin urged.
+
+"Well, sir," said Bude, unmoved, "I believe, now I come to think of it,
+that Mr. Parrish did say something about the wind blowing his papers
+about ..."
+
+"That is to say, he had been working with the window open?"
+
+Robin Greve's question rang out sharply. It was an affirmation more than
+a question.
+
+"Yes, sir, leastways I suppose so, sir ..."
+
+"Which window?"
+
+"Why, the one Mr. Parrish always liked to have open in the warm weather,
+sir, ... the one opposite the desk. The other window was never opened,
+sir, because of the dictaphone as stands in front of it. The damp
+affects the mechanism ..."
+
+"Thank you, Bude," said the young man.
+
+With his accustomed majesty the butler wheeled to go. In the turn of his
+head as he moved there was a faint suggestion of a shake ... a shake of
+uncomprehending pity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+"... SPEED THE PARTING GUEST!"
+
+
+Dr. Romain was just finishing his breakfast as Robin Greve entered the
+dining-room, a cosy oak-panelled room with a bow window fitted with
+cushioned window-seats. Horace Trevert stood with his back to the fire.
+There was no sign of either Lady Margaret or of Mary. Silence seemed to
+fall on both the doctor and his companion as Robin came in. They wore
+that rather abashed look which people unconsciously assume when they
+break off a conversation on an unexpected entry.
+
+"Morning, Horace! Morning, Doctor!" said Robin, crossing to the
+sideboard. "Any sign of Lady Margaret or Mary yet?"
+
+The doctor had risen hastily to his feet.
+
+"I rather think Dr. Redstone is expecting me," he said rapidly; "I half
+promised to go over to Stevenish ... think I'll just run over. The
+walk'll do me good ..."
+
+He looked rather wildly about him, then fairly bolted from the room.
+
+Robin, the cover of the porridge dish in his hand, turned and stared at
+him.
+
+"Why, whatever's the matter with Romain?" he began.
+
+But Horace, who had not spoken a word, was himself halfway to the door.
+
+"Horace!" called out Robin sharply.
+
+The boy stopped with his back towards the other. But he did not turn
+round.
+
+Robin put the cover back on the porridge dish and crossed the room.
+
+"You all seem in the deuce of a hurry this morning ..." he said.
+
+Still the boy made no reply.
+
+"Why, Horace, what's the matter?"
+
+Robin put his hand on young Trevert's shoulder. Horace shook him roughly
+off.
+
+"I don't care to discuss it with you, Robin!" he said.
+
+Robin deliberately swung the boy round until he faced him.
+
+"My dear old thing," he expostulated. "What does it all mean? _What_
+won't you discuss with me?"
+
+Horace Trevert looked straight at the speaker. His upper lip was pouted
+and trembled a little.
+
+"What's the use of talking?" he said. "You know what I mean. Or would
+you like me to be plainer ..."
+
+Robin met his gaze unflinchingly.
+
+"I certainly would," he said, "if it's going to enlighten me as to why
+you should suddenly choose to behave like a lunatic ..."
+
+Horace Trevert leant back and thrust his hands into his pockets.
+
+"After what happened here yesterday," he said, speaking very clearly and
+deliberately, "I wonder you have the nerve to stay ..."
+
+"My dear Horace," said Robin quite impassively, "would you mind being a
+little more explicit? What precisely are you accusing me of? What have I
+done?"
+
+"Done?" exclaimed the young man heatedly. "Done? Good God! Don't you
+realize that you have dragged my sister into this wretched business?
+Don't you understand that her name will be bandied about before a lot of
+rotten yokels at the inquest?"
+
+Robin Greve's eyes glittered dangerously.
+
+"I confess," he said, with elaborate politeness, "I scarcely understand
+what it has to do with me that Hartley Parrish should apparently commit
+suicide within a few days of becoming engaged to your sister ..."
+
+"Ha!"
+
+Horace Trevert snorted indignantly.
+
+"You don't understand, don't you? We don't understand either. But, I
+must say, we thought _you_ did!"
+
+With that he turned to go. But Robin caught him by the arm.
+
+"Listen to me, Horace," he said. "I'm not going to quarrel with you in
+this house of death. But you're going to tell here and now what you
+meant by that remark. Do you understand? I'm going to know!"
+
+Horace Trevert shook himself free.
+
+"Certainly you shall know," he answered with _hauteur_, "but I must say
+I should have thought that, as a lawyer and so on, you would have
+guessed my meaning without my having to explain. What I mean is that,
+now that Hartley Parrish is dead, there is only one man who knows what
+drove him to his death. And that's yourself! Do you want it plainer than
+that?"
+
+Robin took a step back and looked at his friend. But he did not speak.
+
+"And now," the boy continued, "perhaps you will realize that your
+presence here is disagreeable to Mary ..."
+
+"Did Mary ask you to tell me this?" Robin broke in.
+
+His voice had lost its hardness. It was almost wistful. The change of
+tone was so marked that it struck Horace. He hesitated an instant.
+
+"Yes," he blurted out. "She doesn't want to see you again. I don't want
+to be offensive, Robin.."
+
+"Please don't apologize," said Greve. "I quite understand that this is
+your sister's house now and, of course, I shall leave at once. I'll ask
+Jay to pack my things if you could order the car ..."
+
+The boy moved towards the door. Before he reached it Robin called him
+back.
+
+"Horace," he said pleasantly, "before you go I want you to answer me a
+question. Think before you speak, because it's very important. When you
+got into the library yesterday evening through the window, you smashed
+the glass, didn't you?"
+
+Horace Trevert nodded.
+
+"Yes," he replied, looking hard at Robin.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"To get into the room, of course!"
+
+"Was the window bolted?"
+
+The boy stopped and thought.
+
+"No," he said slowly, "now I come to think of it, I don't believe it
+was. No, of course, it wasn't. I just put my arm through the broken pane
+and shoved the window up. But why do you ask?"
+
+"Oh, nothing," answered Robin nonchalantly. "I just was curious to know,
+that's all!"
+
+Horace stood and looked at him for an instant. Then he went out.
+
+A quarter of an hour later, Hartley Parrish's Rolls-Royce glided through
+the straggling main street of Stevenish. A chapel bell tinkled
+unmusically, and on the pavements, gleaming with wet, went a procession
+of neatly dressed townsfolk bound, prayer-book in hand, for their
+respective places of worship. A newsboy, sorting out the Sunday
+newspapers which had just come down by train from London, was the only
+figure visible on the little station platform. Robin bought a selection.
+
+"There's all about Mr. Parrish," said the boy, "'im as they found dead
+up at 'Arkings las' night. And the noospapers 'asn't 'arf been sendin'
+down to-day ... reporters and photographers ... you oughter seen the
+crowd as come by the mornin' train ..."
+
+"I wonder what they'll get out of Manderton," commented Robin rather
+grimly to himself as his train puffed leisurely, after the habit of
+Sunday trains, into the quiet little station.
+
+In the solitude of his first-class smoker he unfolded the newspapers.
+None had more than the brief fact that Hartley Parrish had been found
+dead with a pistol in his hand, but they made up for the briefness of
+their reports by long accounts of the dead man's "meteoric career."
+And, Robin noted with relief, hitherto Mary Trevert's name was out of
+the picture.
+
+He dropped the papers on to the seat, and, as the train steamed serenely
+through the Sunday calm of the country towards London's outer suburbs,
+he reviewed in his mind such facts as he had gleaned regarding the
+circumstances of his late host's death.
+
+He would, he told himself, accept for the time being as _facts_ what, he
+admitted to himself, so far only seemed to be such. Hartley Parrish,
+then, had been seated in his library at his desk with the door locked.
+The fire was smoking, and therefore he had opened the window. According
+to Horace Trevert, the window had not been bolted when he had entered
+the library, for, after smashing the pane in the assumption that the
+bolt was shot, he had had no difficulty in pushing up the window.
+Hartley Parrish had opened the window himself, for on the nail of the
+middle finger of his left hand Robin had seen, with the aid of the
+magnifying-glass, a tiny fragment of white paint.
+
+Who had closed it? He had no answer ready to _that_ question.
+
+Now, as to the circumstances of the shooting. The suicide theory invited
+one to believe that Hartley Parrish had got up from his desk, pushing
+back his chair, had gone round it until he stood between the desk and
+the window, and had there shot himself through the heart. Why should he
+have done this?
+
+Robin had no answer ready to this question either. He passed on again.
+Bude had heard loud voices a very few minutes before Mary had heard the
+shot. That morning's experiments had shown that Bude could have heard
+these sounds only by way of the open window of the library and the open
+doors of the garden and the library corridor. Additional proof, if Bude
+had heard aright, that the library window was open.
+
+Leaning back in his seat, his finger-tips pressed together, Robin Greve
+resolutely faced the situation to which his deductions were leading him.
+
+"The voice heard at the open window," he told himself, "was the voice of
+the man who murdered Parrish and who closed the window, that is, of
+course, if the murder theory proves more conclusive than that of
+suicide."
+
+This brought him back to his investigations in the rosery. The abrasure
+he had discovered on the timber upright was the mark of a bullet and a
+mark freshly made at that. Moreover, it had almost certainly been fired
+from the library window--from the window which Parrish had opened; the
+angle at which it had struck and marked the tree showed that almost
+conclusively.
+
+Yet there had been but one shot! If only he had been able to find that
+bullet in the rosery! Robin thought ruefully of his long hunt among the
+sopping rose-bushes.
+
+Yes, there had been only one shot. Mary Trevert had stated it
+definitely. Besides, the bullet that had killed Hartley Parrish had been
+fired from his own revolver and had been found in the body. Robin Greve
+felt the murder theory collapsing about him. But the suicide theory did
+not stand up, either. What possible, probable motive had Hartley Parrish
+for taking his own life?
+
+"He wasn't the man to do it!"
+
+The wheels of the train took up the rhythm of the phrase and dinned it
+into his ears.
+
+"He wasn't the man to do it!"
+
+The riddle seemed more baffling than ever.
+
+Robin thrust one hand into his right-hand pocket to get his pipe, his
+other hand into his left-hand pocket to find his pouch. His left hand
+came into contact with a little ball of paper.
+
+He drew it out. It was the little ball of slatey-blue paper he had found
+on the floor of the library beside Hartley Parrish's dead body.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+MR. MANDERTON IS NONPLUSSED
+
+
+Horace Trevert walked abruptly into Mary's Chinese boudoir. Lady
+Margaret and the girl were standing by the fire.
+
+"Well," said Horace, dropping into a chair, "he's gone!"
+
+"Who?" said Lady Margaret.
+
+"Robin," answered the boy, "and I must say he took it very well ..."
+
+"You don't mean to tell me, Horace," said his mother, "that you have
+actually sent Robin Greve away ...?"
+
+Mary Trevert put her hand on her mother's arm.
+
+"I wished it, Mother. I asked Horace to send him away ..."
+
+"But, my dear," protested Lady Margaret.
+
+Mary interrupted her impatiently.
+
+"Robin Greve was impossible here. I had to ask him to go. I suppose he
+can come back if ... if they want him for the inquest ..."
+
+Lady Margaret was looking at her daughter in a puzzled way. She was a
+woman of the world and had brought her daughter up to be a woman of the
+world. She knew that Mary was not impulsive by nature. She knew that
+there was a wealth of good sense behind those steady eyes.
+
+In response to a look from his mother, Horace got up and left the room.
+
+"Mary, dear," said the older woman, "don't you think you are making a
+mistake?"
+
+The girl turned away, one slim shoe tapping restlessly against the brass
+rail of the fireplace.
+
+"My dear," her mother went on, "remember I have known Robin Greve all
+his life. His father, the Admiral, was a very old friend of mine. He was
+the very personification of honour. Robin is very fond of you ... no, he
+has told me nothing, but I _know_. Don't you think it is rather hard on
+an old friend to turn him away just when you most want him?"
+
+There was a heightened colour in the girl's face as she turned and
+looked her mother in the face.
+
+"Robin has not behaved like a friend, Mother," she answered. "He knows
+more than he pretends about ... about this. And he lets me find out
+things from the servants when he ought to have told me himself. If he is
+suspected of having said something to Hartley which made him do this
+dreadful thing, he has only himself to thank. I _did_ try to shield
+him--before I knew. But I'm not going to do so any more. If he stays I
+shall have the police suspecting me all the time. And I owe something
+to Hartley ..."
+
+Her mother sighed a soft little sigh. She said nothing. She was a very
+wise woman.
+
+"Robin left me to go to the library ... I am sure of that ..." Mary went
+on breathlessly.
+
+"Why?" her mother asked.
+
+The girl hesitated.
+
+Then she said slowly:
+
+"You and I have always been good pals, Mother, so I may as well tell
+you. Robin had just asked me to marry him. So I told him I was engaged
+to Hartley. He went on in the most awful way, and said that I was
+selling myself and that I would not be the first girl that Hartley had
+kept ..."
+
+She broke off and raised her hands to her face. Then she put her elbows
+on the mantel-shelf and burst into tears.
+
+"Oh, it was hateful," she sobbed.
+
+Her mother put her arm round her soothingly.
+
+"Well, my dear," she said, "Robin was always fond of you, and I dare say
+it was a shock to him. When men feel like that about a girl they
+generally say things they don't mean ..."
+
+Mary Trevert straightened herself up and dropped her hands to her side.
+She faced her mother, the tear-drops glistening on her long lashes.
+
+"He meant it, every word of it. And he was perfectly right. I _was_
+selling myself, and you know I was, Mother. Do you think we can go on
+for ever like this, living on credit and dodging tradesmen? I meant to
+marry Hartley and stick to him. But I never thought ... I never
+guessed ... that Robin ..."
+
+"I know, my dear," her mother interposed, "I know. Perhaps it doesn't
+sound a very proper thing to say in the circumstances, but now that poor
+Hartley is gone, there is no reason whatsoever why you and Robin ..."
+
+The Treverts were a hot-tempered race. Lady Margaret's unfinished
+sentence seemed to infuriate the girl.
+
+"Do you think I'd marry Robin Greve as long as I thought he knew the
+mystery of Hartley's death!" she cried passionately. "I was willing to
+give up my self-respect once to save us from ruin, but I won't do it
+again. I'm not surprised to find you thinking I am ready to marry Robin
+and live happy ever after on poor Hartley's money. But I've not sunk so
+low as that! If you ever mention this to me again, Mother, I promise you
+I'll go away and never come back!"
+
+"My dear child," temporized Lady Margaret, eyebrows raised in protest
+at this outburst, "of course, it shall be as you wish. I only
+thought ..."
+
+But Mary Trevert was not listening. She leant on the mantel-shelf, her
+dark head in her hands, and she murmured:
+
+"The tragedy of it! My God, the tragedy of it!"
+
+Lady Margaret twisted the rings on her long white fingers.
+
+"The tragedy of it, my dear," she said, "is that you have sent away the
+man you love at a time when you will never need him so badly again ..."
+
+There was a discreet tapping at the door.
+
+"Come in!" said Lady Margaret.
+
+Bude appeared.
+
+"Mr. Manderton, the detective, my lady, was wishing to know whether he
+might see Miss Trevert ..."
+
+"Yes. Ask him to come up here," commanded Lady Margaret.
+
+"He is without--in the corridor, my lady!"
+
+He stepped back and in a moment Mr. Manderton stepped into the room,
+big, burly, and determined.
+
+He made a little stiff bow to the two ladies and halted irresolute near
+the door.
+
+"You wished to see my daughter, Mr. Manderton," said Lady Margaret.
+
+The detective bowed again.
+
+"And you, too, my lady," he said. "Allow me!"
+
+He closed the door, then crossed to the fireplace.
+
+"After I had seen you and Miss Trevert last night, my lady," he began,
+"I had a talk with Mr. Jeekes, Mr. Parrish's principal secretary, who
+came down by car from London as soon as he heard the news. My lady, I
+think this is a fairly simple case!"
+
+He paused and scanned the carpet.
+
+"Mr. Jeekes tells me, my lady," he went on presently, "that Mrs Parrish
+had been suffering from neurasthenia and a weak heart brought on by too
+much smoking. It appears that he had consulted, within the last two
+months, two leading specialists of Harley Street about his health. One
+of these gentlemen, Sir Winterton Maire, ordered him to knock off all
+work and all smoking for at least three months. He will give evidence to
+this effect at the inquest. Mr. Parrish disregarded these orders as he
+was wishful to put through his scheme for Hornaway's before taking a
+rest. Mr. Jeekes can prove that. In these circumstances, my lady...."
+
+"Well?"
+
+Lady Margaret, in her black crepe de chine dress, setting off the
+silvery whiteness of her hair, was a calm, unemotional figure as she sat
+in her lacquer chair.
+
+"Well?" she asked again.
+
+"Well," said the detective, "the verdict will be one of 'Suicide whilst
+of unsound mind,' and in my opinion the medical evidence will be
+sufficient to bring that in. There will not be occasion, I fancy, my
+lady, to probe any farther into the motives of Mr. Parrish's action...."
+
+"And are you personally satisfied"--Mary's voice broke in clear and
+unimpassioned--"are you personally satisfied, Mr. Manderton, that Mr.
+Parrish shot himself?"
+
+The detective cast an appealing glance at the tips of his well-burnished
+boots.
+
+"Yes, Miss, I think I may say I am...."
+
+"And what about the evidence of Bude, who said he heard voices in the
+library...."
+
+Mr. Manderton gave his shoulders the merest suspicion of a shrug, raised
+his hands, and dropped them to his sides.
+
+"I had hoped, my lady," he said, throwing a glance at Lady Margaret,
+"and you, Miss, that I had made it clear that in the circumstances we
+need not pursue that matter any further...."
+
+Lady Margaret rose. Her dominating personality seemed to fill the room.
+
+"We are extremely obliged to you, Mr. Manderton," she said, "for the
+able and discreet way in which you have handled this case. I sometimes
+meet the Chief Commissioner at dinner. I shall write to Sir Maurice and
+tell him my opinion."
+
+Mr. Manderton reddened a little.
+
+"Your ladyship is too good," he said.
+
+Lady Margaret bowed to signify that the interview was at an end. But
+Mary Trevert left her side and walked to the door.
+
+"Will you come downstairs with me, Mr. Manderton," she said. "I should
+like to speak to you alone for a minute!"
+
+She led the way downstairs through the hall and out into the drive. A
+pale sun shone down from a grey and rainy sky, and the damp breeze
+blowing from the sodden trees played among the ringlets of her dark
+hair.
+
+"We will walk down the drive," she said to the detective, who, rather
+astonished, had followed her. "We can talk freely out of doors."
+
+They took a dozen steps in silence. Then she said:
+
+"Who was it speaking to Mr. Parrish in the library?"
+
+"Undoubtedly Mr. Greve," replied the man without hesitation.
+
+"Why undoubtedly?" asked the girl.
+
+"It could have been no one else. We know that he left you hot to get at
+Mr. Parrish and have words with him. Bude heard them talking with voices
+raised aloud...."
+
+"But if the door were locked?"
+
+"Mr. Parrish may have opened it and locked it again, Mr. Greve getting
+out by the window. But there are no traces of that ... one would look to
+find marks on the paint on the inside. Besides, a little test we made
+this morning suggests that Mr. Greve spoke to Mr. Parrish through the
+window...."
+
+"Was the window open?"
+
+"Yes, Miss, it probably was. The fire had been smoking in the library.
+Mr. Parrish had complained to Bude about it. Besides, we have found Mr.
+Parrish's finger-prints on the inside of the window-frame. Outside we
+found other finger-prints ... Sir Horace's. Sir Horace was good enough
+to allow his to be taken."
+
+The girl looked at the detective quickly.
+
+"Were there any other finger-prints except Horace's on the outside?" she
+asked.
+
+Mr. Manderton shook his head.
+
+"No, Miss," he answered.
+
+They had reached the lodge-gates at the beginning of the drive and
+turned to retrace their steps to the house.
+
+"Then we shall never know exactly why Mr. Parrish did this thing?"
+hazarded Mary.
+
+Mr. Manderton darted her a surreptitious glance.
+
+"We shall see about that," he said.
+
+There was menace in his voice.
+
+Mary Trevert stopped. She put her hand on the detective's arm.
+
+"Mr. Manderton," she said, "if you are satisfied, then, believe me, I
+am!"
+
+The detective bowed.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he said,--and he spoke perfectly respectfully though his
+words were blunt,--"I can well believe that!"
+
+The girl looked up quickly. She scanned his face rather apprehensively.
+
+"What do you mean?" she asked, "I don't understand...."
+
+"I mean," was the detective's answer, given in his quiet, level voice,
+"that when you attempted to mislead Inspector Humphries you did nobody
+any good!"
+
+The girl bent her head without replying, and in silence they regained
+the house. At the house door they parted, Mary going indoors while the
+detective remained standing on the drive. Very deliberately he produced
+a short briar pipe, cut a stub of dark plug tobacco from a flat piece he
+carried in his pocket, crammed the tobacco into his pipe, and lit it.
+Reflectively he blew a thin spiral of smoke into the still air.
+
+"_He_ told me about that fat butler's evidence," he said to himself;
+"_he_ put me wise about that window being open; _he_ gave me the office
+about the paint on the finger-nails of Mr. H.P."
+
+He ticked off each point on his fingers with the stem of his pipe.
+
+"Why?" said Mr. Manderton aloud, addressing a laurel-bush.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+JEEKES
+
+
+Mr. Albert Edward Jeekes, Hartley Parrish's principal private secretary,
+lunched with Lady Margaret, Mary and Horace. Dr. Romain seemed not to
+have got over his embarrassment of the morning, for he did not put in an
+appearance.
+
+Mr. Jeekes was an old young man who supported bravely the weight of his
+Christian names, a reminder of his mother having occupied some small
+post in the household of Queen Victoria the Good. He might have been any
+age between 35 and 50 with his thin sandy hair, his myopic gaze, and his
+habitual expression of worried perplexity.
+
+He was a shorthand-writer and typist of incredible dexterity and speed
+which, combined with an unquenchable energy, had recommended him to
+Hartley Parrish. Accordingly, in consideration of a salary which he
+would have been the first to describe as "princely," he had during the
+past four years devoted some fifteen hours a day to the service of Mr.
+Hartley Parrish.
+
+He was unmarried. When not on duty, either at St. James's Square,
+Harkings, or Hartley Parrish's palatial offices in Broad Street, he was
+to be found at one of those immense and gloomy clubs of indiscriminate
+membership which are dotted about the parish of St. James's, S.W., and
+to which Mr. Jeekes was in the habit of referring in Early-Victorian
+accents of respect.
+
+"When I heard the news at the club, Miss Trevert," said Jeekes, "you
+could have knocked me down with a feather. Mr. Parrish, as all of us
+knew, worked himself a great deal too hard, sometimes not knocking off
+for his tea, even, and wore his nerves all to pieces. But I never
+dreamed it would come to this. Ah! he's a great loss, and what we shall
+do without him I don't know. There was a piece in one of the papers
+about him to-day--perhaps you saw it?--it called him 'one of the
+captains of industry of modern England.'"
+
+"You were always a great help to him, Mr. Jeekes," said Mary, who was
+touched by the little man's hero-worship; "I am sure you realized that
+he appreciated you."
+
+"Well," replied Mr. Jeekes, rubbing the palms of his hands together, "he
+did a great deal for _me_. Took me out of a City office where I was
+getting two pound five a week. That's what he did. It was a shipping
+firm. I tell you this because it has a bearing, Miss Trevert, on what
+is to follow. Why did he pick me? I'll tell you.
+
+"He was passing through the front office with one of our principals when
+he asked him, just casually, what Union Pacific stood at. The boss
+didn't know.
+
+"'A hundred and eighty-seven London parity,' says I. He turned round and
+looked at me. 'How do you know that?' says he, rather surprised, this
+being in a shipping office, you understand.
+
+"'I take an interest in the markets,' I replied. 'Do you?' he says.
+'Then you might do for me,' and tells me to come and see him."
+
+"I went. He made me an offer. When I heard the figure ... my word!"
+
+Mr. Jeekes paused. Then added sadly:
+
+"And I had meant to work for him to my dying day!"
+
+They were in the billiard-room seated on the selfsame settee, Mary
+reflected, on which she and Robin had sat--how long ago it seemed,
+though only yesterday! Mary had carried the secretary off after luncheon
+in order to unfold to him a plan which she had been turning over in her
+mind ever since her conversation with the detective.
+
+"And what are you going to do now, Mr. Jeekes?" she asked.
+
+The little man pursed up his lips.
+
+"Well," he said, "I'll have to get something else, I expect. I'm not
+expecting to find anything so good as I had with Mr. Parrish. And things
+are pretty crowded in the City, Miss Trevert, what with all the boys
+back from the war, God bless 'em, and glad we are to see 'em, I'm sure.
+I hope you'll realize, Miss Trevert, that anything I can do to help to
+put Mr. Parrish's affairs straight...."
+
+"I was just about to say," Mary broke in, "that I hope you will not
+contemplate any change, Mr. Jeekes. You know more about Mr. Parrish's
+affairs than anybody else, and I shall be very glad if you will stay on
+and help me. You know I have been left sole executrix...."
+
+"Miss Trevert,"--the little man stammered in his embarrassment,--"this
+is handsome of you. I surely thought you would have wished to make your
+own arrangements, appoint your own secretaries...."
+
+Mr. Jeekes broke off and looked at her, blinking hard.
+
+"Not at all," said Mary. "Everything shall be as it was. I am sure that
+Mr. Bardy will approve. Besides, Mr. Jeekes, I want your assistance in
+something else...."
+
+"Anything in my power...." began Jeekes.
+
+"Listen," said Mary.
+
+She was all her old self-composed self now, a charming figure in her
+plain blue serge suit with a white silken shirt and black tie--the best
+approach to mourning her wardrobe could afford. Already the short winter
+afternoon was drawing in. Mysterious shadows lurked in the corners of
+the long and narrow room.
+
+"Listen," said Mary, leaning forward. "I want to know why Mr. Parrish
+killed himself. I mean to know. And I want you, Mr. Jeekes, to help me
+to find out."
+
+Something stirred ever so faintly in the remote recesses of the
+billiard-room. A loose board or something creaked softly and was silent.
+
+"What was that?" the girl called out sharply. "Who's there?"
+
+Mr. Jeekes got up and walked over to the door. It was ajar. He closed
+it.
+
+"Just a board creaking," he said as he resumed his seat.
+
+"I want your aid in finding out the motive for this terrible
+deed,"--Mary Trevert was speaking again,--"I can't understand.... I
+don't see clear...."
+
+"Miss Trevert," said Mr. Jeekes, clearing his throat fussily, "I fear we
+must look for the motive in the state of poor Mr. Parrish's nerves. An
+uncommonly high-strung man he always was, and he smoked those long
+black strong cigars of his from morning till night. Sir Winterton Maire
+told him flatly--Mr. Parrish, I recollect, repeated his very words to me
+after Sir Winterton had examined him--that, if he did not take a
+complete rest and give up smoking, he would not be answerable for the
+consequences. Therefore, Miss Trevert...."
+
+"Mr. Jeekes," answered the girl, "I knew Mr. Parrish pretty well. A
+woman, you know, gets to the heart of a man's character very often
+quicker than his daily associates in business. And I know that Mr.
+Parrish was the last man in the world to have done a thing like that. He
+was so ... so undaunted. He made nothing of difficulties. He relied
+wholly on himself. That was the secret of his success. For him to have
+killed himself like this makes me feel convinced that there was some
+hidden reason, far stronger, far more terrible, than any question of
+nerves...."
+
+Leaning forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, Mary Trevert
+raised her dark eyes to the little secretary's face.
+
+"Many men have a secret in their lives," she said in a low voice. "Do
+you know of anything in Mr. Parrish's life which an enemy might have
+made use of to drive him to his death?"
+
+Her manner was so intense that Mr. Jeekes quite lost his
+self-composure. He clutched at his _pince-nez_ and readjusted them upon
+his nose to cover his embarrassment. The secretary was not used to
+gazing at beautiful women whose expressive features showed as clearly as
+this the play of the emotions.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he said presently, "I know of no such secret. But then
+what do I--what does any one--know of Mr. Parrish's former life?"
+
+"We might make enquiries in South Africa?" ventured the girl.
+
+"I doubt if we should learn anything much through that," said the
+secretary. "Of course, Mr. Parrish had great responsibilities and
+responsibility means worry...."
+
+A silence fell on them both. From somewhere in the dark shadows above
+the fire glowing red through the falling twilight a clock chimed once.
+There was a faint rustling from the neighborhood of the door. Mr. Jeekes
+started violently. A coal dropped noisily into the fireplace.
+
+"There was something else," said Mary, ignoring the interruption, and
+paused. She did not look up when she spoke again.
+
+"There is often a woman in cases like this," she began reluctantly.
+
+Mr. Jeekes looked extremely uncomfortable.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he said, "I beg you will not press me on that
+score...."
+
+"Why?" asked the girl bluntly.
+
+"Because ... because"--Mr. Jeekes stumbled sadly over his
+words--"because, dear me, there are some things which really I couldn't
+possibly discuss ... if you'll excuse me...."
+
+"Oh, but you can discuss everything, Mr. Jeekes," replied Mary Trevert
+composedly. "I am not a child, you know. I am perfectly well aware that
+there's a woman somewhere in the life of every man, very often two or
+three. I haven't got any illusions on the subject, I assure you. I never
+supposed for a moment that I was the first woman in Mr. Parrish's
+life...."
+
+This candour seemed to administer a knock-out blow to the little
+secretary's Victorian mind. He was speechless. He took off his
+_pince-nez_, blindly polished them with his pocket-handkerchief and
+replaced them upon his nose. His fingers trembled violently.
+
+"I have no wish to appear vulgarly curious," the girl went on,--Mr.
+Jeekes made a quick gesture of dissent,--"but I am anxious to know
+whether Mr. Parrish was being blackmailed ... or anything like that...."
+
+"Oh, no, Miss Trevert, I do assure you," the little man expostulated in
+hasty denial, "nothing like that, I am convinced. At least, that is to
+say ..."
+
+He rose to his feet, clutching the little _attache_ case which he
+invariably carried with him as a kind of emblem of office.
+
+"And now, if you'll excuse me, Miss Trevert," he muttered, "I should
+really be going. I am due at Mr. Bardy's office at five o'clock. He is
+coming up from the country specially to meet me. There is so much to
+discuss with regard to this terrible affair."
+
+He glanced at his watch.
+
+"With the roads as greasy as they are," he added, "it will take me all
+my time in the car to ..."
+
+He cast a panic-stricken glance around him. But Mary Trevert held him
+fast.
+
+"You didn't finish what you were saying about Mr. Parrish, Mr. Jeekes,"
+she said impassively. The secretary made no sign. But he looked a trifle
+sullen.
+
+"I don't think you realize, Mr. Jeekes," she said, "that other people
+besides myself are keenly interested in the motives for Mr. Parrish's
+suicide. The police profess to be willing to accept the testimony of the
+specialists as satisfactory medical evidence about his state of mind.
+But I distrust that man, Manderton. He is not satisfied, Mr. Jeekes. He
+won't rest until he knows the truth."
+
+The secretary cast her a frightened glance.
+
+"But Mr. Manderton told me himself, Miss Trevert," he affirmed, "that
+the verdict would be, 'Suicide while temporarily insane,' on Sir
+Winterton Maire's evidence alone ..."
+
+Mary Trevert tapped the ground impatiently with her foot.
+
+"Manderton will get at the truth, I tell you," she said. "He's that kind
+of man. Do you want me to find out from them? At the inquest, perhaps?"
+
+The secretary put his _attache_ case down on the lounge again.
+
+"Of course, that would be most improper, Miss Trevert," he said. "But
+your question embarrasses me. It embarrasses me very much ..."
+
+"What are you keeping back from me, Mr. Jeekes?" the girl demanded
+imperiously.
+
+The secretary mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. Then, as though
+with an effort, he spoke.
+
+"There is a lady, a French lady, who draws an income from Mr. Parrish ..."
+
+The girl remained impassive, but her eyes grew rather hard.
+
+"These payments are still going on?" she asked.
+
+Jeekes hesitated. Then he nodded,
+
+"Yes," he said.
+
+"Well? Was she blackmailing ... him?"
+
+"No, no," Mr. Jeekes averred hastily. "But there was some unpleasantness
+some months ago ... er ... a county court action, to be precise, about
+some bills she owed. Mr. Parrish was very angry about it and settled to
+prevent it coming into court. But there was some talk about it ... in
+legal circles ..."
+
+He threw a rather scared glance at the girl.
+
+"Please explain yourself, Mr. Jeekes," she said coldly. "I don't
+understand ..."
+
+"Her lawyer was Le Hagen--it's a shady firm with a big criminal
+practice. They sometimes brief Mr. Greve ..."
+
+Mary Trevert clasped and unclasped her hands quickly.
+
+"I quite understand, Mr. Jeekes," she said. "You needn't say any more ..."
+
+She turned away in a manner that implied dismissal. It was as though she
+had forgotten the secretary's existence. He picked up his _attache_ case
+and walked slowly to the door.
+
+A sharp exclamation broke from his lips.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he cried, "the door ... I shut it a little while
+back ... look, it's ajar!"
+
+The girl who stood at the fire switched on the electric light by the
+mantelpiece.
+
+"Is ... is ... the door defective? Doesn't it shut properly?"
+
+The little secretary forced out the questions in an agitated voice.
+
+The girl walked across the room and shut the door. It closed perfectly,
+a piece of solid, well-fitting oak.
+
+"What does it mean?" said Mr. Jeekes in a whisper. "You understand, I
+should not wish what I told you just now about Mr. Parrish to be
+overheard ..."
+
+They opened the door again. The dusky corridor was empty.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A SHEET OF BLUE PAPER
+
+
+The sight of that crumpled ball of slatey-blue paper brought back to
+Robin's mind with astonishing vividness every detail of the scene in the
+library. Once more he looked into Hartley Parrish's staring, unseeing
+eyes, saw the firelight gleam again on the heavy gold signet ring on the
+dead man's hand, the tag of the dead man's bootlace as it trailed from
+one sprawling foot across the carpet. Once more he felt the dark cloud
+of the mystery envelop him as a mist and with a little sigh he smoothed
+out the crumpled paper.
+
+It was an ordinary quarto sheet of stoutish paper, with a glazed
+surface, of an unusual shade of blue, darker than what the stationers
+call "azure," yet lighter than legal blue. At the top right-hand corner
+was typewritten a date: "Nov. 25." Otherwise the sheet was blank.
+
+The curious thing about it was that a number of rectangular slits had
+been cut in the paper. Robin counted them. There were seven. They were
+of varying sizes, the largest a little over an inch, the smallest not
+more than a quarter of an inch, in length. In depth they measured about
+an eighth of an inch.
+
+Robin stared at the paper uncomprehendingly. He remembered perfectly
+where he had found it on the floor of the library at Harkings, between
+the dead body and the waste-paper basket. The basket, he recalled, stood
+out in the open just clear of the desk on the left-hand side. From the
+position in which it was lying the ball of paper might have been aimed
+for the waste-paper basket and, missing it, have fallen on the carpet.
+
+Robin turned the sheet over. The back was blank. Then he held the paper
+up to the light. Yes, there was a water-mark. Now it was easily
+discernible. "EGMONT FF. QU." he made out.
+
+The train was slowing down. Robin glanced out of the window and saw that
+they were crossing the river in the mirky gloom of a London winter
+Sunday. He balanced the sheet of paper in his hands for a moment. Then
+he folded it carefully into four and stowed it away in his
+cigarette-case. The next moment the train thumped its way into Charing
+Cross.
+
+A taxi deposited him at the Middle Temple Gate. He walked the short
+distance to the set of chambers he occupied. On his front door a piece
+of paper was pinned. By the rambling calligraphy and the phonetic
+English he recognized the hand of his "laundress."
+
+  Dere sir [it ran], mr rite call he want to see u
+  pertikler i tole im as you was in country & give im ur
+  adress hope i dun rite mrs bragg
+
+Robin had scarcely got his key in the door of his "oak" when there was a
+step on the stair. A nice-looking young man with close-cropped fair hair
+appeared round the turn of the staircase.
+
+"Hullo, Robin," he exclaimed impetuously, "I _am_ glad to have caught
+you like this. Your woman gave me your address, so I rang up Harkings at
+once and they told me you had just gone back to town. So I came straight
+here. You remember me, don't you? Bruce Wright ... But perhaps I'm
+butting in. If you'd rather see me some other time...."
+
+"My dear boy," said Robin, motioning him into the flat, "of course I
+remember you. Only I didn't recognize you just for the minute. Shove
+your hat down here in the hall. And as for butting in,"--he threw open
+the door of the living-room,--"why! I think there is no other man in
+England I would so gladly see at this very moment as yourself."
+
+The living-room was a bright and cheery place, tastefully furnished in
+old oak with gay chintz curtains. It looked out on an old-world paved
+court in the centre of which stood a solitary soot-laden plane-tree.
+
+"What's this rot about Parrish having committed suicide?" demanded the
+boy abruptly.
+
+Robin gave him in the briefest terms an outline of the tragedy.
+
+"Poor old H.P., eh?" mused young Wright; "who'd have thought it?"
+
+"But the idea of suicide is preposterous," he broke out suddenly. "I
+knew Parrish probably better than anybody. He would never have done a
+thing like that. It must have been an accident...."
+
+Robin shook his head.
+
+"That possibility is ruled out by the medical evidence," he said, and
+stopped short.
+
+Bruce Wright, who had been pacing up and down the room, halted in front
+of the barrister.
+
+"I tell you that Parrish was not the man to commit suicide. Nothing
+would have even forced him to take his own life. You know, I was working
+with him as his personal secretary every day for more than two years,
+and I am sure!"
+
+He resumed his pacing up and down the room.
+
+"Has it ever occurred to you, Robin," he said presently, "that
+practically nothing is known of H.P.'s antecedents? For instance, do you
+know where he was born?"
+
+"I understand he was a Canadian," replied Robin with a shrewd glance at
+the flushed face of the boy.
+
+"He's lived in Canada," said Wright, "but originally he was a Cockney,
+from the London slums. And I believe I am the only person who knows
+that...."
+
+Robin pushed an armchair at his companion.
+
+"Sit down and tell me about it," he commanded.
+
+The boy dropped into the chair.
+
+"It was after I had been only a few months with him," he began, "shortly
+after I was discharged from the army with that lung wound of mine. We
+were driving back in the car from some munition works near Baling, and
+the chauffeur took a wrong turning near Wormwood Scrubs and got into a
+maze of dirty streets round there...."
+
+"I know," commented Robin, "Notting Dale, they call it...."
+
+"H.P. wasn't noticing much," Wright went on, "as he was dictating
+letters to me,--we used to do a lot of work in the Rolls-Royce in those
+rush days,--but, directly he noticed that the chauffeur was uncertain of
+the road, he shoved his head out of the window and put him right at
+once. I suppose I seemed surprised at his knowing his way about those
+parts, for he laughed at me and said: 'I was born and brought up down
+here, Bruce, in a little greengrocer's shop just off the Latimer Road.'
+I said nothing because I didn't want to interrupt his train of thought.
+He had never talked to me or Jeekes or any of us like that before.
+
+"'By Gad,' he went on, 'how the smell of the place brings back those
+days to me--the smell of decayed fruit, of stale fish, of dirt! Why, it
+seems like yesterday that Victor Marbran and I used to drive round
+uncle's cart with vegetables and coal. What a life to escape from,
+Bruce, my boy! Gad, you can count yourself lucky!'
+
+"He was like a man talking to himself. I asked him how he had broken
+away from it all. At that he laughed, a bitter, hard sort of laugh. 'By
+having the guts to break away from it, boy,' he said. 'It was I who made
+Victor Marbran come away with me. We worked our passages out to the Cape
+and made our way up-country to Matabeleland. That was in the early days
+of Rhodes and Barney Barnato--long before I went to Canada. I made
+Victor's fortune for him and mine as well. But I made more than Victor
+and he never forgave me. He'd do me a bad turn if he could ...'
+
+"Then he broke off short and went on with his dictating ..."
+
+"Did he ever come back to this phase of his life?"
+
+"Only when we got out of the car that morning. He said to me: 'Forget
+what I told you to-day, young fellow. Never rake up a man's past!' And
+he never mentioned the subject again. Of course, I didn't either ..."
+
+Stretched full length in his chair, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, Robin
+remained lost in thought.
+
+"The conversation came back to me to-day," said the boy, "when I read of
+Parrish's death. And I wondered ..."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Whether the secret of his death may not be found somewhere in his
+adventurous past. You see he said that Victor Marbran was an enemy. Then
+there was something else. I never told you--when you took all that
+trouble to get me another job after Parrish had sacked me--the exact
+reason for my dismissal. You never asked me either. That was decent of
+you, Robin ..."
+
+"I liked you, Bruce," said Robin shortly.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you now," he said. "When I joined H.P.'s staff after I
+got out of the Army, I was put under old Jeekes, of course, to learn the
+work. One of the first injunctions he gave me was with regard to Mr.
+Parrish's letters. I suppose you know more or less how secretaries of a
+big business man like Hartley Parrish work. They open all letters, lay
+the important ones before the big man for him to deal with personally,
+make a digest of the others or deal with them direct ..."
+
+Robin nodded.
+
+"Well," the boy resumed, "the first thing old Jeekes told me was that
+letters arriving in a blue envelope and marked 'Personal' were never to
+be opened ..."
+
+"In a blue envelope?" echoed Robin quickly.
+
+"Yes, a particular kind of blue--a sort of slatey-blue--Jeekes showed me
+one as a guide. Well, these letters were to be handed to Mr. Parrish
+unopened."
+
+Robin had stood up.
+
+"That's odd," he said, diving in his pocket.
+
+"I say, hold on a bit," protested the boy, "this is really rather
+important what I am telling you. I'll never finish if you keep on
+interrupting."
+
+"Sorry, Bruce," said Robin, and sat down again.
+
+But he began to play restlessly with his cigarette case which he had
+drawn from his pocket.
+
+"Well, of course," Bruce resumed, "I wasn't much of a private secretary
+really, and one day I forgot all about this injunction. Some days old
+H.P. got as many as three hundred letters. I was alone at Harkings with
+him, I remember, Jeekes was up at Sheffield and the other secretaries
+were away ill or something, and in the rush of dealing with this
+enormous mail I slit one of these blue envelopes open with the rest. I
+discovered what I had done only after I had got all the letters sorted
+out, this one with the rest. So I went straight to old H.P. and told
+him. By Jove!"
+
+"What happened?" said Robin.
+
+"He got into the most paralytic rage," said Bruce. "I have never seen a
+man in such an absolute frenzy of passion. He went right off the hooks,
+just like that! He fairly put the wind up me. For a minute I thought he
+was going to kill me. He snatched the letter out of my hand, called me
+every name under the sun, and finally shouted: 'You're fired, d'ye hear?
+I won't employ men who disobey my orders! Get out of this before I do
+you a mischief! I went straight off. And I never saw him again ..."
+
+Robin Greve looked very serious. But his face displayed no emotion as he
+asked:
+
+"And what was in the letter for him to make such a fuss about?"
+
+The boy shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"That was the extraordinary part of it. The letter was perfectly
+harmless. It was an ordinary business letter from a firm in Holland ..."
+
+"In Holland?" cried Greve. "Did you say in Holland? Tell me the name!
+No, wait, see if I can remember. 'Van' something--'Speck' or 'Spike' ..."
+
+"I remember the name perfectly," answered Bruce, rather puzzled by the
+other's sudden outburst; "it was Van der Spyck and Co. of Rotterdam. We
+had a good deal of correspondence with them ..."
+
+Robin Greve had opened his cigarette-case and drawn from it a creased
+square of blue paper folded twice across. Unfolding it, he held up the
+sheet he had found in the library at Harkings.
+
+"Is that the paper those letters were written on?" he asked.
+
+Bruce took the sheet from him. He held it up to the light.
+
+"Why, yes," came the prompt answer. "I'd know it in a minute. Look, it's
+the same water-mark. 'Egmont.' Where did you get hold of it?"
+
+"Bruce," said Robin gravely, without answering the question, "we're
+getting into deep water, boy!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+SHADOWS
+
+
+Robert Greve stood for an instant in silence by the window of his rooms.
+His fingers hammered out a tattoo on the pane. His eyes were fixed on
+the windows of the chambers across the court. But they did not take in
+the pleasant prospect of the tall, ivy-framed casements in their mellow
+setting of warm red brick. He was trying to fix a mental photograph of a
+letter--typewritten on paper of dark slatey blue--which he had seen on
+Hartley Parrish's desk in the library at Harkings on the previous
+afternoon.
+
+Prompted by Bruce Wright, he could now recall the heading clearly.
+"ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & Co., GENERAL IMPORTERS, ROTTERDAM," stood printed
+before his eyes as plainly as though he still held the typewritten sheet
+in front of him. But the mind plays curious tricks. Robin's brain had
+registered the name; yet it recorded no impression of the contents of
+the letter. Beyond the fact that it dealt in plain commercial fashion
+with some shipments or other, he could recall no particular whatever of
+it.
+
+"But where did you get hold of this sheet of paper?" Bruce Wright's
+voice broke in impatiently behind him. "I'm most frightfully interested
+to know ..."
+
+"Found it on the floor beside Parrish's body," answered Robin briefly.
+"There was a letter, too, on the same paper ..."
+
+"By Gad!" exclaimed the boy eagerly, "have you got that too?"
+
+Robin shook his head.
+
+"It was only your story that made me think of it. I had the letter. But
+I left it where I found it--on Parrish's desk in the library ..."
+
+"But you read it ... you know what was in it?"
+
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"It was a perfectly straightforward business letter ... something about
+steel shipments ... I don't remember any more ..."
+
+"A straightforward business letter," commented the boy. "Like the letter
+I read, eh?..."
+
+"Tell me, Bruce," said Robin, after a moment's silence, "during the time
+you were with Hartley Parrish, I suppose these blue letters came pretty
+often?"
+
+Young Wright wrinkled his brow in thought.
+
+"It's rather difficult to say. You see, there were three of us besides
+old Jeekes, and, of course, these letters might have come without my
+knowledge anything about it. But during the seven months I worked with
+H.P. I suppose about half a dozen of these letters passed through my
+hands. They used to worry H.P., you know, Robin ..."
+
+"Worry him?" exclaimed Robin sharply; "how do you mean?"
+
+"Well," said Bruce, "Parrish was a very easygoing fellow, you know. He
+worked every one--himself included--like the devil, of course. But he
+was hardly ever nervy or grumpy. And so I was a bit surprised to
+find--after I had been with him for a time--that every now and then he
+sort of shrivelled up. He used to look ... well, careworn and ... and
+haggard. And at these times he was pretty short with all of us. It was
+such an extraordinary change from his usual cheery, optimistic self that
+sometimes I suspected him of dope or some horror like that ..."
+
+Robin shook his head. He had a sudden vision of Hartley Parrish, one of
+his long, black Partagas thrust at an aggressive angle from a corner of
+his mouth, virile, battling, strong.
+
+"Oh, no," he said, "not dope ..."
+
+"No, no, I know," the boy went on quickly. "It wasn't dope. It was
+fear ..."
+
+Robin swung round from the window.
+
+"Fear? Fear of what?"
+
+The boy cast a frightened glance over his shoulder rather as if he
+fancied he might be overheard.
+
+"Of those letters," he replied. "I am sure it was that. I watched him
+and ... and I _know_. Every time he got one of those letters in the
+bluish envelopes, these curious fits of gloom came over him. Robin ..."
+
+"What, Bruce?"
+
+"I think he was being blackmailed!"
+
+The barrister nodded thoughtfully.
+
+"Don't you agree?"
+
+The boy awaited his answer eagerly.
+
+"Something very like that," replied the other.
+
+Then suddenly he smashed his fist into the open palm of his other hand.
+
+"But he wouldn't have taken it lying down!" he cried. "Hartley Parrish
+was a fighter, Bruce. Did you ever know a man who could best him? No,
+no, it won't fit! Besides ..."
+
+He broke off and thought for an instant.
+
+"We must get that letter from Harkings," he said presently. "Jeekes will
+have it. We can do nothing until ..."
+
+His voice died away. Bruce, sunk in one of the big leather armchairs,
+was astonished to see him slip quickly away from the window and ensconce
+himself behind one of the chintz curtains.
+
+"Here, Bruce," Robin called softly across the room. "Just come here.
+But take care not to show yourself. Look out, keep behind the curtain
+and here ... peep out through this chink!"
+
+Young Wright peered through a narrow slit between the curtain and the
+window-frame. In the far corner of the courtyard beneath the windows,
+where a short round iron post marked a narrow passage leading to the
+adjoining court, a man was standing. He wore a shabby suit and a blue
+handkerchief knotted about his neck served him as a substitute for the
+more conventional collar and tie. His body was more than half concealed
+by the side of the house along which the passage ran. But his face was
+clearly distinguishable--a peaky, thin face, the upper part in the
+shadow of the peak of a discoloured tweed cap.
+
+"He's been there on and off all the time we've been talking," said
+Robin. "I wasn't sure at first. But now I'm certain. He's watching these
+windows! Look!"
+
+Briskly the watcher's head was withdrawn to emerge again, slowly and
+cautiously, in a little while.
+
+"But who is he? What does he want?" asked Bruce.
+
+"I haven't an idea," retorted Robin Greve. "But I could guess. Tell me,
+Bruce," he went on, stepping back from the window and motioning the boy
+to do the same, "did you notice anybody following you when you came
+here?"
+
+Bruce shook his head.
+
+"I'm pretty sure nobody did. You see, I came in from the Strand, down
+Middle Temple Lane. Once service has started at Temple Church there's
+not a mouse stirring in the Inn till the church is out. I think I should
+have noticed if any one had followed me up to your chambers ..."
+
+Robin set his chin squarely.
+
+"Then he came after me," he said. "Bruce, you'll have to go to Harkings
+and get that letter!"
+
+"By all means," answered the boy. "But, I say, they won't much like me
+butting in, will they?"
+
+"You'll have to say you came down to offer your sympathy, ... volunteer
+your services ... oh, anything. But you _must_ get that letter! Do you
+understand, Bruce? _You must get that letter_--if you have to steal
+it!"
+
+The boy gave a long whistle.
+
+"That's rather a tall order, isn't it?" he said.
+
+Robin nodded. His face was very grave.
+
+"Yes," he said presently, "I suppose it is. But there is something ...
+something horrible behind this case, Bruce, something dark and ... and
+mysterious. And I mean to get to the bottom of it. With your help. Or
+alone!"
+
+Bruce put his hand impulsively on the other's arm.
+
+"You can count on me, you know," he said. "But don't you think ..."
+
+He broke off shyly.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Don't you think you'd better tell me what you know. And what you
+suspect!"
+
+Robin hesitated.
+
+"Yes," he said, "that's fair. I suppose I ought. But there's not much to
+tell, Bruce. Just before Hartley Parrish was found dead, I asked Miss
+Trevert to marry me. I was too late. She was already engaged to Hartley
+Parrish. I was horrified ... I know some things about Parrish ... we had
+words and I went off. Five minutes later Miss Trevert went to fetch
+Parrish in to tea and heard a shot behind the locked door of the
+library. Horace Trevert got in through the window and found Parrish
+dead. Every one down at Harkings believes that I went in and threatened
+Parrish so that he committed suicide ..."
+
+"Whom do you mean by every one?"
+
+Robin laughed drily. "Mary Trevert, her mother, Horace Trevert ..."
+
+"The police, too?"
+
+"Certainly. The police more than anybody!"
+
+"By Jove!" commented the boy.
+
+"You ask me what I suspect," Robin continued. "I admit I have no
+positive proof. But I suspect that Hartley Parrish did not die by his
+own hand!"
+
+Bruce Wright looked up with a startled expression on his face.
+
+"You mean that he was murdered?"
+
+"I do!"
+
+"But how? Why?"
+
+Then Robin told him of the experiment in the library, of the open window
+and of the bullet mark he had discovered in the rosery.
+
+"What I want to know," he said, "and what I am determined to find out
+beyond any possible doubt, is whether the bullet found in Hartley
+Parrish's body was fired from _his_ pistol. But before we reach that
+point we have to explain how it happened that only one shot was heard
+and how a bullet which _apparently_ came from Parrish's pistol was found
+in his body ..."
+
+"If Mr. Parrish was murdered, the murderer might have turned the gun
+round in Parrish's hand and forced him to shoot himself ..."
+
+"Hardly," said Robin. "Remember, Mary Trevert was at the door when the
+shot was fired. Your theory presupposes the employment of force, in
+other words, a struggle. Miss Trevert heard no scuffling. No, I've
+thought of that.. it won't do ..."
+
+"Have you any suspicion of who the murderer might be?"
+
+Robin shook his head decidedly.
+
+"Not a shadow of an idea," he affirmed positively. "But I have a notion
+that we shall find a clue in this letter which, like a blithering fool,
+I left on Parrish's desk. It's the first glimmer of hope I've seen yet ..."
+
+Bruce Wright squared his shoulders and threw his head back.
+
+"I'll get it for you," he said.
+
+"Good boy," said Robin. "But, Bruce," he went on, "you'll have to go
+carefully. My name is mud in that house. You mustn't say you come from
+me. And if you ask boldly for the letter, they won't give it to you.
+Jeekes might, if he's there and you approach him cautiously. But, for
+Heaven's sake, don't try any diplomacy on Manderton ... that's the
+Scotland Yard man. He's as wary as a fox and sharp as needles."
+
+Bruce Wright buttoned up his coat with an air of finality.
+
+"Leave it to me," he said, "I know Harkings like my pocket. Besides I've
+got a friend there ..."
+
+"Who might that be?" queried the barrister.
+
+"Bude," answered the boy and laid a finger on his lips.
+
+"But," he pursued, jerking his head in the direction of the window,
+"what are we going to do about him out there?"
+
+Robin laughed.
+
+"Him?" he said. "Oh, I'm going to take him out for an airing!"
+
+Robin stepped out into the hall. He returned wearing his hat and
+overcoat. In his hand were two yale keys strung on a wisp of pink tape.
+
+"Listen, Bruce," he said. "Give me ten minutes' start to get rid of this
+jackal. Then clear out. There's a train to Stevenish at 3.23. If you get
+on the Underground at the Temple you ought to be able to make it easily.
+Here are the keys of the chambers. I can put you up here to-night if you
+like. I'll expect you when I see you ... with that letter. Savvy?"
+
+The boy stood up.
+
+"You'll have that letter to-night," he answered. "But in the
+meantime,"--he waved the blue sheet with its mysterious slots at
+Robin,--"what do you make of this?"
+
+Robin took the sheet of paper from him and replaced it in his
+cigarette-case.
+
+"Perhaps, when we have the letter," he replied, "I shall be able to
+answer that question!"
+
+Then he lit a cigarette, gave the boy his hand, and a minute later Bruce
+Wright, watching through the chink of the curtain from the window of
+Robin Greve's chambers, saw a lanky form shuffle across the court and
+follow Robin round the angle of the house.
+
+Robin strode quickly through the maze of narrow passages and tranquil,
+echoing courts into the Sabbath stillness of the Strand. An occasional
+halt at a shop-window was sufficient to assure him that the watcher of
+the Temple was still on his heels. The man, he was interested to see,
+played his part very unobtrusively, shambling along in nonchalant
+fashion, mostly hugging the sides of the houses, ready to dart out of
+sight into a doorway or down a side turning, should he by any mischance
+arrive too close on the heels of his quarry.
+
+As he walked along, Robin turned over in his mind the best means for
+getting rid of his shadow. Should he dive into a Tube station and plunge
+headlong down the steps? He rejected this idea as calculated to let the
+tracker know that his presence was suspected. Then he reviewed in his
+mind the various establishments he knew of in London with double
+entrances, thinking that he might slip in by the one entrance and
+emerge by the other.
+
+In Pall Mall he came upon Tony Grandell, whom he had last seen playing
+bridge in the company dugout on the Flesquieres Ridge. Then he had been
+in "battle order," camouflaged as a private soldier, as officers were
+ordered to go over the top in the latter phases of the war. Now he was
+resplendent in what the invitation cards call "Morning Dress" crowned by
+what must certainly have been the most relucent top-hat in London.
+
+"Hullo, hullo, hullo!" cried Tony, on catching sight of him; "stand to
+your kits and so forth! And how is my merry company commander? Robin,
+dear, come and relieve the medieval gloom of lunch with my aunt at
+Mart's!"
+
+He linked his arm affectionately in Robin's.
+
+Mart's! Robin's brain snatched at the word. Mart's! most respectable of
+"family hotels," wedged in between two quiet streets off Piccadilly with
+an entrance from both. If ever a man wanted to dodge a sleuth,
+especially a grimy tatterdemalion like the one sidling up Pall Mall
+behind them ...
+
+"Tony, old son," said Robin, "I won't lunch with you even to set the
+board in a roar at your aunt's luncheon-party. But I'll walk up to
+Mart's with you, for I'm going there myself ..."
+
+They entered Mart's together and parted in the vestibule, where Tony
+gravely informed his "dear old scream" that he must fly to his
+"avuncular luncheon." Robin walked quickly through the hotel and left by
+the other entrance. The street was almost deserted. Of the man with the
+dingy neckerchief there was no sign. Robin hurried into Piccadilly and
+hopped on a 'bus which put him down at his club facing the Green Park.
+
+He had a late lunch there and afterwards took a taxi back to the Temple.
+The daylight was failing as he crossed the courtyard in front of his
+chambers. In the centre the smoke-blackened plane-tree throned it in
+unchallenged solitude. But, as Robin's footsteps echoed across the
+flags, something more substantial than a shadow seemed to melt into the
+gathering dusk in the corner where the narrow passage ran.
+
+Robin stopped to listen at the entrance to his chambers. As he stood
+there he heard a heavy tread on the stone steps within. He turned to
+face a solidly built swarthy-looking man who emerged from the building.
+
+He favoured Robin with a leisurely, searching stare, then strode heavily
+across the courtyard to the little passage where he disappeared from
+view.
+
+Robin looked after him. The man was a stranger: the occupants of the
+other chambers were all known to him. With a thoughtful expression on
+his face Robin entered the house and mounted to his rooms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE INTRUDER
+
+
+"D----!" exclaimed Bruce Wright.
+
+He stood in the great porch at Harkings, his finger on the electric
+bell. No sound came in response to the pressure, nor any one to open the
+door. Thus he had stood for fully ten minutes listening in vain for any
+sound within the house. All was still as death. He began to think that
+the bell was out of order. He had forgotten Hartley Parrish's insistence
+on quiet. All bells at Harkings rang, discreetly muted, in the servants'
+hall.
+
+He stepped out of the porch on to the drive. The weather had improved
+and, under a freshening wind, the country was drying up. As he reached
+the hard gravel, he heard footsteps, Bude appeared, his collar turned
+up, his swallow-tails floating in the wind.
+
+"Now, be off with you!" he cried as soon as he caught sight of the trim
+figure in the grey overcoat; "how many more of ye have I to tell there's
+nothing for you to get here! Go on, get out before I put the dog on
+you!"
+
+He waved an imperious hand at Bruce.
+
+"Hullo, Bude," said the boy, "you've grown very inhospitable all of a
+sudden!"
+
+"God bless my soul if it isn't young Mr. Wright!" exclaimed the butler.
+"And I thought it was another of those dratted reporters. It's been
+ring, ring, ring the whole blessed morning, sir, you can believe me, as
+if they owned the place, wanting to interview me and Mr. Jeekes and Miss
+Trevert and the Lord knows who else. Lot of interfering busybodies, _I_
+call 'em! I'd shut up all noospapers by law if I had my way ..."
+
+"Is Mr. Jeekes here, Bude?" asked Bruce.
+
+"He's gone off to London in the car, sir ... But won't you come in, Mr.
+Wright? If you wouldn't mind coming in by the side door. I have to keep
+the front door closed to shut them scribbling fellows out. One of them
+had the face to ask me to let him into the library to take a
+photograph ..."
+
+He led the way round the side of the house to the glass door in the
+library corridor.
+
+"This is a sad business, Bude!" said Bruce.
+
+"Ah, indeed, it is, sir," he sighed. "He had his faults had Mr. Parrish,
+as well _you_ know, Mr. Wright. But he was an open-handed gentleman,
+that I will say, and we'll all miss him at Harkings ..."
+
+They were now in the corridor. Bude jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
+
+"It was in there they found him," he said in a low voice, "with a hole
+plumb over the heart."
+
+His voice sank to a whisper. "There's blood on the carpet!" he added
+impressively.
+
+"I should like just to take a peep at the room, Bude," ventured the boy,
+casting a sidelong glance at the butler.
+
+"Can't be done, sir," said Bude, shaking his head; "orders of
+Detective-Inspector Manderton. The police is very strict, Mr. Wright,
+sir!"
+
+"There seems to be no one around just now, Bude," the young man
+wheedled. "There can't be any harm in my just going in for a second?..."
+
+"Go in you should, Mr. Wright, sir," said the butler genially, "if I had
+my way. But the door's locked. And, what's more, the police have the
+key."
+
+"Is the detective anywhere about?" asked Bruce.
+
+"No, sir," answered Bude. "He's gone off to town, too! And he don't
+expect to be back before the inquest. That's for Toosday!"
+
+"But isn't there another key anywhere?" persisted the boy.
+
+"No, sir," said Bude positively, "there isn't but the one. And that's
+in Mr. Manderton's vest pocket!"
+
+Young Wright wrinkled his brow in perplexity. He was very young, but he
+had a fine strain of perseverance in him. He was not nearly at the end
+of his resources, he told himself.
+
+"Well, then," he said suddenly, "I'm going outside to have a look
+through the window. I remember you can see into the library from the
+path round the house!"
+
+He darted out, the butler, protesting, lumbering along behind him.
+
+"Mr. Wright," he panted as he ran, "you didn't reelly ought ... If any
+one should come ..."
+
+But Bruce Wright was already at the window. The butler found him leaning
+on the sill, peering with an air of frightened curiosity into the empty
+room.
+
+"The glazier from Stevenish"--Bude's voice breathed the words hoarsely
+in Wright's ear--"is coming to-morrow morning to put the window in. He
+wouldn't come to-day, him being a chapel-goer and religious. It was
+there we found poor Mr. Parrish--d'you see, sir, just between the window
+and the desk!"
+
+But Bruce Wright did not heed him. His eyes were fixed on the big
+writing-desk, on the line of black japanned letter-trays set out in
+orderly array. Outside, the short winter afternoon was drawing in fast,
+and the light was failing. Dusky shadows within the library made it
+difficult to distinguish objects clearly.
+
+A voice close at hand cried out sharply:
+
+"Mr. Bude! Mr. Bu-u-ude!"
+
+"They're calling me!" whispered the butler in his ear with a tug at his
+sleeve; "come away, sir!"
+
+But Bruce shook him off. He heard the man's heavy tread on the gravel,
+then a door slam.
+
+How dark the room was growing, to be sure! Strain his eyes as he might,
+he could not get a clear view of the contents of the letter-trays on the
+desk. But their high backs hid their contents from his eyes. Even when
+he hoisted himself on to the window-sill he could not get a better view.
+
+He dropped back on to the gravel path and listened. The wind soughed
+sadly in the bare tree-tops, somewhere in the distance a dog barked
+hoarsely, insistently; otherwise not a sound was to be heard. He cast a
+cautious glance round the side of the house. The glass door was shut;
+the lamp in the corridor had not been lit.
+
+Hoisting himself up to the window-sill again, he crooked one knee on the
+rough edge and thrusting one arm through the broken pane of glass,
+unbolted the window. Then, steadying himself with one hand, with the
+other he very gently pushed up the window, threw his legs across the
+sill, and dropped into the library. Very deliberately, he turned and
+pushed the window softly down behind him.
+
+Some unconscious prompting, perhaps an unfamiliar surface beneath his
+feet, made him look down. Where his feet rested on the mole-grey carpet
+a wide dark patch stood out from the delicate shade of the rug. For a
+moment a spasm of physical nausea caught him.
+
+"How beastly!" he whispered to himself and took a step towards the desk.
+
+Hartley Parrish's desk was arranged just as he always remembered it to
+have been. All the letter-trays save one were empty. In that was a
+little pile of papers held down by a massive marble paper-weight.
+Quickly he stepped round the desk.
+
+He had put out his hand to lift the weight when there was a gentle
+rattle at the door.
+
+Bruce Wright wheeled instantly round, back to the desk, to face the
+door, which, in the gathering dusk, was now but a squarer patch of
+darkness among the shadows at the far end of the library. He stood
+absolutely still, rooted to the spot, his heart thumping so fast that,
+in that silent room, he could hear the rapid beats.
+
+Some one was unlocking the library door. As realization came to the
+boy, he tiptoed rapidly round the desk, the sound of his feet muffled by
+the heavy pile carpet, and reached the window. There was a click as the
+lock of the door was shot back. Without further hesitation Bruce stepped
+behind the long curtains which fell from the top of the window to the
+floor.
+
+The curtains, of some heavy grey material, were quite opaque. Bruce
+realized, with a sinking heart, that he must depend on his ears to
+discover the identity of this mysterious interloper. He dared not look
+out from his hiding-place--at least not until he could be sure that the
+newcomer had his back to the window. He remained, rigid and vigilant,
+straining his ears to catch the slightest sound, scarcely daring to
+breathe.
+
+He heard the door open, heard it softly close again. Then ... silence.
+Not another sound. The boy remembered the heavy pile carpet and cursed
+his luck. He would have to risk a peep round the curtains. But not yet!
+He must wait ...
+
+A very slight rustling, a faint prolonged rustling, caught his ear. It
+came nearer, then stopped. There was a little rattling noise from
+somewhere close at hand, a small clinking sound.
+
+Then silence fell again.
+
+The wind whooshed sadly round the house, the window clattered dismally
+in its frame, the curtains tugged fretfully before the cold breeze which
+blew in at the broken pane. But the silence in the room was absolute.
+
+It began to oppress the boy. It frightened him. He felt an
+uncontrollable desire to look out into the room and establish the
+identity of the mysterious entrant. He glided his hand towards the
+window-frame in the hope that he might find a chink between curtain and
+wall through which he might risk a peep into the room. But the curtain
+was fastened to the wall.
+
+The room was almost entirely dark now. Only behind him was a patch of
+grey light where the lowering evening sky was framed in the window. He
+began to draw the curtain very slowly towards him, at the same time
+leaning to the right. Very cautiously he applied one eye to the edge of
+the curtain.
+
+As he did so a bright light struck him full in the face. It streamed
+full from a lamp on the desk and almost blinded him. It was a
+reading-lamp and the bulb had been turned up so as to throw a beam on
+the curtain behind which the boy was sheltering.
+
+Behind the desk, straining back in terror, stood a slim, girlish figure.
+The details of her dress were lost in the gathering shadows, but her
+face stood out in the gloom, a pale oval. Bruce could see the dark line
+made by the lashes on her cheek.
+
+At the sight of her, he stepped boldly forth from his hiding-place,
+shielding his eyes from the light with his hand.
+
+"It's Bruce Wright, Miss Trevert," he said, "don't you remember me?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+A FRESH CLUE
+
+
+"Oh!" cried the girl, "you frightened me! You frightened me! What do you
+want here ... in this horrible room?"
+
+She was trembling. One slim hand plucked nervously at her dress. Her
+breath came and went quickly.
+
+"I saw the curtain move. I thought it was the wind at first. But then I
+saw the outline of your fingers. And I imagined it was he ... come
+back ..."
+
+"Miss Trevert," said the boy abashed, "I must have frightened you
+terribly. I had no idea it was you!"
+
+"But why are you hiding here? How did you get in? What do you want in
+this house?"
+
+She spoke quickly, nervously. Some papers she held in her hand shook
+with her emotion. Bruce Wright stepped to the desk and turned the bulb
+of the reading-lamp down into its normal position.
+
+"I must apologize most sincerely for the fright I gave you," he said.
+"But, believe me, Miss Trevert, I had no idea that anybody could gain
+access to this room. I climbed in through the window. Bude told me that
+the police had taken away the key ..."
+
+The girl made an impatient gesture.
+
+"But why have you come here?" she said. "What do you want?"
+
+The boy measured her with a narrow glance. He was young, but he was
+shrewd. He saw her frank eyes, her candid, open mien, and he took a
+rapid decision.
+
+"I think I have come," he answered slowly, "for the same purpose as
+yourself!"
+
+And he looked at the papers in her hand.
+
+"I used to be Mr. Parrish's secretary, you know," he said.
+
+The girl sighed--a little fluttering sigh--and looked earnestly at him.
+
+"I remember," she said. "Hartley liked you. He was sorry that he sent
+you away. He often spoke of you to me. But why have you come back? What
+do you mean by saying you have come for the same purpose as myself?"
+
+Bruce Wright looked at the array of letter-trays. The marble
+paper-weight had been displaced. The tray in which it had lain was
+empty. He looked at the sheaf of papers in the girl's hand.
+
+"I wanted to see," he replied, "whether there was anything here ... on
+his desk ... which would explain the mystery of his death ..."
+
+The girl spread out the papers in her hand on the big blotter.
+
+She laid the papers out in a row and leant forward, her white arms
+resting on the desk. From the other side of the desk the boy leant
+eagerly forward and scanned the line of papers.
+
+At the first glimpse his face fell. The girl, eyeing him closely, marked
+the change which came over his features.
+
+There were seven papers of various kinds, both printed and written, and
+they were all on white paper.
+
+The boy shook his head and swept the papers together into a heap.
+
+"It's not there?" queried the girl eagerly.
+
+"No!" said Bruce absent-mindedly, glancing round the desk.
+
+"What isn't?" flashed back the girl.
+
+Bruce Wright felt his face redden with vexation. What sort of a
+confidential emissary was he to fall into a simple trap like this?
+
+The girl smiled rather wanly.
+
+"Now I know what you meant by saying you had come for the same purpose
+as myself," she said. "I suppose we both thought we might find
+something, a letter, perhaps, which would explain why Mr. Parrish did
+this dreadful thing, something to relieve this awful uncertainty about ...
+about his motive. Well, I've searched the desk ... and there's
+nothing! Nothing but just these prospectuses and receipts which were in
+the letter-tray here. They must have come by the post yesterday morning.
+And there's nothing of any importance in the drawers ... only household
+receipts and the wages book and a few odd things like that! You can see
+for yourself ..."
+
+The lower part of the desk consisted of three drawers flanked on either
+side by cupboards. Mary Trevert pulled out the drawers and opened the
+cupboards. Two of the drawers were entirely empty and one of the
+cupboards contained nothing but a stack of cigar boxes. One drawer held
+various papers appertaining to the house. There was no sign of any
+letter written on the slatey-blue paper.
+
+The boy looked very hard at Mary.
+
+"You say there was nothing in the letter-tray but these papers here?" he
+asked.
+
+"Nothing but these," replied the girl.
+
+"You didn't notice any official-looking letter on bluish paper?" he
+ventured to ask.
+
+"No," answered the girl. "I found nothing but these."
+
+The boy thought for a moment.
+
+"Do you know," he asked, "whether the police or anybody have been
+through the desk?"
+
+"I don't know at all," said Mary, smoothing back a lock of hair from her
+temple; "I daresay Mr. Jeekes had a look round, as he had a meeting with
+Mr. Parrish's lawyer in town this afternoon!"
+
+She had lost all trace of her fright and was now quite calm and
+collected.
+
+"Do you know for certain whether Mr. Jeekes was in here?" asked Bruce.
+
+"Oh, yes. The first thing he did on arriving last night was to go to the
+library."
+
+"I suppose Jeekes is coming back here to-night?"
+
+No, she told him. Mr. Jeekes did not expect to return to Harkings until
+the inquest on Tuesday.
+
+Bruce Wright picked up his hat.
+
+"I must apologize again, Miss Trevert," he said, "for making such an
+unconventional entrance and giving you such a fright. But I felt I could
+not rest until I had investigated matters for myself. I would have
+presented myself in the ordinary way, but, as I told you, Bude told me
+the police had locked up the room and taken away the key ..."
+
+Mary Trevert smiled forgivingly.
+
+"So they did," she said. "But Jay--Mr. Parrish's man, you know--had
+another key. He brought it to me."
+
+She looked at Bruce with a whimsical little smile.
+
+"You must have been very uncomfortable behind those curtains," she said.
+"I believe you were just as frightened as I was."
+
+She walked round the desk to the window.
+
+"It was a good hiding-place," she remarked, "but not much good as an
+observation post. Why! you could see nothing of the room. The curtains
+are much too thick!"
+
+"Not a thing," Bruce agreed rather ruefully. "I thought you were the
+detective!"
+
+He held out his hand to take his leave with a smile. He was a
+charming-looking boy with a remarkably serene expression which went well
+with close-cropped golden hair.
+
+Mary Trevert did not take his hand for an instant. Looking down at the
+point of her small black suede shoe she said shyly:
+
+"Mr. Wright, you are a friend of Mr. Greve, aren't you?"
+
+"Rather!" was the enthusiastic answer.
+
+"Do you see him often?"
+
+The boy's eyes narrowed suddenly. Was this a cross-examination?
+
+"Oh, yes," he replied, "every now and then!"
+
+Mary Trevert raised her eyes to his.
+
+"Will you do something for me?" she said. "Tell Mr. Greve not to trust
+Manderton. He will know whom I mean. Tell him to be on his guard against
+that man. Say he means mischief. Tell him, above all things, to be
+careful. Make him go away ... go abroad until this thing has blown
+over ..."
+
+She spoke with intense earnestness, her dark eyes fixed on Bruce
+Wright's face.
+
+"But promise me you won't say this comes from me! Do you understand?
+There are reasons, very strong reasons, for this. Will you promise?"
+
+"Of course!"
+
+She took Bruce's outstretched hand.
+
+"I promise," he said.
+
+"You mustn't go without tea," said the girl. "Besides,"--she glanced at
+a little platinum watch on her wrist,--"there's not another train until
+six. There is no need for you to start yet. I don't like being left
+alone. Mother has one of her headaches, and Horace and Dr. Romain have
+gone to Stevenish. Come up to my sitting-room!"
+
+She led the way out of the library, locking the door behind them, and
+together they went up to the Chinese boudoir where tea was laid on a low
+table before a bright fire. In the dainty room with its bright colours
+they seemed far removed from the tragedy which had darkened Harkings.
+
+They had finished tea when a tap came at the door. Bude appeared. He
+cast a reproachful look at Bruce.
+
+"Jay would be glad to have a word with you, Miss," he said.
+
+The girl excused herself and left the room. She was absent for about ten
+minutes. When she returned, she had a little furrow of perplexity
+between her brows. She walked over to the open fireplace and stood
+silent for an instant, her foot tapping the hearth-rug.
+
+"Mr. Wright," she said presently, "I'm going to tell you something that
+Jay has just told me. I want your advice ..."
+
+The boy looked at her interrogatively. But he did not speak.
+
+"I think this is rather important," the girl went on, "but I don't quite
+understand in what way it is. Jay tells me that Mr. Parrish had on his
+pistol a sort of steel fitting attached to the end ... you know, the
+part you shoot out of. Mr. Parrish used to keep his automatic in a
+drawer in his dressing-room, and Jay has often seen it there with this
+attachment fitted on. Well, when Mr. Parrish was discovered in the
+library yesterday, this thing was no longer on the pistol. And Jay says
+it's not to be found!..."
+
+"That's rather strange!" commented Bruce. "But what was this steel
+contraption for, do you know? Was it a patent sight or something?"
+
+"Jay doesn't know," answered the girl.
+
+"Would you mind if I spoke to Jay myself?" asked the young man.
+
+In reply the girl touched the bell beside the fireplace. Bude answered
+the summons and was despatched to find Jay. He appeared in due course, a
+tall, dark, sleek young man wearing a swallow-tail coat and striped
+trousers.
+
+"How are you, Jay?" said Bruce affably.
+
+"Very well, thank you, sir," replied the valet.
+
+"Miss Trevert was telling me about this appliance which you say Mr.
+Parrish had on his automatic. Could you describe it to me?"
+
+"Well, sir," answered the man rather haltingly, "it was a little sort of
+cup made of steel or gun-metal fitting closely over the barrel ..."
+
+"And you don't know what it was for?"
+
+"No, sir!"
+
+"Was it a sight, do you think?"
+
+"I can't say, I'm sure, sir!"
+
+"You know what a sight looks like, I suppose. Was there a bead on it or
+anything like it?"
+
+"I can't say, I'm sure, sir. I never gave any particular heed to it. I
+used to see the automatic lying in the drawer of the wardrobe in Mr.
+Parrish's room in a wash-leather case. I noticed this steel appliance,
+sir, because the case wouldn't shut over the pistol with it on and the
+butt used to stick out."
+
+"When did you last notice Mr. Parrish's automatic?"
+
+"It would be Thursday or Friday, sir. I went to that drawer to get Mr.
+Parrish an old stock to go riding in as some new ones he had bought were
+stiff and hurt him."
+
+"And this steel cup was on the pistol then?"
+
+"Oh, yes, sir!"
+
+"And you say it was not on the pistol when Mr. Parrish's body was
+found?"
+
+"No, sir!"
+
+"Are you sure of this?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I was one of the first in the room, and I saw the pistol in
+Mr. Parrish's hand, and there was no sign of the cup, sir. So I've had a
+good look among his things and I can't find it anywhere!"
+
+Bruce Wright pondered a minute.
+
+"Try and think, Jay," he said, "if you can't remember anything more
+about this steel cup, as you call it. Where did Mr. Parrish buy it?"
+
+"Can't say, I'm sure, sir. He had it before ever I took service with
+him!"
+
+Jay put his hand to his forehead for an instant.
+
+"Now I come to think of it," he said, "there was the name of the shop or
+maker on it, stamped on the steel. 'Maxim,' that was the name, now I put
+my mind back, with a number ..."
+
+"Maxim?" echoed Bruce Wright. "Did you say Maxim?"
+
+"Yes, sir! That was the name!" replied the valet impassively.
+
+"By Jove!" said the boy half to himself. Then he said aloud to Jay:
+
+"Did you tell the police about this?"
+
+Jay looked somewhat uncomfortable.
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Jay looked at Mary Trevert.
+
+"Well, sir, I thought perhaps I'd better tell Miss Trevert first. Bude
+thought so, too. That there Manderton has made so much unpleasantness in
+the house with his prying ways that I said to myself, sir ..."
+
+Bruce Wright looked at Mary.
+
+"Would you mind if I asked Jay not to say anything about this to anybody
+just for the present?" he asked.
+
+"You hear what Mr. Wright says, Jay," said Mary. "I don't want you to
+say anything about this matter just yet. Do you understand?"
+
+"Yes, Miss. Will that be all, Miss?"
+
+"Yes, thank you, Jay!"
+
+"Thanks very much, Jay," said the boy. "This may be important. Mum's the
+word, though!"
+
+"I _quite_ understand, sir," answered the valet and left the room.
+
+Hardly had the door closed on him than the girl turned eagerly to Bruce.
+
+"It _is_ important?" she asked.
+
+"It may be," was the guarded reply.
+
+"Don't leave me in the dark like this," the girl pleaded. "This horrible
+affair goes on growing and growing, and at every step it seems more
+bewildering ... more ghastly. Tell me where it is leading, Mr. Wright! I
+can't stand the suspense much more!"
+
+Her voice broke, and she turned her face away.
+
+"You must be brave, Miss Trevert," said the boy, putting his hand on her
+shoulder. "Don't ask me to tell you more now. Your friends are working
+to get at the truth ..."
+
+"The truth!" cried the girl. "God knows where the truth will lead us!"
+
+Bruce Wright hesitated a moment.
+
+"I don't think you have any need to fear the truth!" he said presently.
+
+The girl took her handkerchief from her face and looked at him with
+brimming eyes.
+
+"You know more than you let me think you did," she said brokenly. "But
+you are a friend of mine, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes," said Bruce, and added boldly:
+
+"And of his too!"
+
+She did not speak again, but gave him her hand. He clasped it and went
+out hurriedly to catch his train back to London.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE SILENT SHOT
+
+
+That faithful servitor of Fleet Street, the Law Courts clock, had just
+finished striking seven. It boomed out the hour, stroke by stroke,
+solemnly, inexorably, like a grim old judge summing up and driving home,
+point by point, an irrefutable charge. The heavy strokes broke in upon
+the fitful doze into which Robin Greve, stretched out in an armchair in
+his living-room, had dropped.
+
+He roused up with a start. There was the click of a key in the lock of
+his front door. Bruce Wright burst into the room.
+
+The boy shut the door quickly and locked it. He was rather pale and
+seemed perturbed. On seeing Robin he jerked his head in the direction of
+the courtyard.
+
+"I suppose you know they're still outside?" he said.
+
+Robin nodded nonchalantly.
+
+"There are three of them now," the boy went on. "Robin, I don't like it.
+Something's going to happen. You'll want to mind yourself ... if it's
+not too late already!"
+
+He stepped across to the window and bending down, peered cautiously
+round the curtain.
+
+Robin Greve laughed.
+
+"Bah!" he said, "they can't touch me!"
+
+"You're wrong," Bruce retorted without changing his position. "They can
+and they will. Don't think Manderton is a fool, Robin. He means
+mischief ..."
+
+Robin raised his eyebrows.
+
+"Does he?" he said. "Now I wonder who told you that ..."
+
+"Friends of yours at Harkings asked me to warn you ..." began Bruce
+awkwardly.
+
+"My friends are scarcely in the majority there," retorted Robin. "Whom
+do you mean exactly?"
+
+But the boy ignored the question.
+
+"Three men watching the house!" he exclaimed; "don't you think that
+_this_ looks as though Manderton meant business?"
+
+He returned to his post of observation at the curtain.
+
+Robin laughed cynically.
+
+"Manderton doesn't worry me any," he said cheerfully. "The man's the
+victim of an _idee fixe_. He believes Parrish killed himself just as
+firmly as he believes that I frightened or bullied Parrish into doing
+it ..."
+
+"Don't be too sure about that, Robin," said the boy, dropping the
+curtain and coming back to Robin's chair. "He may want you to think
+that. But how can we tell how much he knows?"
+
+Robin flicked the ash off his cigarette disdainfully.
+
+"These promoted policemen make me tired," he said.
+
+Bruce Wright shook his head quickly with a little gesture of
+exasperation.
+
+"You don't understand," he said. "There's fresh evidence ..."
+
+Robin Greve looked up with real interest in his eyes. His bantering
+manner had vanished.
+
+"You've got that letter?" he asked eagerly.
+
+Bruce shook his head.
+
+"No, not that," he said. Then leaning forward he added in a low voice:
+
+"Have you ever heard of the Maxim silencer?"
+
+"I believe I have, vaguely," replied Robin. "Isn't it something to do
+with a motor engine?"
+
+"No," said Bruce. "It's an extraordinary invention which absolutely
+suppresses the noise of the discharge of a gun."
+
+Robin shot a quick glance at the speaker.
+
+"Go on," he said.
+
+"It's a marvelous thing, really," the boy continued, warming to his
+theme. "A man at Havre had one when I was at the base there, during the
+war. It's a little cup-shaped steel fitting that goes over the barrel.
+You can fire a rifle fitted with one of these silencers in a small room
+and it makes no more noise than a fairly loud sneeze ..."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+Robin was listening intently now.
+
+"Parrish had a Maxim silencer," Bruce went on impressively.
+
+"_Parrish_ had?"
+
+"It was fitted on his automatic pistol, the one he had in his hand when
+they found him ..."
+
+"There was no attachment of any kind on the gun Parrish was holding when
+he was discovered yesterday afternoon," declared Robin positively; "I
+can vouch for that. I was there almost immediately after they found him.
+And if there had been anything of the kind Horace Trevert would
+certainly have mentioned it ..."
+
+"I know. Jay, who came in soon after you, was surprised to see that the
+silencer was not on the pistol. And he made a point of looking for it ..."
+
+"But how do you know that Parrish had it on the pistol?..."
+
+"Well, we don't know for certain. But we do know that it was permanently
+fitted to his automatic. Jay has often seen it. And if Parrish did
+remove it, he didn't leave it lying around any where. Jay has looked
+all through his things without finding it ..."
+
+"When did Jay see it last?"
+
+"On Thursday!"
+
+"But are you sure that this is the same pistol as the one which Jay has
+been in the habit of seeing?"
+
+"Jay is absolutely sure. He says that Parrish only had the one automatic
+which he always kept in the same drawer in his dressing-room ..."
+
+Robin was silent for a moment. Very deliberately he filled his pipe, lit
+it, and drew until it burned comfortably. Then he said slowly:
+
+"This means that Hartley Parrish was murdered, Bruce, old man. All
+through I have been puzzling my mind to reconcile the unquestionable
+circumstance that two bullets were fired--I told you of the bullet mark
+I found on the upright in the rosery--with the undoubted fact that only
+one report was heard. We can therefore presume, either that Hartley
+Parrish first fired one shot from his pistol with the silencer fitted
+and then removed the silencer and fired another shot without it, thereby
+killing himself, or that the second shot was fired by the person whose
+interest it was to get rid of the silencer. There is no possible or
+plausible reason why Parrish should have fired first one shot with the
+silencer and then one without. Therefore, I find myself irresistibly
+compelled to the conclusion that the shot heard by Mary Trevert was
+fired by the person who killed Parrish. Do I make myself clear?"
+
+"Perfectly," answered Bruce.
+
+"Now, then," the barrister proceeded, thoughtfully puffing at his pipe,
+"one weak point about my deductions is that they all hang on the
+question as to whether, at the time of the tragedy, Parrish actually had
+the silencer on his pistol or not. That is really the acid test of
+Manderton's suicide theory. You said, I think, that a rifle fired with
+the silencer attachment makes no more noise than the sound of a loud
+sneeze!"
+
+"That's right," agreed Bruce; "a sort of harsh, spluttering noise. Not
+so loud either, Robin. Ph ... t-t-t! Like that!"
+
+"Loud enough to be heard through a door, would you say?"
+
+"Oh, I think so!"
+
+Robin thought intently for a moment.
+
+"Then Mary is the only one who can put us right on that point. Assuming
+that two shots were fired--and that bullet mark in the rosery is, I
+think, conclusive on that head--and knowing that she heard the loud
+report of the one, presumably, if Parrish had the silencer on his
+automatic, Mary must have heard the _muffled_ report of the other. What
+it comes to is this, Mary heard the shot fired that killed Parrish. Did
+she hear the shot he fired at his murderer?"
+
+"By Gad!" exclaimed Bruce Wright impressively, "I believe you've got it,
+Robin! Parrish fired at somebody at the window--a silent shot--and the
+other fellow fired back the shot that Mary Trevert heard, the shot that
+killed Parrish. Isn't that the way you figure it out?"
+
+"Not so fast, young man," remarked Robin. "Let's first find out whether
+Mary actually heard the muffled shot and, if so, _when ... before_ or
+_after_ the loud report."
+
+He glanced across at the window and then at Bruce,
+
+"I suppose this discovery about the silencer is responsible for the
+deputation waiting in the courtyard," he said drily.
+
+"The police don't know about it yet," replied Bruce; "at least they
+didn't when I left."
+
+Robin shook his head dubiously.
+
+"If the servants know it, Manderton will worm it out of them. Hasn't he
+cross-examined Jay?"
+
+"Yes," said Bruce. "But he got nothing out of him about this. Manderton
+seems to have put everybody's back up. He gets nothing out of the
+servants ..."
+
+"If Parrish had had this silencer for some time, you may be sure that
+other people know about it. These silencers must be pretty rare in
+England. You see, an average person like myself didn't know what it was.
+By the way, another point which we haven't yet cleared up is this:
+supposing we are right in believing Parrish to have been murdered, how
+do you explain the fact that the bullet removed from his body fitted his
+pistol?"
+
+"That's a puzzler, I must say!" said Bruce.
+
+"There's only one possible explanation, I think," Robin went on, "and
+that is that Parrish was shot by a pistol of exactly the same calibre as
+his own. For the murderer to have killed Parrish with his own weapon
+would have been difficult without a struggle. But Miss Trevert heard no
+struggle. For murderer and his victim to have pistols of the same
+calibre argues a rather remarkable coincidence, I grant you. But then
+life is full of coincidences! We meet them every day in the law. Though,
+I admit, this is a coincidence which requires some explaining ..."
+
+He fell into a brown study which Bruce interrupted by suddenly
+remembering that he had had no lunch.
+
+For answer Robin pointed at the sideboard.
+
+"There's a cloth in there," he said, "also the whisky, if my laundress
+has left any, and a siphon and there should be some claret--Mrs. Bragg
+doesn't care about red wine. Set the table, and I'll take a root round
+in the kitchen and dig up some tinned stuff."
+
+They supped off a tinned tongue and some _pate de foie gras_. Over their
+meal Bruce told Robin of his adventure in the library at Harkings.
+
+"Jeekes must have collected that letter," Bruce said. "Before I came to
+you, I went to Lincoln's Inn Fields to see if he was still at
+Bardy's--Parrish's solicitor, you know. But the office was closed, and
+the place in darkness. I went on to the Junior Pantheon, that's Jeekes's
+club, but he wasn't in. He hadn't been there all day, the porter told me.
+So I left a note asking him to ring you up here ..."
+
+"The case reeks of blackmail," said Robin thoughtfully, "but I am
+wondering how much we shall glean from this precious letter when we do
+see it. I am glad you asked Jeekes to ring me up, though. He should be
+able to tell us something about these mysterious letters on the blue
+paper that used to put Parrish in such a stew ... Hullo, who can that
+be?"
+
+An electric bell trilled through the flat. It rang once ... twice ...
+and then a third time, a long, insistent peal.
+
+"See who's there, will you, Bruce?" said Robin.
+
+"Suppose it's the police ..." began the boy.
+
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You can say I'm at home and ask them in," he said.
+
+He heard the heavy oaken door swing open, a murmur of voices in the
+hall. The next moment Detective-Inspector Manderton entered the
+sitting-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+MR. MANDERTON LAYS HIS CARDS ON THE TABLE
+
+
+The detective's manner had undergone some subtle change which Robin,
+watching him closely as he came into the room, was quick to note. Mr.
+Manderton made an effort to retain his old air of rather patronizing
+swagger; but he seemed less sure of himself than was his wont. In fact,
+he appeared to be a little anxious.
+
+He walked briskly into the sitting-room and looked quickly from Bruce to
+Robin.
+
+"Mr. Greve," he said, "you can help me if you will by answering a few
+questions ..."
+
+With another glance at Bruce Wright he added:
+
+"... in private."
+
+Bruce, obedient to a sign from Robin, said he would ring up in the
+morning and prepared to take his leave. Robin turned to the detective.
+
+"There are some of your men, I believe," he said coldly, "watching this
+house. Would it be asking too much to request that my friend here might
+be permitted to return home unescorted?"
+
+"He needn't worry," replied Manderton with a significant smile.
+"There's no one outside now!..."
+
+They watched Bruce Wright pass into the hall and collect his hat and
+coat. As the front door slammed behind him, the detective added:
+
+"I took 'em off myself soon after seven o'clock!"
+
+"Why?" asked Robin bluntly.
+
+Mr. Manderton dropped his heavy form into a chair.
+
+"I'm a plain man, Mr. Greve," he said, "and I'm not above owning to it,
+I hope, when I'm wrong. For some little time now it has struck me that
+our lines of investigation run parallel ..."
+
+"Instead of crossing!"
+
+"Instead of crossing--exactly!"
+
+"It's a pity you did not grasp that very obvious fact earlier," observed
+Robin pointedly.
+
+Mr. Manderton crossed one leg over the other and, his finger-tips
+pressed together, looked at Robin.
+
+"Will you help me?" he asked simply.
+
+"Do you want my help?"
+
+Mr. Manderton nodded.
+
+"Allies, then?"
+
+"Allies it is!"
+
+Robin pointed to the table.
+
+"It's dry work talking," he said. "Won't you take a drink?"
+
+"Thanks, I don't drink. But I'll have a cigar if I may. Thank you!"
+
+The detective helped himself to a cheroot from a box on the table and
+lit up. Then, affecting to scan the end of his cigar with great
+attention, he asked abruptly:
+
+"What do you know of the woman calling herself Madame de Malpas?"
+
+Robin pursed up his lips rather disdainfully.
+
+"One of the late Mr. Parrish's lady friends," he replied. "I expect you
+know that!"
+
+"Do you know where she lives?" pursued the detective, ignoring the
+implied question.
+
+"She's dead."
+
+A flicker of interest appeared for an instant in Mr. Manderton's keen
+eyes.
+
+"You're sure of that?"
+
+"Certainly," answered Robin.
+
+"Who told you?"
+
+"Le Hagen--the solicitor, you know. He acted for this Malpas woman on
+one or two occasions."
+
+"When did she die?"
+
+"Six or seven months ago ..."
+
+"Did Jeekes know about it?"
+
+"Jeekes? Do you mean Parrish's secretary?
+
+"It's funny your asking that. As a matter of fact, it was through Jeekes
+that I heard the lady was dead. I was in Le Hagen's office one day when
+Jeekes came in, and Le Hagen told me Jeekes had come to pay in a cheque
+for the cost of the funeral and the transport of the body to France."
+
+"This was six or seven months ago, you say? I take it, then, that any
+allowance that Parrish was in the habit of making to this woman has
+ceased?"
+
+"I tell you the lady is dead!"
+
+"Then what would you say if I informed you that Mr. Jeekes had declared
+that these payments were still going on ..."
+
+Robin shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I should say he was lying ..."
+
+"I agree. But why?"
+
+"Whom did he tell this to?"
+
+"Miss Trevert!"
+
+"Miss Trevert?"
+
+Robin repeated the name in amazement.
+
+"I don't understand," he said. "Why on earth should Jeekes blacken his
+employer's character to Miss Trevert? What conceivable motive could he
+have had? Did she tell you this?"
+
+"No," said Manderton; "I heard him tell her myself."
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," protested Robin, growing more and more
+puzzled, "that Jeekes told Miss Trevert this offensive and deliberate
+lie in your presence!"
+
+"Well," remarked Mr. Manderton slowly, "I don't know about his saying
+this in my presence exactly. But I heard him tell her for all that.
+Walls have ears, you know--particularly if the door is ajar!"
+
+He looked shrewdly at Robin, then dropped his eyes to the floor.
+
+"He also told her that Le Hagen and you were in business relations ..."
+
+Robin sat up at this.
+
+"Ah!" he said shortly. "I see what you're getting at now. Our friend has
+been trying to set Miss Trevert against me, eh? But why? I don't even
+know this man Jeekes except to have nodded 'Good-morning' to him a few
+times. Why on earth should he of all men go out of his way to slander me
+to Miss Trevert, to throw suspicion ..."
+
+He broke off short and looked at the detective.
+
+Mr. Manderton caressed his big black moustache.
+
+"Yes," he repeated suavely, "you were saying 'to cast suspicion' ..."
+
+The eyes of the two men met. Then the detective leaned back in his
+chair and, blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips, said:
+
+"Mr. Greve, you've been thinking ahead of me on this case. What you've
+told me so far I've checked. And you're right. Dead right. And since
+you're, in a manner of speaking, one of the parties interested in
+getting things cleared up, I'd like you to tell me just simply what idea
+you've formed about it ..."
+
+"Gladly," answered the barrister. "And to start with let me tell you
+that the case stinks of blackmail ..."
+
+"Steady on," interposed the detective. "I thought so, too, at first.
+I've been into all that. Mr. Parrish made a clean break with the last of
+his lady friends about two months since; and, as far as our
+investigations go, there has been no blackmail in connection with any of
+his women pals. Vine Street knows all about Master Parrish. There were
+complaints about some of his little parties up in town. But I don't
+believe there's a woman in this case ..."
+
+"I didn't say there was," retorted Robin. "The blackmail is probably
+being levied from Holland. A threat of violence was finally carried into
+effect on Saturday evening between 5 and 5.15 P.M. by some one
+conversant with the lie of the land at Harkings. This individual, armed
+with an automatic Browning of the same calibre as Mr. Parrish's, shot
+at Parrish through the open window of the library and killed
+him--probably in self-defence, after Parrish had had a shot at him ..."
+
+"Steady there, whoa!" said Mr. Manderton in a jocular way clearly
+expressive of his incredulity; "there was only one shot ..."
+
+"There were _two_," was Robin's dispassionate reply. "Though maybe only
+one was heard. Parrish had a Maxim silencer on his gun ..."
+
+Mr. Manderton was now thoroughly alert.
+
+"How did you find that out?" he asked.
+
+"Jay, Parrish's man, came forward and volunteered this evidence ..."
+
+"He said nothing about it when I questioned him," grumbled the
+detective.
+
+Robin laughed.
+
+"You're a terror to the confirmed criminal, they tell me, Manderton," he
+said, "but you obviously don't understand that complicated mechanism
+known as the domestic servant. No servant at Harkings will voluntarily
+tell _you_ anything ..."
+
+Mr. Manderton, who had stood up, shook his big frame impatiently.
+
+"Explain the rest of your theories," he said harshly. "What's all this
+about blackmail being levied from Holland?"
+
+Then Robin Greve told him of the letters written on the slatey-blue
+paper and of their effect upon Parrish, and of the letter headed, "Elias
+van der Spyck & Co., General Importers, Rotterdam," which had lain on
+the desk in the library when Parrish's dead body had been found.
+
+Manderton nodded gloomily.
+
+"It was there right enough," he remarked. "I saw it. A letter about
+steel shipments and the dockers' strike, wasn't it? As there seemed
+nothing to it, I left it with the other papers for Jeekes, the secretary
+chap. But what evidence is there that this was blackmail?"
+
+"This," said Robin, and showed the detective the sheet of blue paper
+with its series of slits. "Manderton," he said, "these letters written
+on this blue paper were in code, I feel sure. Why should not this be the
+key? You see it bears a date--'Nov. 25.' May it not refer to that
+letter? I found it by Parrish's body on the carpet in the library. I
+would have given it to you at Harkings, but I shoved it in my pocket and
+forgot all about it until I was in the train coming up to town this
+morning."
+
+Mr. Manderton took the sheet of paper, turned it over, and held it up to
+the light. Then, without comment, he put it away in the pocket of his
+jacket.
+
+"If Parrish killed himself," Robin went on earnestly, "that letter drove
+him to it. If, on the other hand, he was murdered, may not that letter
+have contained a warning?"
+
+"I should prefer to suspend judgment until we've seen the letter, Mr.
+Greve," said the detective bluntly. "We must get it from Jeekes. In the
+meantime, what makes you think that the murderer (to follow up your
+theory) was conversant with the lay of the land at Harkings?"
+
+"Because," answered Robin, "the murderer left no tracks on the grass or
+flower-beds. He stuck to the hard gravel path throughout. That path,
+which runs from the drive through the rosery to the gravel path round
+the house just under the library window, is precious hard to find in the
+dark, especially where it leaves the drive, as at the outset it is a
+mere thread between the rhododendron bushes. And, as I know from
+experience, unless you are acquainted with the turns in the path, it is
+very easy to get off it in the dark, especially in the rosery, and go
+blundering on to the flower-beds. And I'll tell you something else about
+the murderer. He--or she--was of small stature--not much above five
+foot six in height. The upward diagonal course of the bullet through
+Parrish's heart shows that ..."
+
+Mr. Manderton shook his head dubiously.
+
+"Very ingenious," he commented. "But you go rather fast, Mr. Greve. We
+must test your theory link by link. There may be an explanation for
+Jeekes's apparently inexplicable lie to the young lady. Let's see him
+and hear what he says. The grounds at Harkings must be searched for this
+second bullet, if second bullet there is, the mark on the tree examined
+by an expert. And since two bullets argue two pistols in this case, let
+us see what result we get from our enquiries as to where Mr. Parrish
+bought his pistol. He may have had two pistols ..."
+
+"If Parrish used a silencer," remarked Robin, quite undisconcerted by
+the other's lack of enthusiasm, "and my theory that two shots were fired
+is correct, there must have been two reports, a loud one and a muffled
+one. Miss Trevert heard one report, as we know. Did she hear a second?"
+
+"She said nothing about it," remarked the detective.
+
+"She was probably asked nothing about it. But we can get this point
+cleared up at once. There's the telephone. Ring up Harkings and ask her
+now."
+
+"Why not?" said Mr. Manderton and moved to the telephone.
+
+There is little delay on the long-distance lines on a Sunday evening,
+and the call to Harkins came through almost at once. Bude answered the
+telephone at Harkings. Manderton asked for Miss Trevert. The butler
+replied that Miss Trevert was no longer at Harkings. She had gone to the
+Continent for a few days.
+
+This plain statement, retailed in the fortissimo voice which Bude
+reserved for use on the telephone, produced a remarkable effect on the
+detective. He grew red in the face.
+
+"What's that?" he cried assertively. "Gone to the Continent? I should
+have been told about this. Why wasn't I informed? What part of the
+Continent has she gone to?"
+
+Mr. Manderton's questions, rapped out with a rasping vigour that
+recalled a machine-gun firing, brought Robin to his feet in an instant.
+He crossed over to the desk on which the telephone stood.
+
+Manderton placed one big palm over the transmitter and turned to Robin.
+
+"She's gone to the Continent and left no address," he said quickly.
+
+"Ask him if Lady Margaret is there," suggested Robin.
+
+Mr. Manderton spoke into the telephone again. Lady Margaret had gone to
+bed, Bude answered, and her ladyship was much put out by Miss Trevert
+gallivanting off like that by herself with only a scribbled note left to
+say that she had gone.
+
+Had Bude got the note?
+
+No, Mr. Manderton, sir, he had not. But Lady Margaret had shown it to
+him. It had simply stated that Miss Trevert had gone off to the
+Continent and would be back in a few days.
+
+Again the detective turned to Robin at his elbow.
+
+"These country bumpkins!" he said savagely. "I must go to the Yard and
+get Humphries on the 'phone. He may have telegraphed me about it. You
+stay here and I'll ring you later if there's any news. What do you make
+of it, Mr. Greve?"
+
+"It beats me," was Robin's rueful comment. "And what about the inquest?
+It's for Tuesday, isn't it? Miss Trevert will have to give evidence, I
+take it?..."
+
+"Oh," said Mr. Manderton, picking up his hat and speaking in an offhand
+way, "I'm getting _that_ adjourned for a week!"
+
+"The inquest adjourned! Why?"
+
+There was a twinkle in the detective's eye as he replied.
+
+"I thought, maybe, I might get further evidence ..."
+
+Robin caught the expression and smiled.
+
+"And when did you come to this decision, may I ask?"
+
+"After our little experiment in the garden this morning," was the
+detective's prompt reply.
+
+Robin looked at him fixedly.
+
+"But, see here," he said, "apparently it was to the deductions you
+formed from the result of that experiment that I owe the attentions of
+your colleagues who have been hanging round the house all day. And yet
+you now come to me and invite my assistance. Mr. Manderton, I don't get
+it at all!"
+
+"Mr. Greve," replied the detective, "Miss Trevert tried to shield you.
+That made me suspicious. You tried to force my investigations into an
+entirely new path. That deepened my suspicions. I believed it to be my
+duty to ascertain your movements after leaving Harkings. But then I
+heard Jeekes make an apparently gratuitously false statement to Miss
+Trevert with an implication against you. That, to some extent, cleared
+you in my eyes. I say 'to some extent' because I will not deny that I
+thought I might be taking a risk in coming to you like this. You see I
+am frank!..."
+
+The smile had left Greve's face and he looked rather grim.
+
+"You're pretty deep, aren't you?" was his brief comment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE CODE KING
+
+
+Major Euan MacTavish was packing. A heavy and well-worn leather
+portmanteau, much adorned with foreign luggage labels, stood in the
+centre of the floor. From a litter of objects piled up on a side table
+the Major was transferring to it various brown-paper packages which he
+checked by a list in his hand.
+
+The Major always packed for himself. He packed with the neatness and
+rapidity derived from long experience of travel. As a matter of fact, he
+could not afford a manservant any more than he could allow himself
+quarters more luxurious than the rather grimy bedroom in Bury Street
+which housed him during his transient appearances in town. The
+remuneration doled out by the Foreign Office to the quiet and
+unobtrusive gentlemen known as King's messengers is, in point of fact,
+out of all proportion to the prestige and glamour surrounding the silver
+greyhound badge, an example of which was tucked away in a pocket of the
+Major's blue serge jacket hanging over the back of a chair.
+
+"Let's see," said the Major, addressing a large brown-paper covered
+package standing in the corner of the room, "you're the bird-cage for
+Lady Sylvia at The Hague. Two pounds of candles for Mrs. Harry Deepdale
+at Berlin; the razor blades for Sir Archibald at Prague; the Teddy bear
+for Marjorie; polo-balls for the Hussars at Constantinople--there! I
+think that's the lot! Hullo, hullo, who the devil's that?"
+
+With a groaning of wires a jangling bell tinkled through the hall (the
+Major's bedroom was on the ground floor). Sims, the aged ex-butler, who,
+with his wife, "did for" his lodgers in more ways than one, was out and
+the single servant-maid had her Sunday off. Euan MacTavish glanced at
+his wrist watch. It showed the hour to be ten minutes past nine. A
+flowered silk smoking-coat over his evening clothes and a briar pipe in
+his mouth, he went out into the hall and opened the front door.
+
+It was a drenching night. The lamps from a taxi which throbbed dully in
+the street outside the house threw a gleaming band of light on the
+shining pavement. At the door stood a taxi-driver.
+
+"There's a lady asking for Major MacTavish," he said, pointing at the
+cab. The Major stepped across to the cab and opened the door.
+
+"Oh, Euan," said a girl's voice, "how lucky I am to catch you!"
+
+"Why, Mary," exclaimed the Major, "what on earth brings you round to me
+on a night like this? I only came up from the country this afternoon and
+I'm off for Constantinople in the morning!"
+
+"Euan," said Mary Trevert, "I want to talk to you. Where can we talk?"
+
+The Major raised his eyebrows. He was a little man with grizzled hair
+and finely cut, rather sharp features.
+
+"Well," he remarked, "there's not a soul in the house, and I've only got
+a bedroom here. Though we're cousins, Mary, my dear, I don't know that
+you ought to...."
+
+"You're a silly old-fashioned old dear," exclaimed the girl, "and I'm
+coming in. No, I'll keep the cab. We shall want it!"
+
+"All right," said the Major, helping her to alight. "I tell you what.
+We'll go into Harry Prankhurst's sitting-room. He's away for the
+week-end, anyway!"
+
+He took Mary Trevert into a room off the hall and switched on the
+electric light. Then for the first time he saw how pale she looked.
+
+"My dear," he said, "I know what an awful shock you've had...."
+
+"You've heard about it?"
+
+"I saw it in the Sunday papers. I was going to write to you."
+
+"Euan," the girl began in a nervous, hasty way, "I have to go to Holland
+at once. There is not a moment to lose. I want you to help me get my
+passport viseed."
+
+"But, my dear girl," exclaimed the Major, aghast, "you can't go to
+Holland like this alone. Does your mother know about it?"
+
+The girl shook her head.
+
+"It's no good trying to stop me, Euan," she declared. "I mean to go,
+anyway. As a matter of fact, Mother doesn't know. I merely left word
+that I had gone to the Continent for a few days. Nobody knows about
+Holland except you. And if you won't help me I suppose I shall have to
+go to Harry Tadworth at the Foreign Office. I came to you first because
+he's always so stuffy ..."
+
+Euan MacTavish pushed the girl into a chair and gave her a cigarette. He
+lit it for her and took one himself. His pipe had vanished into his
+pocket.
+
+"Of course, I'll help you," he said. "Now, tell me all about it!"
+
+"Before ... this happened I had promised Hartley Parrish to marry him,"
+began the girl. "The doctors say his nerves were wrong. I don't believe
+a word of it. He was full of the joy of life. He was very fond of me. He
+was always talking of what we should do when we were married. He never
+would have killed himself without some tremendously powerful motive.
+Even then I can't believe it possible ..."
+
+She made a little nervous gesture.
+
+"After he ... did it," she went on, "I found this letter on his desk. It
+came to him from Holland. I mean to see the people who wrote it and
+discover if they can throw any light on ... on ... the affair ..."
+
+She had taken from her muff a letter, folded in four, written on paper
+of a curious dark slatey-blue colour.
+
+"Won't you show me the letter?"
+
+"You promise to say nothing about it to any one?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Of course."
+
+Without a word the girl gave him the letter. With slow deliberation he
+unfolded it. The letter was typewritten and headed: "Elias van der Spyck
+& Co. General Importers, Rotterdam."
+
+This was the letter:
+
+  ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+  GENERAL IMPORTERS
+  ROTTERDAM Rotterdam 25th Nov.
+
+  _Codes_
+  A.B.C.
+  Liebler's
+
+  _Personal_
+  Dear Mr. Parrish,
+
+  Your favor of even date to hand and contents
+  noted. The last delivery of steel was to time but we have had
+  warning from the railway authorities that labour troubles at the
+  docks are likely to delay future consignments. If you don't
+  mind we should prefer to settle the question of future
+  delivery by Nov. 27 as we have a board meeting on the 30th
+  inst. While we fully appreciate your own difficulties with
+  labour at home, you will understand that this is a question
+  which we cannot afford to adjourn _sine die_.
+
+  Yours faithfully,
+  pro ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+
+The signature was illegible.
+
+Euan MacTavish folded the letter again and handed it back to Mary.
+
+"That doesn't take me any farther," he said. "What do the police think
+of it?"
+
+"They haven't seen it," was the girl's reply. "I took it without them
+knowing. I mean to make my own investigations about this ..."
+
+"But, my dear Mary," exclaimed the little Major in a shocked voice, "you
+can't do things that way! Don't you see you may be hindering the course
+of justice? The police may attach the greatest importance to this
+letter ..."
+
+"You're quite right," retorted the girl, "they do!"
+
+"Then why have you kept it from them?"
+
+Mary Trevert dropped her eyes and a little band of crimson flushed into
+her cheeks.
+
+"Because," she commenced, "because ... well, because they are trying to
+implicate a friend of mine ..."
+
+The Major took the girl's hand.
+
+"Mary," he said, "I've known you all your life. I've knocked about a
+good bit and know something of the world, I believe. Suppose you tell me
+all about it ..."
+
+Mary Trevert hesitated. Then she said, her hands nervously toying with
+her muff:
+
+"We believe that Robin Greve--you know whom I mean--had a conversation
+with Hartley just before he ... he shot himself. That very afternoon
+Robin had asked me to marry him, but I told him about my engagement. He
+said some awful things about Hartley and rushed away. Ten minutes later
+Hartley Parrish committed suicide. And there _was_ some one talking to
+him in the library. Bude, the butler, heard the voices. This afternoon I
+went down to the library alone ... to see if I could discover anything
+likely to throw any light on poor Hartley's death. This was the only
+letter I could find. It was tucked away between two letter-trays. One
+tray fitted into the other, and this letter had slipped between. It
+seems to have been overlooked both by Mr. Parrish's secretary and the
+police ..."
+
+"But I confess," argued the Major, "that I don't see how this letter,
+which appears to be a very ordinary business communication, implicates
+anybody at all. Why shouldn't the police see it?..."
+
+"Because," said Mary, "directly after discovering it I found Bruce
+Wright, who used to be one of Mr. Parrish's private secretaries, hiding
+behind the curtains in the library. Now, Bruce Wright is a great friend
+of Robin Greve's, and I immediately suspected that Robin had sent him
+to Harkings, particularly as ..."
+
+"As what?..."
+
+"As he practically admitted to me, that he had come for a letter written
+on slatey-blue official-looking paper."
+
+The girl held up the letter from Rotterdam.
+
+"All this," the girl continued, "made me think that this letter must
+have had something to do with Hartley's death ..."
+
+"Surely an additional reason for giving it to the police!..."
+
+Mary Trevert set her mouth in an obstinate line.
+
+"No!" she affirmed uncompromisingly. "The police believe that, as the
+result of a scene between Hartley and Robin, Hartley killed himself.
+Until I've found out for certain whether this letter implicates Robin or
+not, I sha'n't give it to the police ..."
+
+"But, if Greve really had nothing to do with this shocking tragedy, the
+police can very easily clear him. Surely they are the best judges of his
+guilt ..."
+
+Again a touch of warm colour suffused the girl's cheeks. Euan MacTavish
+remarked it and looked at her wistfully.
+
+"Well, well," he observed gently, "perhaps they're not, after all!"
+
+The girl looked up at him.
+
+"Euan, dear," she said impulsively, "I knew you'd understand. Robin and
+Hartley may have had a row, but it was nothing worse. Robin is incapable
+of having threatened--blackmailed--Hartley, as the police seem to
+imagine. I am greatly upset by it all; I can't see things clear at all;
+but I'm determined not to give the police a weapon like this to use
+against Robin until I know whether it is sharp or blunt, until I have
+found out what bearing, if any, this letter had on Hartley Parrish's
+death ..."
+
+Euan MacTavish leant back in his chair and said nothing. He finished his
+cigarette, pitched the butt into the fender, and turned to Mary. He
+asked her to let him see the letter again. Once more he read it over.
+Then, handing it back to her, he said:
+
+"It's all so simple-looking that there may well be something behind it.
+But, if you do go to Holland, how are you going to set about your
+enquiries?"
+
+"That's where you can help me, Euan, dear," answered the girl. "I want
+to find somebody at Rotterdam who will help me to make some confidential
+enquiries about this firm. Do you know any one? An Englishman would be
+best, of course ..."
+
+But Euan MacTavish was halfway to the door.
+
+"Wait there," he commanded, "till I telephone the one man in the world
+who can help us."
+
+He vanished into the hall where Mary heard him at the instrument.
+
+"We are going round to the Albany," he said, "to see my friend, Ernest
+Dulkinghorn, of the War Office. He can help us if any one can. But,
+Mary, you must promise me one thing before we go ... you must agree to
+do what old Ernest tells you. You needn't be afraid. He is the most
+unconventional of men, capable of even approving this madcap scheme of
+yours!"
+
+"I agree," said Mary, "but how you waste time, Euan! We could have been
+at the Albany by this time!"
+
+In a first-floor oak-panelled suite at the Albany, overlooking the
+covered walk that runs from Piccadilly to Burlington Gardens, they found
+an excessively fair, loose-limbed man whose air of rather helpless
+timidity was heightened by a pair of large tortoise-shell spectacles. He
+appeared excessively embarrassed at the sight of MacTavish's extremely
+good-looking companion.
+
+"You never told me you were bringing a lady, Euan," he said
+reproachfully, "or I should have attempted to have made myself more
+presentable."
+
+He looked down at his old flannel suit and made an apologetic gesture
+which took in the table littered with books and papers and the sofa on
+which lay a number of heavy tomes with marked slips sticking out between
+the pages.
+
+"I am working at a code," he explained.
+
+"Ernest here," said MacTavish, turning to Mary, "is the code king. Your
+pals in the Intelligence tell me, Ernest, that you've never been beaten
+by a code ..."
+
+The fair man laughed nervously.
+
+"They've been pullin' your leg, Euan," he said.
+
+"Don't you believe him, Mary," retorted her cousin. "This is the man who
+probably did more than any one man to beat the Boche. Whenever the
+brother Hun changed his code, Brother Ernest was called in and he
+produced a key in one, two, three!..."
+
+"What rot you talk, Euan!" said Dulkinghorn. "Working out a code is a
+combination of mathematics, perseverance, and inspiration with a good
+slice of luck thrown in! But isn't Miss Trevert going to sit down?"
+
+He cleared the sofa with a sweep of his arm which sent the books flying
+on to the floor.
+
+"Ernest," said MacTavish, "I want you to give Miss Trevert here a
+letter to some reliable fellow in Rotterdam who can assist her in making
+a few enquiries of a very delicate nature!"
+
+"What sort of enquiries?" asked Dulkinghorn bluntly.
+
+"About a firm called Elias van der Spyck," replied Euan.
+
+"Of Rotterdam?" enquired the other sharply.
+
+"That's right! Do you know them?"
+
+"I've heard the name. They do a big business. But hadn't Miss Trevert
+better tell her story herself?"
+
+Mary told him of the death of Hartley Parrish and of the letter she had
+found upon his desk. She said nothing of the part played by Robin Greve.
+
+"Hmph!" said Dulkinghorn. "You think it might be blackmail, eh? Well,
+well, it might be. Have you got this letter about you? Hand it over and
+let's have a look at it."
+
+His nervous manner had vanished. His face seemed to take on a much
+keener expression. He took the letter from Mary and read it through.
+Then he crossed the room to a wall cupboard which he unlocked with a key
+on a chain, produced a small tray on which stood a number of small
+bottles, some paint-brushes and pens, and several little open dishes
+such as are used for developing photographs. He bore the tray to the
+table, cleared a space on a corner by knocking a pile of books and
+papers on the floor, and set it down.
+
+"Just poke the fire!" he said to Euan.
+
+From a drawer in the table he produced a board on which he pinned down
+the letter with a drawing-pin at each corner. Then he dipped a
+paint-brush into one of the bottles and carefully painted the whole
+surface of the sheet with some invisible fluid.
+
+"So!" he said, "we'll leave that to dry and see if we can find out any
+little secrets, eh? That little tray'll do the trick if there's any
+monkey business to this letter of yours, Miss Trevert. That'll do the
+trick, eh, what?"
+
+He paced the room as he talked, not waiting for an answer, but running
+on as though he were soliloquizing. Presently he turned and swooped down
+on the board.
+
+"Nothing," he ejaculated. "Now for the acids!"
+
+With a little piece of sponge he carefully wiped the surface of the
+letter and painted it again with a substance from another bottle.
+
+"Just hold that to the fire, would you, Euan?" he said, and gave
+MacTavish the board. He resumed his pacing, but this time he hummed in
+the most unmelodious voice imaginable:
+
+  She was bright as a butterfly, as fair as a queen,
+  Was pretty little Polly Perkins, of Paddington Green.
+
+"It's dry!"
+
+MacTavish's voice broke in upon the pacing and the discordant song.
+
+"Well?"
+
+Dulkinghorn snapped out the question.
+
+"No result!" said Euan. He handed him the board.
+
+Dulkinghorn cast a glance at it, swiftly removed the letter, held it for
+an instant up to the electric light, fingered the paper for a moment,
+and handed the letter back to Mary.
+
+"If it's code," he said, "it's a conventional code and that always beats
+the expert ... at first. Go to Rotterdam and call on my friend, Mr.
+William Schulz. I'll give you a letter for him and he'll place himself
+entirely at your disposition. Euan will take you over. Holland is on
+your beat, ain't it, Euan? When do you go next?"
+
+"To-morrow," said the King's Messenger. "The boat train leaves Liverpool
+Street at ten o'clock."
+
+"You'll want a passport," said Dulkinghorn, turning to the girl.
+"You've got it there? Good. Leave it with me. You shall have it back
+properly viseed by nine o'clock to-morrow morning. Where are you
+stayin'? Almond's Hotel. Good. I'll send the letter for Mr. William
+Schulz with it!"
+
+"But," Euan interjected mildly, after making several ineffectual efforts
+to stem the torrent of speech, "do you really think that Miss Trevert
+will be well advised to risk this trip to Holland alone? Hadn't the
+police better take the matter in hand?"
+
+"Police be damned!" replied Dulkinghorn heartily. "Miss Trevert will be
+better than a dozen heavy-handed, heavy-footed plain-clothes men. When
+you get to Rotterdam, Miss Trevert, you trot along and call on William
+Schulz. He'll see you through."
+
+Then, to indicate without any possibility of misunderstanding, that his
+work had been interrupted long enough, Dulkinghorn got up, and, opening
+the sitting-room door, led the way into the hall. As he stood with his
+hand on the latch of the front door, Mary Trevert asked him:
+
+"Is this Mr. Schulz an Englishman?"
+
+"I'll let you into a secret," answered Bulkinghorn; "he _was_. But he
+isn't now! No, no, I can't say anything more. You must work it out for
+yourself. But I will give you a piece of advice. The less you say about
+Mr. William Schulz and about your private affairs generally when you are
+on the other side, the better it will be for you! Good-night--and good
+luck!"
+
+Euan MacTavish escorted Mary to Almond's Hotel.
+
+"I'm very much afraid," he said to her as they walked along, "that
+you're butting that pretty head of yours into a wasps' nest, Mary!"
+
+"Nonsense!" retorted the girl decisively; "I can take care of myself!"
+
+"If I consent to let you go off like this," said Euan, "it is only on
+one condition ... you must tell Lady Margaret where you are going ..."
+
+"That'll spoil everything," answered Mary, pouting; "Mother will want to
+come with me!"
+
+"No, she won't," urged her cousin, "not if I tell her. She'll worry
+herself to death, Mary, if she doesn't know what has become of you.
+You'd better let me ring her up from the club and tell her you're
+running over to Rotterdam for a few days. Look here, I'll tell her
+you're going with me. She'll be perfectly happy if she thinks I'm to be
+with you ..."
+
+On that Mary surrendered.
+
+"Have it your own way," she said.
+
+"I'll pick you up here at a quarter-past nine in the morning," said Euan
+as he bade the girl good-night at her hotel, "then we'll run down to
+the F.O. and collect my bags and go on to the station!"
+
+"Euan," the girl asked as she gave him her hand, "who is this man
+Schulz, do you think?"
+
+The King's messenger leant over and whispered:
+
+"Secret Service!"
+
+"Secret Service!"
+
+The girl repeated the words in a hushed voice.
+
+"Then Mr. Dulkinghorn ... is he ... that too?"
+
+Euan nodded shortly.
+
+"One of their leadin' lights!" he answered.
+
+"But, Euan,"--the girl was very serious now,--"what has the Secret
+Service to do with Hartley Parrish's clients in Holland?"
+
+The King's messenger laid a lean finger along his nose.
+
+"Ah!" he said, "what? That's what is beginning to interest me!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+A WORD WITH MR. JEEKES
+
+
+Life is like a kaleidoscope, that ingenious toy which was the delight of
+the Victorian nursery. Like the glass fragments in its slide, different
+in colour and shape, men's lives lie about without seeming connection;
+then Fate gives the instrument a shake, and behold! the fragments slide
+into position and form an intricate mosaic....
+
+Mark how Fate proceeded on the wet and raw Sunday evening when Bruce
+Wright, at the instance of Mr. Manderton, quitted Robin Greve's chambers
+in the Temple, leaving his friend and the detective alone together. To
+tell the truth, Bruce Wright was in no mood for facing the provincial
+gloom of a wet Sunday evening in London, nor did he find alluring the
+prospect of a suburban supper-party at the quiet house where he lived
+with his widowed mother and sisters in South Kensington. So, in an
+irresolute, unsettled frame of mind, he let himself drift down the
+Strand unable to bring himself to go home or, indeed, to form any plan.
+
+He crossed Trafalgar Square, a nocturne in yellow and black--lights
+reflected yellow in pavements shining dark with wet--and by and by
+found himself in Pall Mall. Here it was that Fate took a hand. At this
+moment it administered a preliminary jog to the kaleidoscope and brought
+the fragment labelled Bruce Wright into immediate proximity with the
+piece entitled Albert Edward Jeekes.
+
+As Bruce Wright came along Pall Mall, he saw Mr. Jeekes standing on the
+steps of his club. The little secretary appeared to be lost in thought,
+his chin thrust down on the crutch-handle of the umbrella he clutched to
+himself. So absorbed was he in his meditations that he did not observe
+Bruce Wright stop and regard him. It was not until our young man had
+touched him on the arm that he looked up with a start.
+
+"God bless my soul!" he exclaimed, "if it isn't young Wright!"
+
+Now the sight of Jeekes had put a great idea into the head of our young
+friend. He had been more chagrined than he had let it appear to Robin
+Greve at his failure to recover the missing letter from the library at
+Harkings. To obtain the letter--or, at any rate, a copy of it--from
+Jeekes and to hand it to Robin Greve would, thought Bruce, restore his
+prestige as an amateur detective, at any rate in his own eyes. Moreover,
+a chat with Jeekes over the whole affair seemed a Heaven-sent exit from
+the _impasse_ of boredom into which he had drifted this wet Sunday
+evening.
+
+"How are you, Mr. Jeekes?" said Bruce briskly. ("Mr." Jeekes was the
+form of address always accorded to the principal secretary in the
+Hartley Parrish establishment and Bruce resumed it instinctively.) "I
+was anxious to see you. I called in at the club this afternoon. Did you
+get my message?"
+
+The little secretary blinked at him through his _pince-nez_.
+
+"There have been so many messages about this shocking affair that really
+I forget ..."
+
+He sighed heavily.
+
+"Couldn't I come in and have a yarn now?"
+
+Bruce spoke cajolingly. But Mr. Jeekes wrinkled his brow fussily.
+
+There was so much to do; he had had a long day; if Wright would excuse
+him ...
+
+"As a matter of fact," explained Bruce with an eye on his man, "I wanted
+to see you particularly about a letter ..."
+
+"Some other time ... to-morrow ..."
+
+"Written on dark-blue paper ... you know, one of those letters H.P. made
+all the fuss about."
+
+Mr. Jeekes took his _pince-nez_ from his nose, gave the glasses a hasty
+rub with his pocket-handkerchief, and replaced them. He slanted a long
+narrow look at the young man.
+
+Then, "What letter do you mean?" he asked composedly.
+
+"A letter which lay on H.P.'s desk in the library at Harkings when they
+found the body ..."
+
+"There _was_ a letter there then ...?"
+
+"Haven't _you_ got it?"
+
+Jeekes shook his head.
+
+"Come inside for a minute and tell me about this," he said.
+
+He led Bruce into the vast smoking-room of the club. They took seats in
+a distant corner near the blazing fire. The room was practically
+deserted.
+
+Now, Mr. Jeekes's excessive carefulness about money had been a
+long-standing joke amongst his assistants when Bruce Wright had belonged
+to Hartley Parrish's secretarial staff. Thrift had become with him more
+than a habit. It was a positive obsession. It revealed itself in such
+petty meannesses as a perpetual cadging for matches or small change and
+a careful abstention from any offer of hospitality. Never in the whole
+course of his service had Bruce Wright heard of Mr. Jeekes taking
+anybody out to lunch or extending any of the usual hospitalities of
+life. He was not a little surprised, therefore, to hear Jeekes ask him
+what he would take.
+
+Bruce said he would take some coffee.
+
+"Have a liqueur? Have a cigar?" said Jeekes, turning to Bruce from the
+somnolent waiter who had answered the bell.
+
+There was a strange eagerness, a sort of over-done cordiality, in the
+invitation which contrasted so strongly with the secretary's habits that
+Robin felt dimly suspicious. He suddenly formed the idea that Mr. Jeekes
+wanted to pump him. He refused the liqueur, but accepted a cigar. Jeekes
+waited until they had been served and the waiter had withdrawn silently
+into the dim vastness of the great room before he spoke.
+
+"Now, then, young Wright," he said, "what's this about a letter? Tell me
+from the beginning ..."
+
+Bruce told him of the letter from Elias van der Spyck & Co. which Robin
+had seen upon the desk in the library at Harkings, of his (Bruce's)
+journey down to Harkings that afternoon and of his failure to find the
+letter.
+
+"But why do you assume that I've got it?"
+
+There was an air of forced joviality about Mr. Jeekes as he put the
+question which did not in the least, as he undoubtedly intended it
+should, disguise his eagerness. On the contrary, it lent his rather
+undistinguished features an expression of cunning which can only be
+described as knavish. Bruce Wright, who, as will already have been seen,
+was a young man with all his wits about him, did not fail to remark it.
+The result was that he hastily revised an intention half-formed in his
+mind of taking Jeekes a little way into his confidence regarding Robin
+Greve's doubts and suspicions about Hartley Parrish's death.
+
+But he answered the secretary's question readily enough.
+
+"Because Miss Trevert told me you went to the library immediately you
+arrived at Harkings last night. I consequently assumed that you must
+have taken away the letter seen by Robin Greve ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes drew in his breath with a sucking sound. It was a little
+trick of his when about to speak.
+
+"So you saw Miss Trevert at Harkings, eh?"
+
+Bruce laughed.
+
+"I did," he said. "We had quite a dramatic meeting, too--it was like a
+scene from a film!"
+
+And, with a little good-humoured exaggeration, he gave Mr. Jeekes a
+description of his encounter with Mary. And lest it should seem that
+young Wright was allowing Mr. Jeekes to pump him, it should be stated
+that Bruce was well aware of one of the secretary's most notable
+characteristics, a common failing, be it remarked, of the small-minded,
+and that was an overpowering suspicion of anything resembling a leading
+question. In order, therefore, to gain his confidence, he willingly
+satisfied the other's curiosity regarding his visit to Harkings hoping
+thereby to extract some information as to the whereabouts of the letter
+on the slatey-blue paper.
+
+"There was no letter of this description on the desk, you say, when you
+and Miss Trevert looked?" asked Jeekes when Bruce had finished his
+story.
+
+"Nothing but circulars and bills," Bruce replied.
+
+Mr. Jeekes leaned forward and drank off his coffee with a swift
+movement. Then he said carelessly:
+
+"From what you tell me, Miss Trevert would have been perhaps a minute
+alone in the room without your seeing her?"
+
+Bruce agreed with a nod.
+
+Adjusting his _pince-nez_ on his nose the secretary rose to his feet.
+
+"Very glad to have seen you again, Wright," he said, thrusting out a
+limp hand; "must run off now--mass of work to get through ..."
+
+Then Bruce risked his leading question.
+
+"If you haven't got this letter," he observed, "what has become of it?
+Obviously the police are not likely to have taken it because they know
+nothing of its significance ..."
+
+"Quite, quite," answered Mr. Jeekes absently, but without replying to
+the young man's question.
+
+"Why," asked Bruce boldly, "did old H.P. make such a mystery about these
+letters on the slatey-blue paper, Mr. Jeekes?"
+
+The secretary wrinkled up his thin lips and sharp nose into a cunning
+smile.
+
+"When you get to be my age, young Wright," he made answer, "you will
+understand that every man has a private side to his life. And, if you
+have learnt your job properly, you will also know that a private
+secretary's first duty is to mind his own business. About this letter
+now--it's the first I've heard of it. Take my advice and don't bother
+your head about it. _If_ it exists ..."
+
+"But it _does_ exist," broke in Bruce quickly. "Mr. Greve saw it and
+read it himself ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes laughed drily.
+
+"Don't you forget, young Wright," he said, jerking his chin towards the
+youngster in a confidential sort of way, "don't you forget that Mr.
+Greve is anxious to find a plausible motive for Mr. Parrish's suicide.
+People are talking, you understand! That's all I've got to say! Just you
+think it over ..."
+
+Bruce Wright bristled up hotly at this.
+
+"I don't see you have any reason to try and impugn Greve's motive for
+wishing to get at the bottom of this mysterious affair ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes affected to be engrossed in the manicuring of his nails. Very
+intently he rubbed the nails of one hand against the palm of the other.
+
+"No mystery!" he said decisively with a shake of the head: "no mystery
+whatsoever about it, young Wright, except what the amateur detectives
+will try and make it out to be. Or has Mr. Greve discovered a mystery
+already?"
+
+The question came out artfully. But in the quick glance which
+accompanied it, there was an intent watchfulness which startled Bruce
+accustomed as he was to the mild and unemotional ways of the little
+secretary.
+
+"Not that I know of," said Bruce. "Greve is only puzzled like all of us
+that H.P. should have done a thing like this!"
+
+Mr. Jeekes was perfectly impassive again.
+
+"The nerves, young Wright! The nerves!" he said impressively. "Harley
+Street, not Mr. Greve, will supply the motive to this sad affair,
+believe me!"
+
+With that he accompanied the young man to the door of the club and from
+the vestibule watched him sally forth into the rain of Pall Mall.
+
+Then Mr. Jeekes turned to the hall porter.
+
+"Please get me Stevenish one-three-seven," he said, "it's a trunk call.
+Don't let them put you off with 'No reply.' It's Harkings, and they are
+expecting me to ring them. I shall be in the writing room."
+
+When, twenty minutes later, Mr. Jeekes emerged from the trunk call
+telephone box in the club vestibule, his mouth was drooping at the
+corners and his hands trembled curiously. He stood for an instant in
+thought tapping his foot on the marble floor of the deserted hall dimly
+lit by a single electric bulb burning over the hall porter's box. Then
+he went back to the writing-room and returned with a yellow telegram
+form.
+
+"Send a boy down to Charing Cross with that at once, please," he said to
+the night porter.
+
+Fate which had brought Bruce Wright face to face with Mr. Jeekes gave
+the kaleidoscope another jerk that night. As Bruce Wright entered the
+Tube Station at Dover Street to go home to South Kensington, it occurred
+to him that he would ring up Robin Greve at his chambers in the Temple
+and give him an outline of his (Bruce's) talk with Jeekes. Bruce went to
+the public callbox in the station, but the rhythmic "Zoom-er! Zoom-er!
+Zoom-er!" which announces that a number is engaged was all the
+satisfaction he got. The prospect of waiting about the draughty station
+exit did not appeal to him, so he decided to go home and telephone
+Robin, as originally arranged, in the morning.
+
+Just about the time that he made this resolve, Robin in his rooms in the
+Temple was hanging up the receiver of his telephone with a dazed
+expression in his eyes. Mr. Manderton had rung him up with a piece of
+intelligence which fairly bewildered him. It bewildered Mr. Manderton
+also, as the detective was frank enough to acknowledge.
+
+Mary Trevert had gone to Rotterdam for a few days in company with her
+cousin, Major Euan MacTavish. Mr. Manderton had received this
+astonishing information by telephone from Harkings a few minutes before.
+
+"It bothers me properly, Mr. Greve, sir," the detective had added.
+
+"There's only one thing for it, Manderton," Robin had said; "I'll have
+to go after her ..."
+
+"The very thing I was about to suggest myself, Mr. Greve. You're
+unofficial-like and can be more helpful than if we detailed one of our
+own people from the Yard. And with the investigation in its present
+stage I don't reely feel justified in going off on a wild-goose chase
+myself. There are several important enquiries going forward now, notably
+as to where Mr. Parrish bought his pistol. But we certainly ought to
+find out what takes Miss Trevert careering off to Rotterdam in this
+way ..."
+
+"It seems almost incredible," Robin had said, "but it looks to me as
+though Miss Trevert must have found out something about the letter ..."
+
+"Or found it herself ..."
+
+"By Jove! She was in the library when Bruce Wright was there. This
+settles it, Manderton. I must go!"
+
+"Then," said the detective, "I'm going to entrust you with that slotted
+sheet of paper again. For I have an idea, Mr. Greve, that you may get a
+glimpse of that letter before I do. I'll send a messenger round with it
+at once."
+
+Then a difficulty arose. Manderton had not got the girl's address. They
+had no address at Harkings. Nor did he know what train Miss Trevert had
+taken. She might have gone by the 9 P.M. that night. Had Mr. Greve got a
+passport? Yes, Robin had a passport, but it was not viseed for Holland.
+That meant he could not leave until the following evening. Then Robin
+had a "brain wave."
+
+"There's an air service to Rotterdam!" he exclaimed. "It doesn't leave
+till noon. A pal of mine went across by it only last week. That will
+leave me time to get my passport stamped at the Dutch Consulate, to
+catch the air mail, and be in Rotterdam by tea-time! And, Manderton, I
+shall go to the Grand Hotel. That's where my friend stopped. Wire me
+there if there's any news ..."
+
+Air travel is so comfortably regulated at the present day that Robin
+Greve, looking back at his trip by air from Croydon Aerodrome to the big
+landing-ground outside Rotterdam, acknowledged that he had more
+excitement in his efforts to stir into action a lethargic Dutch passport
+official in London, so as to enable him to catch the air mail, than in
+the smooth and uneventful voyage across the Channel. He reached
+Rotterdam on a dull and muggy afternoon and lost no time in depositing
+his bag at the Grand Hotel. An enquiry at the office there satisfied him
+that Mary Trevert had not registered her name in the hotel book. Then he
+set out in a taxi upon a dreary round of the principal hotels.
+
+But fate, which loves to make a sport of lovers, played him a scurvy
+trick. In the course of his search it brought Robin to that very hotel
+towards which, at the selfsame moment, Mary Trevert was driving from
+the station. By the time she arrived, Robin was gone and, with despair
+in his heart, had started on a tour of the second-class hotels, checking
+them by the Baedeker he had bought in the Strand that morning. It was
+eight o'clock by the time he had finished. He had drawn a blank.
+
+The sight of a huge, plate-glass-fronted cafe reminded him that in the
+day's rush he had omitted to lunch. So he paid off his taxi and dined
+off succulent Dutch beefsteak, pounded as soft as velvet and swimming
+with butter and served in a bed of deliciously browned 'earth apples,'
+as the Hollaenders call potatoes. The cafe was stiflingly hot; there was
+a large and noisy orchestra in the front part and a vast billiard-saloon
+in the back--a place of shaded lights, clicking balls, and guttural
+exclamations. The heat of the place, the noise and the cries combined
+with the effect of his long journey in the fresh air to make him very
+drowsy. When he had finished dinner he was content to postpone his
+investigations until the morrow and go to bed. Emerging from the cafe he
+found to his relief that his hotel was but a few houses away.
+
+As he sat at breakfast the next morning, enjoying the admirable Dutch
+coffee, he reviewed the situation very calmly but very thoroughly. He
+told himself that he had no indication as to Mary Trevert's business in
+Rotterdam save the supposition that she had found the van der Spyck
+letter and had come to Rotterdam to investigate the matter for herself.
+He realized that the hypothesis was thin, for, in the first place, Mary
+could have no inkling as to the hidden significance of the document,
+and, in the second place, she was undoubtedly under the impression that
+Hartley Parrish was driven to suicide by his (Robin's) threats.
+
+But, in the absence of any other apparent explanation of the girl's
+extraordinary decision to come to Rotterdam, Robin decided he would
+accept the theory that she had come about the van der Spyck letter. How
+like Mary, after all, he mused, self-willed, fearless, independent, to
+rush off to Holland on her own on a quest like this! Where would her
+investigations lead her? To the offices of Elias van der Spyck & Co., to
+be sure! Robin threw his napkin down on the table, thrust back his
+chair, and went off to the hotel porter to locate the address of the
+firm.
+
+The telephone directory showed that the offices were situated in the
+Oranien-Straat, about ten minutes' walk from the hotel, in the business
+quarter of the city round the Bourse. Robin glanced at the clock. It
+was twenty minutes to ten. The principals, he reflected, were not likely
+to be at the office before ten o'clock. It was a fine morning and he
+decided to walk. The hotel porter gave him a few simple directions: the
+gentleman could not miss the way, he said; so Robin started off, hope
+high in his breast of getting a step nearer to the elucidation of the
+mystery of the library at Harkings.
+
+A brisk walk of about ten minutes through the roaring streets of the
+city brought him to a big open square from which, he had been
+instructed, the Oranien-Straat turned off. He was just passing a large
+and important-looking post-office--he remarked it because he looked up
+at a big clock in the window to see the time--when a man came hastily
+through the swing-door and stopped irresolutely on the pavement in
+front, glancing to right and left as a man does who is looking for a
+cab.
+
+At the sight of him Robin could scarcely suppress an expression of
+amazement. It was Mr. Jeekes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE MAN WITH THE YELLOW FACE
+
+
+In a narrow, drowsy side street at Rotterdam, bisected by a somnolent
+canal, stood flush with the red-brick sidewalk a small clean house. Wire
+blinds affixed to the windows of its ground and first floors gave it a
+curious blinking air as though its eyes were only half open. To the neat
+green front door was affixed a large brass plate inscribed with the
+single name: "Schulz."
+
+A large woman, in a pink print dress with a white cloth bound about her
+head, was vigorously polishing the plate as, on the morning following
+her departure from London, Mary Trevert, Dulkinghorn's letter of
+introduction in her pocket, arrived in front of the residence of Mr.
+William Schulz. Euan MacTavish had, on the previous evening, seen her to
+her hotel and had then--very reluctantly, as it seemed to
+Mary--departed to continue his journey to The Hague, his taxi piled high
+with white-and-green Foreign Office bags, heavily sealed with scarlet
+wax.
+
+Mary Trevert approached the woman, her letter of introduction, which
+Dulkinghorn, being an unusual person, had fastened down, in her hand.
+
+"Schulz?" she said interrogatively.
+
+"_Nicht da_," replied the woman without looking up from her rubbing.
+
+"Has he gone out?" asked Mary in English.
+
+"_Verstehe nicht_!" mumbled the woman.
+
+But she put down her cleaning-rag and, breathing heavily, mustered the
+girl with a leisurely stare.
+
+Mary repeated the question in German whereupon the woman brightened up
+considerably.
+
+The _Herr_ was not at home. The _Herr_ had gone out. On business,
+_jawohl_. To the bank, perhaps. But the _Herr_ would be back in time for
+_Mittagessen_ at noon. There was beer soup followed by _Rindfleisch_ ...
+
+Mary hesitated an instant. She was wondering whether she should leave
+her letter of introduction. She decided she would leave it. So she wrote
+on her card: "Anxious to see you as soon as possible" and the name of
+her hotel, and gave it, with the letter, to the woman.
+
+"Please see that Herr Schulz gets that directly he comes in," she said.
+"It is important!"
+
+"_Gut, gut_!" said the woman, wiping her hands on her apron. She took
+the card and letter, and Mary, thanking her, set off to go back to her
+hotel.
+
+About twenty yards from Mr. Schulz's house a narrow alley ran off. As
+Mary turned to regain the little footbridge across the canal to return
+to the noisy street which would take her back to the hotel, she caught
+sight of a man disappearing down this alley.
+
+She only had a glimpse of him, but it was sufficient to startle her
+considerably. He was a small man wearing a tweed cap and a tweed
+travelling ulster of a vivid brown. It was not these details, however,
+which took her aback. It was the fact that in the glimpse she had had of
+the man's face she had seemed to recognize the features of Mr. Albert
+Edward Jeekes.
+
+"What an extraordinary thing!" Mary said to herself. "It _can't_ be Mr.
+Jeekes. But if it is not, it is some one strikingly like him!"
+
+To get another view of the stranger she hurried to the corner of the
+alley. It was a mere thread of a lane, not above six yards wide, running
+between the houses a distance of some sixty yards to the next street.
+But the alley was empty. The stranger had disappeared.
+
+Mary went a little way down the lane. A wooden fence ran down it on
+either side, with doors at intervals apparently giving on the back yards
+of the houses in the street. There was no sign of Mr. Jeekes's double,
+so she retraced her steps and returned to her hotel without further
+incident.
+
+She had not been back more than half an hour when a waiter came in to
+the lounge where she was sitting.
+
+"Miss Trevert?" he said. "Zey ask for you at ze delephone!"
+
+He took her to a cabin under the main staircase.
+
+"This is Miss Trevert speaking!" said Mary.
+
+"I am speaking for Mr. Schulz," a man's voice answered--rather a nasal
+voice with a shade of foreign inflexion--"he has had your letter. He is
+very sorry he has been detained in the country, but would be very glad
+if you would lunch with him to-day at his country-house."
+
+"I shall be very pleased," the girl replied. "Is it far?"
+
+"Only just outside Rotterdam," the voice responded. "Mr. Schulz will
+send the car to the hotel to pick you up at 11.45. The driver will ask
+for you. Is that all right?"
+
+"Certainly," said Mary. "Please thank Mr. Schulz and tell him I will
+expect the car at a quarter to twelve!"
+
+Punctually at the appointed hour an open touring-car drove up to the
+hotel. Mary was waiting at the entrance. The driver was a young Dutchman
+in a blue serge suit. He jumped out and came up to Mary.
+
+"Mees Trevert?" he said.
+
+Mary nodded, whereupon he helped her into the car, then got back into
+the driving-seat and they drove away.
+
+A run of about twenty minutes through trim suburbs brought them out on a
+long straight road, paved with bricks and lined with poplars. The day
+was fine with a little bright sunshine from time to time and a high wind
+which kept the sails of the windmills dotting the landscape turning
+briskly. They followed the road for a bit, then branched off down a side
+turning which led to a black gate. It bore the name "Villa Bergendal" in
+white letters. The gate opened into a short drive fringed by thick
+laurel bushes which presently brought them in view of an ugly square
+red-brick house.
+
+The car drew up at a creeper-hung porch paved in red tiles. The
+chauffeur helped Mary to alight and, pushing open a glass door, ushered
+the girl into a square, comfortably furnished hall. Some handsome
+Oriental rugs were spread about: trophies of native weapons hung on the
+walls, and there were some fine specimens of old Dutch chests and blue
+Delft ware.
+
+The chauffeur led the way across the hall to a door at the far end. As
+Mary followed him, something bright lying on one of the chests caught
+her eye. It was a vivid brown travelling ulster and on it lay a brown
+tweed cap.
+
+Mary Trevert was no fool. She was, on the contrary, a remarkably
+quick-witted young person. The sight of that rather "loud" overcoat
+instantly recalled the stranger so strikingly resembling Mr. Jeekes who
+had disappeared down the lane as she was coming away from Mr. Schulz's
+house. Mr. Jeekes _was_ in Rotterdam then, and had, of course, been sent
+by her mother to look after her. What a fool she had been to allow Euan
+MacTavish to persuade her to tell her mother of her plans!
+
+Mary suddenly felt very angry. How dare Mr. Jeekes spy on her like this!
+She was quite capable, she told herself, of handling her own affairs,
+and she intended to tell the secretary so very plainly. And if, as she
+was beginning to believe, Mr. Schulz were acting hand in glove with Mr.
+Jeekes, she would let him know equally plainly that she had no intention
+of troubling him, but would make her own investigations independently.
+With a heightened colour she followed the chauffeur and passed through
+the door he held open for her.
+
+She found herself in a small, pleasant room with a bright note of colour
+in the royal blue carpet and window-curtains. A log-fire burned
+cheerfully in the fireplace before which a large red-leather
+Chesterfield was drawn up. On the walls hung some good old Dutch prints,
+and there were a couple of bookcases containing books which, by their
+bindings at least, seemed old and valuable.
+
+At the farther end of the room was another door across which a curtain
+of royal blue was drawn. Mary had scarcely entered the room when this
+door opened and a man appeared.
+
+He was carefully dressed in a well-cut suit of some dark material and
+wore a handsome pearl pin in his black tie. He was a dark, sallow type
+of man, his skin yellowed as though from long residence in the tropics.
+A small black moustache, carefully trained outwards from the lips,
+disclosed, as he smiled a greeting at his visitor, a line of broken
+yellow teeth. His hair, which was grizzled at the temples, was black and
+oily and brushed right back off the forehead. With his coarse black
+hair, his sallow skin, and his small beady eyes, rather like a snake's,
+there was something decidedly un-English about him. As Mary Trevert
+looked at him, somewhat taken aback by his sudden appearance, she became
+conscious of a vague feeling of mistrust welling up within her.
+
+The man closed the door behind him and advanced into the room, his hand
+extended. Mary took it. It was dank and cold to the touch.
+
+"A thousand apologies, my dear Miss Trevert," he said in a soft, silky
+voice, a trifle nasal, with a touch of Continental inflexion, "for
+asking you to come out here to see me. The fact is I had an important
+business conference here this morning and I have a second one this
+afternoon. It was materially impossible for me to come into Rotterdam ...
+But I am forgetting my manners. Let me introduce myself. I am
+Mr. Schulz ..."
+
+Mary Trevert looked at him thoughtfully. Was this the friend of Ernest
+Dulkinghorn, the man of confidence to whom he had recommended her? A
+feeling of great uneasiness came over her. She listened. The house was
+absolutely still. From the utter silence enveloping it--for aught she
+knew--she and her unsavoury-looking companion might be the only persons
+in it. And then she realized that, on the faith of a telephone call, she
+had blindly come out to a house, the very address of which was utterly
+unknown to her.
+
+She fought down a sudden sensation of panic that made her want to
+scream, to bolt from the room into the fresh air, anywhere away from
+those snake eyes, that soft voice, that clammy hand. She collected her
+thoughts, remembered that Jeekes must be somewhere in the house, as his
+outdoor things were in the hall. The recollection reminded her of her
+determination to tolerate no interference from Jeekes or her mother.
+
+So she merely answered: "It was no trouble to come," and waited for the
+man to speak again.
+
+He pulled forward the Chesterfield and made her sit down beside him.
+
+"I had the letter of introduction," he said, "and I want you to know
+that my services are entirely at your disposal. Now, what can I do for
+you?"
+
+He looked at the girl intently--rather anxiously, she thought.
+
+"That was explained in the letter," she answered, meeting his gaze
+unflinchingly.
+
+"Yes, yes, of course, I know. I meant in what way do you propose to make
+use of my ... my local knowledge?"
+
+"I will tell you that, Mr. Schulz," Mary Trevert said in a measured
+voice, "when you tell me what you think of the mission which has brought
+me here ..."
+
+The snake's eyes narrowed a little.
+
+"For a young lady to have come out alone to Holland on a mission of this
+description speaks volumes for your pluck and self-reliance, Miss
+Trevert ..."
+
+"I asked you what you thought of my mission to Holland, Mr. Schulz,"
+Mary interposed coldly.
+
+It was beginning to dawn on her that Mr. Schulz did not seem to know
+anything about the object of her visit, but, on the contrary, was
+seeking to elicit this from her by a process of adroit cross-examination.
+She was rather puzzled, therefore, but also somewhat relieved
+when he said:
+
+"I can give my opinion better after you have shown me the letter ..."
+
+"What letter?" said the girl.
+
+"The letter from Elias van der Spyck and Company, to be sure," retorted
+the other quickly.
+
+Mary dipped her hand into her black fox muff. Then she hesitated. She
+could not rid herself of the suspicion that this man with the sallow
+face and the yellow fangs was not to be trusted. She withdrew her hand.
+
+"This is a very delicate matter, Mr. Schulz," she said. "Our appointment
+was made by telephone, and I think therefore I should ask you to show me
+Mr. Dulkinghorn's letter of introduction before I go any further, so
+that I may feel quite sure in my mind that I am dealing with one in whom
+I know Mr. Dulkinghorn to have every confidence ..."
+
+Mr. Schulz's yellow face went a shade yellower. His mouth twisted itself
+into a wry smile, his thin lips fleshing his discoloured teeth. He
+stood up rather stiffly.
+
+"You are a guest in my house, Miss Trevert," he said with offended
+dignity, "I scarcely expected you to impugn my good faith. Surely my
+word is sufficient ..."
+
+He turned his back on her and took a couple of paces into the room in
+apparent vexation. Then he returned and stood at the back of the
+Chesterfield behind her. His feet made no sound on the thick carpet, but
+some vague instinct made Mary Trevert turn her head. She saw him
+standing there, twisting his hands nervously behind his back.
+
+"Surely my word is sufficient ..." he repeated.
+
+"In business," said Mary boldly, "one cannot be too careful."
+
+"Besides," Mr. Schulz urged, "this was a private letter which Mr. ...
+Mr. Dulkinghorn certainly did not expect you to see. That makes
+it awkward ..."
+
+"I think in the circumstances," said Mary, "I must insist, Mr. Schulz!"
+
+She was now feeling horribly frightened. She strained her ears in vain
+for a sound. The whole house seemed wrapped in a grave-like quiet. The
+smile had never left Mr. Schulz's face. But it was a cruel, wolfish grin
+without a ray of kindliness in it. The girl felt her heart turn cold
+within her every time her eyes fell on the mask-like face.
+
+Mr. Schulz shrugged shoulders.
+
+"Since you insist ..." he remarked. "But I think it is scarcely fair on
+our friend Dulkinghorn. The letter is in the safe in my office next
+door. If you come along I will get it out and show it to you ..."
+
+He spoke unconcernedly, but stiffly, as though to emphasize the slight
+put upon his dignity. One hand thrust jauntily in his jacket pocket, he
+stepped across the carpet to the door with the blue curtain. He opened
+it, then stood back for the girl to pass in before him.
+
+"After you!" he said.
+
+He had placed himself so close to the doorway that the black fox about
+her neck brushed his face as she passed. Suddenly a warm, sickly whiff
+of some sweet-smelling odour came to her. She stopped on the instant,
+irresolute, alarmed. Then a dank hand was clapped on her face, covering
+nostrils and mouth with a soft cloth reeking with a horrible cloying
+drug. An arm with muscles like steel was passed round her waist and held
+her in a vice-like grip against which she struggled in vain. She felt
+her senses slipping, slipping ...
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+TWO'S COMPANY ...
+
+
+On the pavement opposite the post-office stood one of those high pillars
+which are commonly used in Continental cities for the display of theatre
+and concert advertisements. Robin instantly stepped behind it. It was
+not that he wished to avoid being seen by Jeekes as much as that he had
+not decided in his mind what course he had best pursue. From behind the
+cover of the pillar he mustered his man.
+
+The little secretary looked strange and unfamiliar in a sporting sort of
+travelling ulster of a tawny brown hue and a cap of the same stuff. But
+there was no mistaking the watery eyes, the sharp nose, the features. He
+had obviously not seen Robin. His whole attention was rivetted on the
+street. He kept peering nervously to right and left as though expecting
+some one.
+
+Suddenly he stepped forward quickly to the kerb. Then Robin saw an open
+car detach itself from the press of traffic in the square and, driven
+very fast, approach the post-office. It was a large car with a grey
+body; a sallow man wearing a black felt hat sat at the wheel. The car
+drew up at the kerb and halted within a few feet of the advertisement
+pillar. Robin backed hastily round it to escape observation. He had
+resolved to do nothing until he had ascertained who Jeekes's friend was
+and what business the secretary had with him.
+
+"It's all right," Robin heard the man in the car say in English; "I
+telephoned the girl and she's coming. What a piece of luck, eh?"
+
+Robin heard the click of the car door as it swung open.
+
+"... better get along out there at once," he heard the man in the car
+say, "I'm sending Jan in the car for her at ..."
+
+Then Robin stepped out unexpectedly from behind his pillar and cannoned
+into Mr. Jeekes, who was just entering the car.
+
+"Good-morning," said Robin with easy assurance; "I'm delighted to hear
+that you've found Miss Trevert, Jeekes, for, to tell the truth, I was
+feeling somewhat uneasy about her ..."
+
+The secretary's face was a study. The surprise of seeing Robin, who had
+dropped, it seemed to him, out of the clouds into the city of Rotterdam,
+deprived him of speech for an instant. He blinked his eyes, looked this
+way and that, and finally, with a sort of blind gesture, readjusted his
+_pince-nez_ and glared at the intruder.
+
+Then, without a word, he got into the car. But Robin, with a firm hand,
+stayed the door which Jeekes would have closed behind him.
+
+"Excuse me," Robin remarked decidedly, "but I'm coming with you if your
+friend"--at this he looked at the man in the driving-seat--"has no
+objection ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes cast a frightened glance at the sallow man.
+
+The latter said impatiently:
+
+"We're wasting time, Jeekes. Who is this gentleman?"
+
+"This is Mr. Greve," said the little secretary hurriedly, "a friend of
+Mr. Parrish and Miss Trevert. He was staying in the house at the time of
+the tragedy. He has, I understand, taken a prominent part in the
+investigations as to the motive of our poor friend's sad end ..."
+
+Mr. Jeekes looked to Robin as he said this as though for confirmation.
+The man at the driving-wheel turned and gave the little secretary a
+quick glance. Then he mustered Robin with a slow, insolent stare. He had
+a yellow face and small black eyes quick and full of intelligence.
+
+Then he bowed.
+
+"My name is Victor," he said. "The sad news about Mr. Parrish was a
+great shock to me. I met him several times in London. Were you anxious
+to see Miss ... er ... Trevert? She has come to Rotterdam (so my friend
+Jeekes tells me) to look into certain important business transactions
+which the late Mr. Parrish had in hand at the time of his death. Did I
+understand you to say that you were uneasy about this lady? Is there any
+mystery about her journey?..."
+
+For the moment Robin felt somewhat abashed. The question was rather a
+poser. Was there, in effect, any mystery about Mary's trip to Rotterdam
+accompanied by her cousin? She had acquainted her people at Harkings
+with her plans. What if, after all, everything was open and above-board,
+and she had merely come to Rotterdam on business? It seemed difficult to
+believe. Surely in such a case the solicitor, Bardy, would have been the
+more suitable emissary ...
+
+"You'll forgive us, I'm sure," the yellow-faced man remarked suavely,
+"but we're in a great hurry. Would you mind closing that door?..."
+
+Robin closed the door. But he got into the car first. As he had stood on
+the pavement in doubt, the recollection of Jeekes's inexplicable lie
+about the payments made by Parrish for the French lady in the Mayfair
+flat came back to him and deepened the suspicion in his mind. It would
+in any case, he told himself, do no harm to find out who this rather
+unsavoury-looking Rotterdam friend of Jeekes's was ...
+
+So Robin jumped into the car and sat down on the back seat next to the
+secretary.
+
+"It happens," he said, "that I am particularly anxious to see Miss
+Trevert. As I gather you are going to meet her, I feel sure you won't
+mind my accompanying you ..."
+
+The yellow-faced man turned with an easy smile.
+
+"Sorry," he said, "but we are having a meeting with Miss Trevert on
+private business and I'm afraid we cannot take you along. Jeekes here,
+however, could take a message to Miss Trevert and if she _wanted_ to see
+you ..."
+
+He broke off significantly and smiled slily at the secretary. Robin felt
+himself flush. So Jeekes had been telling tales out of school to Mr.
+Victor, had he? The young man squared his jaw. That settled it. He would
+stay.
+
+"I promise not to butt in on your private business," he replied, "but I
+simply must see Miss Trevert before I go back to London. So, if you
+don't mind, I think I'll come along ..."
+
+The yellow-faced man glanced at his wrist watch.
+
+"I can't prevent you!" he exclaimed. Then he rapped out something in
+Dutch to Jeekes. The secretary leaned forward to catch the remark. The
+yellow-faced man threw in the clutch.
+
+"Goed!" (good), answered Jeekes in the same language, and resumed his
+seat as the car glided smoothly away from the kerb into the traffic of
+the busy square. Robin settled himself back in the seat with an
+inaudible sigh of satisfaction. He did not like the look of Jeekes's
+companion, he told himself, and Mr. Victor, whoever he was, had
+certainly manifested no great desire for Robin's company. But he was
+going to see Mary. That was all that counted for the moment.
+
+They threaded their way through the streets in silence. It passed
+through Robin's mind to start a discussion with Jeekes about the death
+of Hartley Parrish. But in the circumstances he conceived it might
+easily assume a controversial character, and he did not want to take any
+risk of jeopardizing his chance of meeting Mary again. And no other
+subject of conversation occurred to him. He did not know Jeekes at all
+well, knew him in fact only as a week-end guest knows the private
+secretary of his host, a shadowy personality, indispensable and part of
+the household, but scarcely more than a name ...
+
+The car had put on speed as they left the more crowded streets and
+emerged into the suburbs. Now they were running over a broad straight
+main road lined with poplars. Robin wondered whither they were bound.
+He was about to put the question to the secretary when the man Victor
+turned his head and said over his shoulder:
+
+"_Nu_!"
+
+At the same moment the speed of the car sensibly diminished.
+
+Jeekes put his arm across the young man at his side.
+
+"That door," he said, touching his sleeve, "doesn't seem to be properly
+shut. Would you mind ..."
+
+Robin pushed the door with his hand.
+
+"It seems all right," he said.
+
+"Permit me ..."
+
+The secretary stretched across and pulled back the latch, releasing the
+door. It swung out.
+
+"Now close it," said Mr. Jeekes.
+
+The door was flapping to and fro with the swaying of the car over the
+rough road and Robin had to half rise in order to comply with the
+request. He was leaning forward, steadying himself with one hand
+grasping the back of the driving-seat, when he received a tremendous
+shove in the back. At the same moment the car seemed to leap forward: he
+made a desperate effort to regain his balance, failed, and was whirled
+out head foremost on to the side of the road.
+
+Fortunately for himself he fell soft. The road ran here through a
+little wood of young oak and beech which came right down to the edge of
+the _chaussee_. The ground was deep in withered leaves which, with the
+rain and the water draining from the road's high camber, were soft and
+soggy. Robin went full length into this muss with a thud that shook
+every bone in his body. His left leg, catching in a bare gorse-bush,
+acted as a brake and stopped him from rolling farther. He sat up, his
+mouth full of mud and his hair full of wet leaves, and felt himself
+carefully over. He contemplated rather ruefully a long rent in the left
+leg of his trousers just across the knee.
+
+"Jeekes!" he murmured; "he pushed me out! The dirty dog!"
+
+Then he remembered that, with the men in the car gone, he had lost trace
+again of Mary Trevert. His forcible ejection from the car was evidence
+enough of their determination to deal with Mary without interference
+from outside. It looked ominous. Robin sprang to his feet and rushed to
+the middle of the road.
+
+The _chaussee_ was absolutely empty. About a hundred yards from where he
+stood in the direction in which the car had been travelling the road
+made a sharp bend to the right, thus curtailing his view. Robin did not
+hesitate. Not waiting to retrieve his hat or even to wipe the mud from
+his face, he started off at a brisk run along the road in the direction
+in which the car had disappeared. He had not gone far before he found
+that his heavy overcoat was seriously impeding him. He stripped it off
+and, folding it, hid it beneath a bush just inside the plantation. Then
+he ran on again.
+
+Fresh disappointment awaited him when he rounded the bend in the road. A
+few hundred yards on the road turned again. There was no sign of the
+car. A cart piled high with manure was approaching, the driver, wearing
+wooden shoes and cracking at intervals a huge whip, trudging at the
+side.
+
+Robin stopped him.
+
+"Motor-car? Automobile?" he asked pointing in the direction from which
+the cart had come. The driver stared at him with a look of owlish
+stupidity.
+
+"Automobile?" repeated Robin. "Tuff-Tuff?"
+
+Very slowly a grin suffused the carter's grimy face. He showed a row of
+broken black teeth. A tiny stream of saliva escaped from the corner of
+his mouth and trickled over the reddish stubble on his chin. Then he
+continued his way, turning his head every now and then to display his
+idiot's grin.
+
+"Damnation!" exclaimed Robin, starting to run again. "Not a soul to ask
+in this accursed desert except the village idiot! Oh! that Jeekes! I'll
+wring his blinking neck when I get hold of him!"
+
+He was furious with himself for the abject way in which he had been
+fooled. The man Victor had given Jeekes his orders in Dutch and had
+purposely picked a soft spot on the roadside and slowed down the car in
+order that the unwelcome intruder might be ejected as safely as
+possible. And to think that Robin had blandly allowed Jeekes to open the
+door and throw him out on the road!
+
+He was round the second bend now. The sun was shining with a quite
+respectable warmth and the steamy air made him desperately hot. The
+perspiration rolled off his face. But he never slackened his gait. Robin
+knew these Continental roads and their habit of running straight. He
+reckoned confidently on presently coming upon a long stretch where he
+might discern the car.
+
+He was not deceived. After the second bend the _chaussee_, just as he
+anticipated, straightened out and ran clear away between an
+ever-narrowing double line of poplars to become a bluish blob on the
+horizon. But of the car nothing was to be seen.
+
+For the second time Robin pulled up. He took serious counsel with
+himself. He estimated that he could see for about three miles along the
+road. Less than three minutes had elapsed since his misadventure, and
+therefore he was confident that the car should yet be in sight, unless
+it had left the road, for it could not have warmed up to a speed
+exceeding sixty miles an hour in the time. There was no sign of the car
+on the road, consequently it must have left it. Robin had passed no side
+roads between the scene of the accident and the second bend; therefore,
+he argued, he had the car before him still. He would go on.
+
+When he started off for the third time, it was at a brisk walking pace.
+As he went he kept a sharp lookout to right and left of the road for any
+trace of the car. It never occurred to him that to follow on foot a
+swift car bound for an unknown destination was the maddest kind of
+wild-goose chase. He was profoundly uneasy about Mary, but at the same
+time immeasurably angered by the trick played upon him--angered not so
+much against Jeekes as against the sallow-faced man whom he recognized
+as its inceptor. He had no thought for anything else.
+
+The flat Dutch landscape stretched away on either side of the road. A
+windmill or two, the inevitable irrigation canals with their little
+sluices, and an occasional tree alone broke the monotony of the scene.
+But away to the right Robin noticed a clump of trees which, he surmised,
+might conceivably enclose a house.
+
+As he walked, he scrutinized the roadway for any track of a car. But on
+the hard brick _pave_ wheels left no mark. The first side road he came
+to was likewise paved in brick. In grave perplexity Robin came to a
+halt.
+
+Then his eye fell upon a puddle. It lay on the edge of the footpath
+bordering the _chaussee_ about five yards beyond the turning. The soft
+mud which skirted it showed the punched-out pattern of a studded tyre!
+The car had not taken this side road, at any rate. It had probably
+pulled over on to the footpath to pass the manure cart which Robin had
+met. He pushed on again valiantly.
+
+Another hundred yards brought him to a second side road. There was no
+_pave_ here, but a soft sandy surface. And it bore, clearly imprinted in
+the mud, the fresh tracks of a car as it had turned off the road.
+
+Breaking into a run Robin followed the track down the turning. It led
+him to a black gate beyond which was a twisting gravel drive fringed
+with high laurels. And the gravel showed the same tyre marks as the
+road.
+
+He vaulted the gate lightly and ran up the drive. He was revolving in
+his head what his next move should be. Should he walk boldly into the
+house and confront Jeekes and his rascally looking companion or should
+he first spy out the ground and try to ascertain whether Mary had
+arrived? He decided on the latter course.
+
+Accordingly, when an unexpected turn of the drive brought him in view of
+a white porch, he left the avenue and took cover behind the laurel
+bushes. Walking softly on the wet grass and keeping well down behind the
+laurels, he went forward parallel with the drive. It ran into a clean
+courtyard with a coachhouse or garage on one side and a small green
+door, seemingly a side entrance into the house, on the other.
+
+There was no one in the courtyard and the house seemed perfectly quiet.
+From his post of observation behind the laurels, Robin observed that a
+tall window beside the green door commanded the view across the
+courtyard. He therefore retraced his steps by the way he had come. When
+he was past the corner of the house, he returned to the drive and
+keeping close to the bushes walked quietly into the courtyard. There,
+hugging the wall, he crept round past the closed doors of the garage
+until he found himself beside the tall window adjoining the green door.
+
+The window was open a few inches at the top. From within the sound of
+voices reached him. Jeekes was speaking. Robin recognized his rather
+grating voice at once.
+
+"... no more violence," he was saying; "first Greve and now the girl. I
+don't like your methods, Victor ..."
+
+Very cautiously Robin dropped on one knee and shuffled forward in this
+position until his eyes were on a level with the window-sill. He found
+himself looking into a narrow room, well lighted by a second window at
+the farther end. It was apparently an office, for there was a high desk
+running down the centre and a large safe occupied a prominent place
+against the wall.
+
+Jeekes and the man Victor stood chatting at the desk. The yellow-faced
+man was grinning sardonically.
+
+"Parrish don't like your methods, I'll be bound," he retorted. "Don't
+you worry about the little lady, Jeekes! Bless your heart, I won't hurt
+her unless ..."
+
+The loud throbbing of a car at the front of the house made Robin duck
+his head hastily. The car, he guessed, might be round at the garage any
+moment and it would not do for him to be discovered. He got clear of the
+window, rose to his feet, and tiptoed round the house by the way he had
+come. Then he crossed the drive and regained the shelter of the laurels.
+Crawling along until he came level with the porch, he peeped through.
+
+Mary Trevert was just entering the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THE METAMORPHOSIS OF MR. SCHULZ
+
+
+As the girl collapsed, the yellow-faced man, with an adroit movement,
+whisked the handkerchief off her face and crammed it into his pocket.
+Then, while he supported her with one arm, with the other he thrust at
+the door to close it. Without paying further attention to it, he turned
+and, bending down, lifted the girl without an effort off her feet and
+carried her across the room to the Chesterfield, upon which he laid her
+at full length. Then he seized her muff, which dangled from her neck by
+a thin platinum chain.
+
+Suddenly he heard the door behind him creak. In a flash he remembered
+that he had not heard the click of the lock as he had thrust the door
+to. He was springing erect when a firm hand gripped him by the back of
+the collar and pulled him away from the couch. He staggered back,
+striving to regain his balance, but then a savage shove flung him head
+foremost into the fireplace. He fell with a crash among the fire-irons.
+But he was on his feet again in an instant.
+
+He saw a tall, athletic-looking young man standing at the couch. He had
+a remarkably square jaw; his eyes were shining and he breathed heavily.
+He wore a blue serge suit which was heavily besmeared with white plaster
+and the trousers were rent across one knee. Straight at his throat
+sprang the yellow-faced man.
+
+Something struck him halfway. The young man had waited composedly for
+his coming, but as his assailant advanced, had shot out his left hand.
+There was a sharp crack and the yellow-faced man, reeling, dropped face
+downwards on the carpet without a sound. In his fall his foot caught a
+small table on which a vase of chrysanthemums stood, and the whole thing
+went over with a loud crash. He made a spasmodic effort to rise, hoisted
+himself on to his knees, swayed again, and then collapsed full length on
+the floor, where he lay motionless.
+
+The sound of the fall seemed to awaken the girl. She stirred uneasily
+once or twice.
+
+"What ... what is it?" she muttered, and was still again.
+
+Bending down, the young man gathered her up in his arms and bore her out
+through the door with the blue curtain, through a plainly furnished sort
+of office with high desks and stools, and out by a side door into a
+paved yard. There an open car was standing. The fresh air seemed to
+revive the girl further. As the young man laid her on the seat, she
+struggled up into a sitting position and passed her hand across her
+forehead.
+
+"What is the matter with me?" she said in a dazed voice; "I feel so
+ill!"
+
+Then, catching sight of the young man as he peered into her face, she
+exclaimed:
+
+"Robin!"
+
+"Thank God, you're all right, Mary," said Robin. "We've not got a moment
+to lose. We must get away from here quick!"
+
+He was at the bonnet cranking up the car. But the engine, chilled by the
+cold air, refused to start. As he was straining at the handle, a man
+dashed suddenly into the yard by the office door.
+
+It was Jeekes. The little secretary was a changed man. He still wore his
+_pince-nez_. But his mild air had utterly forsaken him. His face was
+livid, the eyes bulged horribly from his head, and his whole body was
+trembling with emotion. In his hand he held an automatic pistol. He came
+so fast that he was at the car and had covered Robin with his weapon
+before the other had seen him come.
+
+Mr. Jeekes left Robin no time to act. He called out in a voice that rang
+like a pistol shot:
+
+"Hands up, Mr. Smartie! Quick, d'you hear? Put 'em up, damn you!"
+
+Slowly, defiantly the young man raised his arms above his head.
+
+Mr. Jeekes stood close to the driver's seat, having prudently put the
+car between himself and Robin. As he stood there, his automatic levelled
+at the young man, a remarkable thing happened. A black, soft surface
+suddenly fell over his face and was pulled back with a brisk tug. Mary
+Trevert, standing up in the back seat of the car, had flung her fur over
+the secretary's head from behind and caught him in a noose. Before Mr.
+Jeekes could disentangle himself, Robin was at his throat and had borne
+him to the ground. The pistol was knocked skilfully from his hand and
+fell clattering on the flags. Robin pounced down on it. Then for the
+first time he smiled, a sunny smile that lit up his blue eyes.
+
+"Bravo, Mary!" he said. "That _was_ an idea! Now, then, Jeekes," he
+ordered, "crank up that car. And be quick about it! We want to be off!"
+
+The little secretary was a lamentable sight. He was bleeding from a cut
+on the forehead, his clothes were covered with dust, and his glasses had
+been broken in his fall. Peering helplessly about him, he walked to the
+bonnet of the car and sullenly grasped the handle. The smile had left
+Robin's face, and Mary noticed that he looked several times anxiously at
+the office door.
+
+And then suddenly the engine bit. Handing the pistol to the girl, Robin
+warned her to keep the secretary covered and, leaping into the
+driving-seat, turned the car into the avenue which curved round the
+house.
+
+Mr. Jeekes made no further show of fight. He remained standing in the
+centre of the courtyard, a ludicrous, rather pathetic, figure. As the
+tyres of the car gritted on the gravel of the drive, the office door was
+flung open and the yellow-faced man ran out, brandishing a big revolver.
+
+"Stop!" he shouted and levelled his weapon. The car seemed to leap
+forward and took the sharp turn on two wheels just as the man fired. The
+bullet struck the wall of the house and sent up a shower of plaster.
+Before he could fire again the car was round the house and out of sight.
+But as the car whizzed round the turn an instant before the yellow-faced
+man fired, the girl heard a sharp cry from Jeekes:
+
+"Don't, Victor ...!"
+
+The rest of the sentence was lost in the roar of the engine as the car
+raced away down the drive.
+
+They left the avenue in a splutter of wet gravel. The gate still stood
+open. They wheeled furiously into the side road and regained the
+_chaussee_. As yet there was no sign of pursuit. The car rocked
+dangerously over the broken _pave_, so Robin, after a glance behind,
+steadied her down to an easier pace. Mary, who looked very pale and ill,
+was lying back on the back seat with her eyes closed.
+
+They ran easily into Rotterdam as, with a terrific jangle of tunes
+played jerkily on the chimes, the clocks were striking two. Robin slowed
+down as they approached the centre of the city.
+
+"Where are you staying, Mary?" he asked.
+
+He had to repeat the question several times before she gave him the
+address. Then he found himself in a quandary. He was in a strange town
+and did not know a word of the language so as to be able to ask the way.
+However, he solved the difficulty without great trouble. He beckoned to
+a newspaper boy on the square outside the Bourse and, holding up a
+two-gulden piece, indicated by signs that he desired him as a guide. The
+boy comprehended readily enough and, springing on the footboard of the
+car, brought them safely to the hotel.
+
+Robin left Mary and the car in charge of the boy and went to the office
+and asked to see the manager. He had decided upon the story he must
+tell.
+
+"Miss Trevert," he said, when the manager, a blond and suave Swiss, had
+presented himself, "has been to the dentist and has been rather upset by
+the gas. Would you get one of the maids to help her up to her room and
+in the meantime telephone for a doctor. If there is an English doctor in
+Rotterdam, I should prefer to have him!"
+
+The manager clicked in sympathy. He despatched a lady typist and a
+chambermaid to help Mary out of the car.
+
+"For a doctor," he said, "it ees fortunate. We 'ave an English doctor
+staying in ze hotel now--a sheep's doctor. He is in ze lounge. Eef you
+come, _hein?_"
+
+The "sheep's doctor" proved to be a doctor off one of the big liners, a
+clean-shaven, red-faced, hearty sort of person who readily volunteered
+his services. As Robin was about to follow him into the lift, the
+manager stopped him.
+
+"Zere was a shentleman call to see Mees Trevert," he said, "two or three
+time 'e been 'ere ... a Sherman shentleman. 'E leave 'er a note ... will
+you take it?"
+
+Greatly puzzled, Robin Greve balanced in his hands the letter which
+the manager produced from a pigeon-hole. Then he tore open the envelope.
+
+  DEAR MISS TREVERT [he read], I was extremely
+  sorry to miss you this morning. Directly I received
+  your message I called at your hotel, but, though I
+  have been back twice, I have not found you in.
+  Circumstances have arisen which make it imperative that
+  I should see you as soon as possible. This is _most
+  urgent_. I will come back at four o'clock, as I cannot
+  get away before. Do not leave the hotel _on any pretext_
+  until you have seen me and Dulkinghorn's letter as
+  identification. You are in _grave danger_.
+
+The note was signed "W. Schulz."
+
+"H'm," was Robin's comment; "he writes like an Englishman, anyway."
+
+He ascertained the number of Mary Trevert's room and went up to her
+floor in the lift. He waited in the corridor outside the room for the
+doctor to emerge, and lit a cigarette to while away the time. It was not
+until he had nearly finished his second cigarette that the doctor
+appeared.
+
+The doctor hesitated on seeing Robin. Then he stepped close up to him.
+Robin noticed that his red face was more flushed than usual and his eyes
+were troubled.
+
+"What's this cock-and-bull story about gas you've put up to the
+manager?" he said bluntly in a low voice. "The girl's been doped with
+chloroform, as well you know. You'll be good enough to come downstairs
+to the manager with me ..."
+
+Robin took out his note-case and produced a card.
+
+"That's my name," he said. "You'll see that I'm a barrister ..."
+
+"Well?" said the doctor in a non-committal voice after he had read the
+card.
+
+"I'm not surprised to hear you say that Miss Trevert has been doped,"
+Robin remarked. "I found her here in a house on the outskirts of
+Rotterdam in the hands of two men, one of whom is believed to be
+implicated in a mysterious case of suspected murder in England. Through
+the part he played this morning, he has probably run his head into the
+noose. But he'll have it out again if we delay an instant. I told the
+manager that yarn about the dentist to avoid enquiries and waste of
+time. I have here a note from some man I don't know, addressed to Miss
+Trevert, warning her of a grave danger threatening her. It corroborates
+to some extent what I have told you. Here ... read it for yourself!"
+
+He handed the doctor the note signed "W. Schulz."
+
+The doctor read it through carefully.
+
+"What I would propose to you," said Robin, "is that we two should go off
+at once to this Herr Schulz and find out exactly what he knows. Then we
+can decide what action there is to be taken ..."
+
+He paused for the doctor's reply. The latter searched Robin's face with
+a glance.
+
+"I'm your man," he said shortly. "And, by the way, my name's
+Collingwood ... Robert Collingwood."
+
+"There's a car downstairs," said Robin, "and a guide to show us the way.
+Shall we go?"
+
+Five minutes later, under the newsboy's expert guidance, the car drew up
+in front of the small clean house with the neat green door bearing the
+name of "Schulz." Leaving the boy to mind the car, they rang the bell.
+The door was opened by the fat woman in the pink print dress.
+
+Robin gave the woman his card. On it he had written "About Miss
+Trevert." Speaking in German the woman bade them rather roughly to bide
+where they were, and departed after closing the front door in their
+faces. She did not keep them waiting long, however, for in about a
+minute she returned. Herr Schulz would receive the gentlemen, she said.
+
+Within, the house was spotlessly clean with that characteristic German
+house odour which always seems to be a compound of cleaning material and
+hot grease. Up a narrow staircase, furnished in plain oil-cloth with
+brass stair-rods, they went to a landing on the first floor. Here the
+woman motioned them back and, bending her head in a listening attitude,
+knocked.
+
+"_Herein_!" cried a guttural German voice.
+
+The room into which they entered would have been entitled to a place in
+any museum for showing the mode of life of the twentieth-century
+Germans. With its stuffy red rep curtains, its big green majolica stove,
+its heavy mahogany furniture, its oleographs of Bismarck, Roon, and
+Moltke, it might have been lifted bodily from a bourgeois house in the
+Fatherland.
+
+A man was sitting at a mahogany roll-top desk as they entered. The air
+in the room was thick with the fumes of the cheap Dutch cigar he was
+smoking. He was a sturdily built fellow with blond hair shaven so close
+to the skull that at a distance he seemed to be bald.
+
+At the sound of their entrance, he rose and faced them. When he stood
+erect the sturdiness of his build became accentuated, and they saw he
+was a man of medium height, but so muscular that he looked much shorter.
+A pair of large tortoise-shell spectacles straddled a big beak-like
+nose, and he wore a heavyish blond moustache with its points trained
+upwards and outwards rather after the fashion made famous in the
+Fatherland by William Hohenzollern. In his ill-cut suit of cheap-looking
+blue serge, which he wore with a pea-green tie, Robin thought he looked
+altogether a typical specimen of the German of the non-commissioned
+officer class.
+
+"You ask for me?" he said in deep guttural accents, looking at Robin;
+"I am Herr Schulz!"
+
+The German's manner was cold and formal and Robin felt a little dashed.
+
+"My name is Greve," he began rather hurriedly. "I understand you
+received a visit to-day from a young English lady, a Miss Trevert ..."
+
+The German let his eyes travel slowly from Robin to the doctor and back
+again. He did not offer them a chair and all three remained standing.
+
+"Ye-es, and what if I did?"
+
+Robin felt his temper rising.
+
+"You wrote a note to Miss Trevert at her hotel warning her that she was
+in danger. I want to know why you warned her. What led you to suppose
+that she was threatened?"
+
+Herr Schulz made a little gesture of the hand.
+
+"Wass I not right to warn her?"
+
+"Indeed, you were," Robin asserted with conviction. "She was spirited
+away and drugged."
+
+The German started. A frowning pucker appeared just above the bridge of
+his big spectacles and he raised his head quickly.
+
+"Drugged?" he said.
+
+"Certainly," said Robin. "This gentleman with me is a doctor ... Dr.
+Robert Collingwood, of the Red Lion Line. He has examined Miss Trevert
+and can corroborate my statement."
+
+"By Gad!" exclaimed Herr Schulz--and this time his English was
+faultless and fluent--"Shut that door behind you, Mr. Greve, and shoot
+the bolt--that's it just below the knob! Sit down, sit down, and while I
+mix you a drink, you shall tell me about this!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+THE READING OF THE RIDDLE
+
+
+In uttering those words Herr Schulz seemed suddenly to become
+loose-limbed and easy. His plethoric rigidity of manner vanished, and,
+though he spoke with a brisk air of authority, there was a jovial ring
+in his voice which instantly inspired confidence. With the change the
+illusion supported by his appalling clothes was broken and he looked
+like a man dressed up for charades.
+
+"Are you--English?" asked Robin in astonishment.
+
+"Only in this room," was the dry reply, "and don't you or our friend,
+the doctor, here forget it. You'll both take whisky? Three fingers will
+do you good, Mr. Greve, for I see you've had a roughish time this
+morning. Say when!"
+
+He spurted a siphon into three glasses.
+
+"Before we go any farther," he went on, "perhaps I had better identify
+myself--to save any further misunderstandings, don't you know? Do either
+of you gentlemen happen to know a party called Dulkinghorn? You may have
+heard of him, Mr. Greve, for I can see you have been in the army ..."
+
+"Not Ernest Dulkinghorn, of the War Office?" asked Robin.
+
+"The identical party!"
+
+"I never met him," said Robin. "But I was at the War Office for a bit
+before I was demobilized and I heard fellows speak of him.
+Counter-espionage, isn't he?"
+
+"That's right," nodded Herr Schulz. "You can read his letter to me
+introducing Miss Trevert."
+
+He handed a sheet of paper to Robin.
+
+  DEAR SCHULZ [it ran], Victor Marbran's push appear
+  to be connected with Hartley Parrish, who has
+  just met his death under suspicious circumstances.
+  You will have read about it in the English papers.
+  Miss Trevert was engaged to H.P. and has a letter
+  from Elias van der Spyck and Company which she
+  found on Parrish's desk after his death. I should say
+  that the Marbran-Parrish connection would repay investigation.
+
+                        Yours
+
+                           E. DULKINGHORN
+
+  P.S. The letter is, of course, in conventional code.
+
+  P.P.S. Don't frighten the life out of the Trevert
+  girl, you unsympathetic brute!
+
+Robin read the letter through to the end.
+
+"Then Mary Trevert has this letter from Rotterdam which we have been
+hunting for!" he cried. "Have you seen it?"
+
+Herr Schulz shook his head.
+
+"Miss Trevert called here this morning," he said, "when I was out. She
+gave her letter to Frau Wirth, my housekeeper, with her card and
+address. Frau Wirth was cleaning the plate on the front door and, a
+moment after Miss Trevert had gone, a fellow appeared and said he was a
+friend of Miss Trevert who had made a mistake and left the wrong letter.
+My housekeeper is well trained and wouldn't give the letter up. But she
+made the fatal mistake of telling the fellow exactly what he wanted to
+know, and that was who the letter was addressed to. 'The letter is
+addressed to Herr Schulz,' said this excellent woman, 'and if there's
+any mistake he will find it out when he opens it.' And with that she
+told him to clear out. Which, having got all he wanted, he was glad
+enough to do!"
+
+"What was this chap like?" asked Robin.
+
+The big man shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I can teach my servants discretion," he replied whimsically, "but I
+can't teach 'em to use their eyes. Frau Wirth could remember nothing
+about this fellow except that he wasn't tall and wore a brown overcoat ..."
+
+"Jeekes!" cried Robin, slapping his thigh. "He must have been actually
+coming away from your place when I met him ..."
+
+"And who," asked the big man, reflectively contemplating the amber
+fluid in his glass, "who is Jeekes?"
+
+In reply Robin told him the story of Hartley Parrish's death, his
+growing certainty that the millionaire had been murdered, the mysterious
+letters on slatey-blue paper, and Jeekes's endeavor to burke the
+investigations by throwing on Robin the suspicion of having driven
+Parrish to suicide by threats. He told of his chance meeting with Jeekes
+in Rotterdam that morning, his adventure at the Villa Bergendal, his
+finding and rescue of Mary Trevert, and their escape.
+
+Herr Schulz listened attentively and without interruption until Robin
+had reached the end of his story.
+
+"There's one thing you haven't explained," he said, "and that's how Miss
+Trevert came to walk into the hands of these precious ruffians ..."
+
+"There, perhaps, I can help you," said the doctor from behind one of
+Herr Schulz's rank cigars; "I have it from Miss Trevert herself. Some
+one impersonating you Mr.--er, ahem,--Schulz--telephoned her this
+morning, after she had left her letter of introduction here, asking her
+to come out to lunch at your country-house. She suspected nothing and
+went off in the car they sent for her ..."
+
+"By George!" said the big man thoughtfully; "I suspected some game of
+this kind when I heard of the attempt to get at that letter of
+introduction. If I only could have got hold of Marbran this morning ..."
+
+"Marbran!" said Robin thoughtfully. "When I read Dulkinghorn's letter
+just now I thought I had heard that name before. Of course--Victor
+Marbran! That was it! I remember now! He knew Hartley Parrish in the old
+days. Parrish once said that Marbran would do him an injury if he could.
+Who is Marbran, sir?"
+
+All unconsciously he paid the tribute of 'sir' to Herr Schulz's
+undoubted habit of command.
+
+"Victor Marbran," replied the big man, "is Elias van der Spyck & Co., a
+firm which made millions in the war by trading with the enemy. In every
+neutral country there were, of course, firms which specialized in
+importing contraband for the use of the Germans, but van der Spyck & Co.
+brought the evasion of the blockade to a fine art. They covered up their
+tracks, however, with such consummate art that we could never bring
+anything home to them. In fact, it was only after the armistice that we
+began to learn something of the immense scope of their operations. There
+was a master brain behind them. But it was never discovered. It strikes
+me, however, that we are on the right track at last ..."
+
+"By Jove ...!" exclaimed Robin impressively. "Hartley Parrish!..."
+
+The big man raised a hand.
+
+"_Attentions!_" he interposed suavely. "The chain is not yet complete. I
+wonder what this van der Spyck letter of Miss Trevert's contained that
+made Victor Marbran and the secretary chap so desperately anxious to get
+hold of it. For you understand, don't you?" he said briskly, turning to
+Robin, "that they were after that and that alone. And they risked penal
+servitude in this country to get it ..."
+
+Robin nodded.
+
+"To save their necks in another," he said.
+
+"I have the letter here," mildly remarked the doctor from his corner of
+the room. "Miss Trevert gave it to me!"
+
+He produced a white envelope and drew from it a folded square of
+slatey-blue paper. In great excitement Robin sprang forward.
+
+"You're a downy bird, Doctor, I must say," he remarked, "fancy keeping
+it up your sleeve all this time!"
+
+He eagerly took the letter, spread it out on the table, and read it
+through whilst Herr Schulz looked over his shoulder.
+
+"Code, eh?" commented the big man, shaking his head humorously. "If it
+beats Dulkinghorn, it beats me!"
+
+From his note-case Robin now drew a folded square of paper identical in
+colour with the letter spread out before them.
+
+"I found this on the carpet beside Parrish's body," he said. "Look, it's
+exactly the same paper ..."
+
+Behind the tortoise-shell spectacles the big man's eyes narrowed down to
+pin-points as he caught sight of the sheet which Robin unfolded and its
+series of slits.
+
+"Aha!" he cried--and his voice rang out clear through the room--"the
+grill, eh? Well, well, to think of that!"
+
+He took the slotted sheet of paper from Robin's hands and laid it over
+the letter so that it exactly covered it, edge to edge and corner to
+corner. In this way the greater part of the typewriting in the letter
+was covered over, and only the words appearing in the slots could be
+read. And thus it was that Robin Greve, Herr Schulz, and Dr.
+Collingwood, leaning shoulder to shoulder, read the message that came to
+Hartley Parrish in the library at Harkings....
+
+  ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+
+  GENERAL IMPORTERS
+
+  ROTTERDAM Rotterdam 25th Nov.
+
+  _Codes_
+  A.B.C.
+  Liebler's
+
+  _Personal_
+
+  Dear Mr. Parrish,
+
+  Your favour of even date to hand and contents
+  noted. _The last_ delivery of steel was to time but we have had
+  _warning_ from the railway authorities that labour troubles at the
+  docks are likely to delay future consignments. _If you don't_
+  mind we should prefer to _settle_ the question of future
+  delivery _by Nov. 27_ as we have a board meeting on the 30th
+  inst. While we fully appreciate your own difficulties with
+  labour at home, _you_ will understand that this is a question
+  which we cannot afford to adjourn _sine_ _die._
+
+  Yours faithfully,
+
+  pro ELIAS VAN DER SPYCK & CO.
+
+"'The last ... warning,'" Robin read out, "'if you don't ... settle ...
+by Nov. 27 ... you ... die ...!'"
+
+He looked up. "Last Saturday," he said, "was the 27th, the day that
+Parrish died ..."
+
+"The grill," remarked the big man authoritatively, "is one of the oldest
+dodges known to the Secret Service. It renders a conventional code
+absolutely undecipherable as long as it is skilfully worded, as it is in
+this case. You send your conventional code by one route, your key by
+another. I make no doubt that this was the way in which van der Spyck &
+Co. transacted their business with Hartley Parrish. They simply posted
+their conventional code letters through the post in the ordinary way,
+confident that there was nothing in them to catch the eye of the
+Censor's Department. The key might be sent in half a dozen different
+ways, by hand, concealed in a newspaper, in a parcel ..."
+
+"So this," said Robin, pointing at the letter, "was what caused Hartley
+Parrish to make his will. It would lead one to suppose that it was what
+induced him to commit suicide were not the presumption so strong that he
+was murdered. But who killed him? Was it Jeekes or Marbran?"
+
+Herr Schulz pitched his cigar-stump into an ash-tray.
+
+"That," he said, "is the question which I am going to ask you gentlemen
+to help me answer. You will realize that legally we have not a leg to
+stand on. We are in a foreign country where, without first getting a
+warrant from London, we can take no steps whatever to run these fellows
+in. To get the Dutch police to move against these gentry in the matter
+of the assault upon Miss Trevert would waste valuable time. And we have
+to move quickly--before these two lads can get away. I therefore propose
+that we start this instant for the Villa Bergendal and try, if we are
+not too late, to force Marbran or Jeekes or both of them to a
+confession. That done, we can hold them if possible until we can get the
+Dutch police to apprehend them at the instance of Miss Trevert. Then we
+can communicate with the English police. It's all quite illegal, of
+course! You have a car, I think, Mr. Greve! You will come with us, Dr.
+Collingwood? Good! Then let us start at once!"
+
+Robin intervened with a proposal that they should call _en route_ at his
+hotel to see if there were any telegrams for him.
+
+"Manderton knows I am in Rotterdam," he explained, "and he promised to
+wire me the latest developments in the enquiry he is conducting."
+
+"Miss Trevert should be fully recovered by this," put in the doctor;
+"apart from a little sickness she is really none the worse for her
+disagreeable experience. If there was anything you wanted to ask her ..."
+
+"There is," said Robin promptly. "Her reply to one question," he
+explained, turning to Herr Schulz, "will give us the certainty that
+Parrish was murdered and did not commit suicide. It will not delay us
+more than five minutes to stop at her hotel in passing, We will then
+call in at my place. We should be at the Villa within half an hour from
+now ..."
+
+"Gentlemen," said Herr Schulz as they prepared to go, "I know my Mr.
+Victor Marbran. You should all be armed."
+
+Robin produced the pistol he had taken from Jeekes. Herr Schulz slipped
+a Browning pistol into the breast-pocket of his jacket and, producing a
+long-barrelled service revolver, gave it to the doctor.
+
+"There are three of them, I gather, counting the chauffeur," commented
+the big man, pulling on his overcoat, "so we shall be equally matched."
+
+Darkness had fallen upon Rotterdam and the lights from the houses made
+yellow streaks in the water of the canal as the car, piloted by Robin,
+drove the party to Mary Trevert's hotel.
+
+They found the girl, pale and anxious, in the lounge.
+
+"Well, now," cried the doctor breezily, "and how are you feeling? Did
+you take my advice and have some tea?"
+
+"What has happened?" asked the girl; "I have been so anxious about you ..."
+
+Her words were addressed to the doctor, but she looked at Robin.
+
+"Mary," said Robin, "we are very near the truth now. But there is one
+thing you can tell us. It is very important. When you heard the shot in
+the library at Harkings, did you notice any other sound--before or
+after?"
+
+The girl paused to think.
+
+"There was a sort of sharp cry and a thud ..."
+
+"I know. But was there anything else? Do try and remember. It's so
+important!"
+
+The girl was silent for a moment. Then she said slowly:
+
+"Yes, there was, now I come to think of it. Just as I tried the door--it
+was locked, you know--there was a sort of hiss, harsh and rather loud,
+from the room ..."
+
+"A sort of hiss, eh? Something like a sneeze?"
+
+"Yes. Only louder and ... and ... harsher!"
+
+"Now, answer me carefully! Was this before or after the shot?"
+
+"Oh, before! Just as I was rattling the doorhandle. The shot broke in
+upon it...."
+
+Robin turned to Herr Schulz, who stood with a grave face by his side.
+
+"The silencer, you see, sir!" he said. Then to Mary he added: "Mary, we
+are going off now. But we will be back within the hour and...."
+
+"Oh, Robin," the girl broke in, "don't leave me alone! I don't feel safe
+in this place after this morning. I'd much rather come with you...."
+
+"Mary, it's quite impossible...." Robin began.
+
+But the girl had turned to a table and taken from it her hat and fur.
+
+"I don't care!" she exclaimed wilfully; "I'm coming anyhow. I refuse to
+be left behind!"
+
+She smiled at Herr Schulz as she spoke, and that gentleman's rather grim
+face relaxed as he looked at her.
+
+"I'm not sure I wouldn't say the same!" he remarked.
+
+The upshot of it was that, despite Robin's objections, Mary Trevert
+accompanied the party. She sat on the back seat, rather flushed and
+excited, between Herr Schulz and the doctor, while Robin took the wheel
+again. A few minutes' drive took them to the big hotel where Robin had
+booked a room. They all waited in the car whilst he went to the office.
+
+He was back in a minute, an open telegram in his hand.
+
+"I believe I've got in my pocket," he cried, "the actual weapon with
+which Hartley Parrish was killed!"
+
+And he read from the telegram:
+
+"Mastertons gunsmiths sold last July pair of Browning automatics
+identical with that found on Parrish to Jeekes who paid with Parrish's
+cheque."
+
+The message was signed "Manderton."
+
+At that moment a man wearing a black bowler hat and a heavy frieze
+overcoat came hurrying out of the hotel.
+
+"Mr. Greve!" he cried as Robin, who was back in the driving-seat, was
+releasing the brake. "Did you have the wire from the Yard saying I was
+coming?" he asked. "Probably I beat the telegraph, though. I came by
+air!"
+
+Then he tipped his hat respectfully at Herr Schulz.
+
+"This is Detective-Inspector Manderton, of Scotland Yard, sir," said
+Robin.
+
+The big man beamed a smile of friendly recognition.
+
+"Mr. Manderton and I are old friends," he said. "How are you,
+Manderton? I didn't expect you to recognize me in these duds ..."
+
+"I'd know you anywhere, sir," said the detective with unwonted
+cordiality.
+
+"Have you got your warrant, Manderton?" asked Herr Schulz.
+
+"Aye, I have, sir," replied the detective. "And I've a colleague from
+the Dutch police who's going along with me to effect the arrest ..."
+
+"Jeekes, eh?"
+
+"That's the party, sir, charged with wilful murder.... This is
+Commissary Boomjes, of the Rotterdam Criminal Investigation Department!"
+
+A tall man with a short black beard had approached the car. It was
+decided that the whole party should proceed to the Villa Bergendal
+immediately. Manderton sat next to Robin and the Dutch police officer
+perched himself on the footboard.
+
+"And where did you pick _him_ up, I'd like to know?" whispered Manderton
+in Robin's ear with a backward jerk of the head, as they glided through
+the brightly lit streets.
+
+"D'you mean the doctor?" asked Robin.
+
+"No, your other friend!"
+
+"Miss Trevert had a letter to him. Something in the Secret Service,
+isn't he?"
+
+Mr. Manderton snorted.
+
+"'Something in the Secret Service,'" he repeated disdainfully. "Well, I
+should say he was. If you want to know, Mr. Greve, he's the head!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+THE FIGURE IN THE DOORWAY
+
+
+The rain was coming down in torrents and the night was black as pitch
+when, leaving the lights of Rotterdam behind, the car swung out on to
+the main road leading to the Villa Bergendal. Thanks to a powerful
+headlight, Robin was able to get a good turn of speed out of her as soon
+as they were clear of the city. As they slowed down at the gate in the
+side road Herr Schulz tapped him on the shoulder.
+
+"Better leave the car here and put the lights out," he counselled. "And
+Miss Trevert should stay if the doctor here would remain to look after
+her ..."
+
+"You think there'll be a scrap?" whispered the doctor.
+
+"With a man like Marbran," returned the Chief, "you never know what may
+happen ..."
+
+"Zere will be no faight," commented the Dutch police officer in
+lugubrious accents, "my vriends, ve are too laite ..."
+
+But the Chief insisted that Mary should stay behind and the doctor
+agreed to act as her escort. Then in single file the party proceeded up
+the drive, Robin in front, then the Dutchman, after him the Chief, and
+Mr. Manderton in the rear.
+
+They walked on the grass edging the avenue. On the wet turf their feet
+made no sound. When they came in view of the house, they saw it was in
+darkness. No light shone in any window, and the only sound to be heard
+was the melancholy patter of the rain drops on the laurel bushes. When
+they saw the porch looking black before them, they left the grass and
+stepped gently across the drive, the gravel crunching softly beneath
+their feet. Robin led the way boldly under the porch and laid a hand on
+the doorknob. The door opened easily and the next moment the four men
+were in the hall.
+
+As Robin moved to the wall to find the electric light switch, a torch
+was silently thrust into his hand.
+
+"Better have this, sir," whispered Manderton. "I have my finger on the
+switch now, but we'd best wait to put the light up until we know where
+they are. Where do we go first?"
+
+"Into the sitting-room," Robin returned.
+
+Switching the torch on and off only as he required it, he crept silently
+over the heavy carpet to the door of the room in which that morning he
+had come upon Mary. Manderton remained at the switch in the hall whilst
+the other two men followed Robin through the door.
+
+The room was in darkness. It struck chill; for the fire had gone out.
+The beam of the torch flitting from wall to wall showed the room to be
+empty.
+
+"I don't believe there's a soul in the house," whispered the Chief to
+Robin.
+
+"Ve are too laite; I have said it!" muttered the Dutchman.
+
+"There is another room leading out of this," replied Robin, turning the
+torch on to the blue curtain covering the door leading into the office.
+"We'll have a look in there and then try upstairs. Manderton will give
+us warning if anybody comes down ..."
+
+So saying he drew the curtain aside and pushed open the door. Instantly
+a gush of cold air blew the curtain back in his face. Before he could
+disentangle himself the door slammed to with a crash that shook the
+house.
+
+"That's done it!" muttered the Chief.
+
+The three men stood and listened. They heard the dripping of the rain,
+the soughing of the wind, but no sound of human kind came to their ears.
+
+"The place is empty," whispered the Chief. "They've cleared ..."
+
+"It is too laite; I have said it." The Dutchman spoke in a hoarse bass.
+
+"We'll go in here, anyway," answered Robin, lifting up the curtain
+again. "They may have heard us and be hiding ..."
+
+He opened the door, steadying it with his foot. The curtain flapped
+wildly round them as they crossed the threshold. The broad white beam of
+the electric torch swung from window to desk, from desk to safe.
+
+"The door over there is open," exclaimed the Chief; "that's the way
+they've gone."
+
+Suddenly he clutched Robin's arm.
+
+"Steady," he whispered, "look there ... in the doorway ... there's
+somebody moving ... quick, the torch!"
+
+The light flashed across the room, blazed for an instant on a
+window-pane, then picked out a man's form swaying in the doorway. He had
+his back to the room and was rocking gently to and fro with the wind
+which they felt cold on their faces.
+
+"It's only a coat and trousers hanging in the door ..." began Robin.
+
+Then, with a suddenness which pained the eyes, the room was flooded with
+light. The Dutch detective stepped from the electric light switch and
+moved to the open door.
+
+"Too laite!" he cried, shaking his head; "have I not tell you?"
+
+Suspended by a strip of coloured stuff, the body of Mr. Jeekes dangled
+from the cross-beam of the door. The corpse oscillated in the breeze,
+silhouetted against an oblong of black sky, turning this way and that,
+loose, unnatural, horrible, and, as the body, twisting gently, faced the
+room, it gave a glimpse of startling eyes, swollen, empurpled features,
+protruding tongue.
+
+Without the least trace of emotion the black-bearded detective picked up
+a rush-bottom chair and gathering up the corpse by its collar hoisted it
+up without an effort so that the feet rested on the chair. Then,
+producing a clasp-knife, he mounted the chair and, with a vigorous
+slash, cut the coloured strip which had been fastened to a staple
+projecting from the brickwork above the door on the outside of the
+house.
+
+He caught the body in his arms and laid it face upwards on the matting
+which covered the floor. He busied himself for an instant at the neck,
+then rose with a twisted strip of coloured material in his hand.
+
+"His braces," he remarked, "very common. The stool what he has stood
+upon and knocked avay, she lies outsaide! My vriends, ve are too laite!"
+
+The doctor, fetched in haste by Manderton, examined the body. The man
+had been dead, he said, for several hours. Mary remained in the hall
+with Manderton while Robin and the Dutch detective went over the house.
+There was no trace either of Marbran or of the chauffeur. In the two
+bedrooms which showed signs of occupation the beds had been made up, but
+the ward-robes were empty.
+
+"Marbran's made a bolt for it," said Robin, coming into the office where
+he had left the Chief, "and taken everything with him ..."
+
+"I gathered as much," answered that astute gentleman, pointing at the
+fireplace. A pile of charred paper filled the grate. "There's nothing
+here, and I think we can wipe Mr. Victor Marbran off the slate. I doubt
+if we shall see him again. At any rate we can leave him to the tender
+mercies of our black-bearded friend here. As for us, I don't really see
+that there is anything more to detain us here ..."
+
+"But," remarked Robin, looking at the still figure on the floor, the
+face now mercifully covered by the doctor's white handkerchief, "surely
+this is a confession of guilt. Has he left nothing behind in writing? No
+account of the crime?"
+
+"Not a thing," responded the Chief, "and I've been through every
+drawer. Even the safe is open ... and empty!"
+
+"But how does it happen then," asked Robin, "that Marbran has legged it
+while Jeekes here ..."
+
+"Marbran left him in the lurch," the Chief broke in decisively. "I think
+that's clear. While you were upstairs with our Dutch friend, I went
+through the dead man's pockets. He had no money, Greve, except a few
+coppers and a little Dutch change. He had not even got a return ticket
+to London. Which makes me think that Master Jeekes had left old England
+for good."
+
+"Another thing that puzzles me," remarked Robin, "is how Jeekes knew
+that Miss Trevert had a letter to you, sir? Or, for a matter of that,
+how he knew that she had gone to Rotterdam at all?"
+
+"That's not hard to answer," said Mr. Manderton, who had just entered
+the room. "On Sunday night Jeekes rang up Harkings from his club and
+asked to speak to Miss Trevert. Bude told him she had gone away. Jeekes
+then asked to speak to Sir Horace Trevert, who told him that his sister
+had gone to Rotterdam. Jeekes takes the first available train in the
+morning, recognizes Miss Trevert on the way across, and tags her to her
+hotel in Rotterdam. The next morning he follows her again, shadows her
+to Sir ... to this gentleman's rooms, and there, as we know, contrived
+by a trick to see to whom she had a letter."
+
+"But why did he not attempt to get the letter away from her as soon as
+she arrived? Miss Trevert never suspected Jeekes. She might have shown
+him the letter if he'd asked her for it ..."
+
+The detective shook his head sagely.
+
+"Jeekes was pretty 'cute," he said. "Before letting the girl know he was
+in Rotterdam, he wanted to find out what she wanted here and whom she
+knew. Remember, he had no means of knowing if the girl suspected him or
+not ..."
+
+"So he devised this trick of impersonating Mr. Schulz on the telephone,
+eh?"
+
+"Bah!" broke in the Chief; "I bet that was Marbran's idea. Look at
+Jeekes's face and tell me if you see in it any feature indicating the
+bold, ingenious will to try a bluff like that. I never knew this fellow
+here. But I know Marbran, a resolute, undaunted type. You can take it
+from me, Marbran directed--Jeekes merely carried out instructions. What
+do you say, Manderton?"
+
+But the detective had retired into his shell again.
+
+"If you will come to Harkings with me the day after to-morrow, sir, I
+shall hope to show you exactly how Mr. Parrish met his death ..."
+
+"No, no, Manderton," responded the Chief; "I can't leave here for a bit.
+There are bigger murderers than Jeekes at liberty in Holland to-day ..."
+
+The detective slapped his thigh.
+
+"I'd have laid a shade of odds," he cried merrily, "that you were
+watching the gentleman at Amerongen, sir ..."
+
+"Tut, tut, Manderton," said the Chief, raising his hand to silence the
+other; "you run on too fast, my friend! I wish," he went on, changing
+the subject, "I could be with you at Harkings to-morrow to witness your
+reconstruction of the crime, Manderton. You'll go, I suppose, Greve?"
+
+"I certainly shall," answered the barrister, "I have had some experience
+of criminals, but I must say I never saw one less endowed with criminal
+characteristics than little Jeekes. A strange character!..."
+
+The Chief laughed sardonically.
+
+"Anyway," he remarked, "he had a damn good notion of the end that
+befitted him ..."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a still, starry night. The Flushing boat stood out of harbour on
+a calm sea. The high arc lamps threw a blue gleam over the deserted
+moles and glinted in the oily swell lapping the quays. From the
+fast-receding quayside the rasping of a winch echoed noisily across the
+silent water. On the upper deck of the mail-boat Robin Greve and Mary
+Trevert stood side by side at the rail. They had the deck to themselves.
+Above their heads on the bridge the captain stood immobile, a square
+black figure, the helmsman at his elbow. Otherwise, between the stars
+and the sea, the man and the girl were alone.
+
+Thus they had stood ever since the mail-boat had cast off from the quay.
+Robin had made some banal attempt at conversation, urging (but without
+much sincerity) that, after her experiences of the day, the girl should
+go to her cabin and rest. But Mary Trevert had merely shaken her head
+impatiently, without speaking.
+
+Presently he put his arm through hers. He felt against his wrist the
+warm softness of her travelling-coat, and it seemed to him that, though
+the girl made no sign, some slight answering pressure met his touch. So
+they leaned upon the rail for a space watching the water fall hissing
+from the vessel's side as the steamer, jarring and quivering, met the
+long steady roll from the open sea.
+
+Then Mary Trevert spoke.
+
+"Robin," she said gently, "I owe you an apology ..."
+
+Robin Greve looked at her quickly. But Mary had her eyes fixed seaward
+in contemplation of a distant light that flared and died with persistent
+regularity.
+
+"My dear," he answered, "I've only myself to blame. When you told me you
+were going to marry Hartley Parrish, I should have known that you had
+your reasons and that those reasons were good. I should have held my
+tongue ..."
+
+This time the girl stole a glance at him. But now he was gazing away to
+the horizon where the light came and went.
+
+"All this misunderstanding between us," he went on, "came about because
+of what I said in the billiard-room that afternoon ..."
+
+The girl shook her head resolutely.
+
+"No," she answered, "it was my fault. I'm a proud devil, Robin, and what
+you said about Hartley and ... and ... other women, Robin, hurt and ...
+and made me angry. No, no, don't apologize again. You and I are old
+enough friends, my dear, to tell one another the truth. You made me
+angry because what you said was true. I _was_ selling myself, selling
+myself with my eyes open, too, and you've got a perfect right never to
+speak to me again ..."
+
+She did not finish the sentence but broke off. Her voice died away
+quaveringly. Robin took her hand in his.
+
+"Dear," he said, "don't cry! It's over and done with now ..."
+
+Mary shook herself with an angry gesture.
+
+"What's the good of telling me not to cry?" she protested tearfully;
+"I've disgraced myself in my own eyes as well as in yours. If you can't
+forget what I was ready to do, I never shall ..."
+
+Very gently the young man turned the girl towards him.
+
+"I'm not such a prig as all that," he said. "We all make mistakes. You
+know I understand the position you were in. Parrish is dead. I shall
+forget the rest ..."
+
+Slowly the girl withdrew her hands from his grasp.
+
+"Yes," she said wearily, "you will find it easy to forget!"
+
+She drew her fur closer about her neck and turned her back on the sea.
+
+"I must go down," she said. And waited for the man to stand aside. He
+did not move and their eyes met. Suddenly, like a child, she buried her
+face in her arm flung out across his chest. She began to sob bitterly.
+
+"That afternoon ... in the billiard-room ..." she sobbed, "you will
+forget ... that ... too ... I suppose ..."
+
+Robin took her face in his hands, a hot, tear-stained face, and detached
+it from the sheltering arm.
+
+"My dear," he said, "I shall have to try to forget it. But I know I
+shan't succeed. To the end of my life I shall remember the kiss you gave
+me. But we are farther apart than ever now!"
+
+There was a great sadness in his voice. It arrested the girl's attention
+as he dropped his hands and turned back to the rail.
+
+"Why?" she said in a low voice, without looking up.
+
+"Because," replied the young man steadily, "you're rich now, Mary ..."
+
+The girl looked up quickly.
+
+"Will men ever understand women?" she cried, a new note in her voice.
+She stepped forward and, putting her two hands on the young man's
+shoulders, swung him round to face her.
+
+"I'm as poor as ever I was," she said, "for Hartley Parrish's money is
+not for me ..."
+
+"Mary!" exclaimed the young man joyfully.
+
+"Robin Greve," cried the girl, "do you mean to tell me you'd stand there
+thinking I'd accept money made like that ..."
+
+But now she was in his arms. With a little fluttering sigh she yielded
+to his kiss.
+
+"Oh, the man on the bridge!..." she murmured with her woman's instinct
+for the conventions.
+
+"Come behind the boat, then!" commanded Robin.
+
+And in the shadow of a weather-stained davit he kissed her again.
+
+"So you'll wait for me, after all, Mary?"
+
+"No," retorted the girl firmly. "We'll read the Riot Act to Mother and
+you must marry me at once!"
+
+The wind blew cold from the North Sea. It rattled in the rigging,
+flapped the ensign standing out stiffly at the stern, and whirled the
+black smoke from the steamer's funnels out into a dark aerial wake as
+far as the eye could reach. With a gentle rhythmic motion the vessel
+rose and fell, while the stars began to pale and faint grey shadows
+appeared in the eastern sky. Still the man and the girl stood by the
+swaying lifeboat and talked the things that lovers say. Step by step
+they went over their thoughts for one another in each successive phase
+of the dark tragedy through which they had passed.
+
+"And that van der Spyck letter," asked Robin; "how did you get hold of
+it? I've been wanting to ask you that ever since this afternoon ..."
+
+"I found it in the library," replied the girl, "on the desk. It had got
+tucked away between two letter-trays--one fits into the other, you
+know."
+
+"I wondered how Jeekes had come to miss it," said Robin. "But when was
+this?" he added.
+
+"On Sunday afternoon."
+
+"But what were you doing in the library?"
+
+The girl became a little embarrassed.
+
+"I knew Mr. Manderton was suspicious of you. I heard him telephoning
+instructions to London to have you watched. So I thought I'd go to the
+library to see if I could find anything which would show what they had
+against you exactly. And I found this letter. Then I noticed some one
+hiding behind the curtains, and, as I had the letter in my hand, I hid
+it in my dress. When I discovered that Bruce Wright was after it too, I
+pretended I had found nothing ..."
+
+"But, darling, why?"
+
+"I wanted to make sure for myself why you had sent Bruce Wright, for I
+guessed he had come from you, to look for this letter. So I thought I'd
+go to Rotterdam to investigate ..."
+
+Robin laughed affectionately.
+
+"Surely it would have been simpler to have given the letter to the
+police ..."
+
+Mary gave him a look of indignant surprise.
+
+"But it might have incriminated you!" she exclaimed.
+
+At that Robin kissed her again.
+
+"Will men _ever_ understand women?" he asked, looking into her tranquil
+grey eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+AN INTERRUPTION FROM BEYOND
+
+
+Sudden frost had laid an icy finger on the gardens of Harkings. The
+smooth green lawns were all dappled with white and wore a pinched and
+chilly look save under the big and solemn firs where the ground, warmed
+by its canopy of branches and coverlet of cones, had thawed in dark
+patches. The gravel walks were firm and dry; and in the rosery the bare
+skeleton of the pergolas stood out in clear-cut silhouette against a
+white and woolly sky.
+
+Overnight the frost had come. It had taken even the birds by surprise.
+They hopped forlornly about the paths as though wondering where they
+would get their breakfast. Robin Greve, idly watching them from the
+library window, found himself contrasting the cheerful winter landscape
+with the depressing conditions of the previous day. In wind and rain the
+master of Harkings had been laid to rest in the quiet little churchyard
+of Stevenish. The ceremony had been arranged in haste, as soon as the
+coroner's jury had viewed the body. Robin Greve, that morning arrived
+from Rotterdam, Bude, and Mr. Bardy the solicitor, had been the only
+mourners. As Robin looked out upon the wintry scene, his mind reverted
+to the hurried funeral with its depressing accompaniment of gleaming
+umbrellas, mud from the freshly turned clay, and dripping trees.
+
+Beneath the window of the library, its shattered pane now replaced, a
+cluster of starlings whistled gaily, darting bright-eyed glances, full
+of anticipation, at the closed window.
+
+"_He_ used to give them crumbs every morning after breakfast," said
+Mary. "See, Robin, how they are looking up! It seems a shame to
+disappoint them...."
+
+As though relieved to be quit of his dark thoughts, Robin, with a glad
+smile, turned to the girl. Dipping his hand into his pocket, he produced
+a hunk of bread and put it in her hand.
+
+"You think of everything!" she said, smiling back at him prettily.
+
+He pushed up the window and she crumbled the bread for the birds. He
+rested one hand on her shoulder.
+
+"He thought of everything, too," was his comment, "even down to the
+birds. It's extraordinary! No detail was too small for him!..."
+
+"He _was_ remarkable, Robin," answered the girl soberly; "there was
+something magnetic about his personality that made people like him.
+Even now that he is dead, even in spite of what we know, I can feel his
+attraction still. And the whole house is impregnated with his
+personality. Particularly this room. Don't you feel it? I don't mind
+being here with you, Robin, but I shouldn't like to be here alone. I was
+dreadfully frightened on Sunday evening when I came here. And when I saw
+the curtains move ... oh! I thought my heart would stop beating! Dear,
+I'm glad we are giving this place up. I don't feel that I could ever be
+happy here ... even with you!"
+
+"Poor devil!" said Robin. And then again he said: "Poor devil!"
+
+"It was terrible ... to die like that!" replied Mary.
+
+"It was terrible for him to lose _you_!" answered the young man.
+
+She gave his hand a little, tender squeeze, but relinquished it quickly
+as the door opened.
+
+Mr. Manderton was there, broad-shouldered and burly. Behind came Dr.
+Romain with a purple nose and eyes watering with the cold, Horace
+Trevert in plain clothes, Mr. Bardy, the solicitor, plump, middle-aged,
+and prim, with a broad, smooth-shaven face and an eyeglass on a black
+silk riband. In the background loomed the large form of Inspector
+Humphries, ruddy of cheek as of hair. Lady Margaret did not appear.
+
+Mr. Manderton slapped his bowler hat briskly on a side table and with a
+little bow to Mary walked to the desk.
+
+"Now," said Mr. Manderton with a long, shrewd look that comprehended the
+company, individually and collectively, and the entire room, "if
+Inspector Humphries will kindly close the door, we will reconstruct the
+crime in the light of the evidence we have collected."
+
+He turned round to the desk and pulled back the chair ... Hartley
+Parrish's empty chair.
+
+"It is just on five o'clock on Saturday evening, November 27," he began,
+"and growing dark outside. Mr. Parrish is sitting here"--he tapped the
+chair--"with all the lights in the room turned off except this one on
+the desk."
+
+Here he put a large hand on the reading-lamp.
+
+"The assumption that Mr. Parrish spent the afternoon, as he had spent
+the morning, over papers in connection with the business of Hornaway's
+in which he was interested is not correct. Mr. Archer, one of Mr.
+Parrish's secretaries who brought down a number of papers and letters
+for Mr. Parrish to sign in the morning, states that as far as Hornaway's
+or any other office business was concerned, Mr. Parrish was through with
+it by lunch. This is corroborated by the fact that no business papers of
+this description, with the exception of one, which I am coming to
+directly, were found on the desk here after Mr. Parrish's death. Nor
+were there any traces of burnt paper in or about the fire. These two
+facts were established by my colleague, Inspector Humphries."
+
+At this everybody turned and looked at the Inspector, who blushed until
+the tint of his hair positively paled by comparison with that of his
+face.
+
+"What Mr. Archer _did_ leave with Mr. Parrish, however," Mr. Manderton
+resumed, looking round the group and emphasising the "did," "was his
+will and this letter ..."--he held up a typewritten sheet of slatey-blue
+paper--"which, a straightforward business communication in appearance,
+was in reality a threat against his life. It was with these two
+documents that Mr. Parrish spent the last few hours before he was found
+dead in this room. A few odd papers found lying on the desk have nothing
+to do with the case and may therefore be dismissed."
+
+Mr. Manderton paused and then, with the deliberation which distinguished
+his every movement, walked round the desk to the window.
+
+"The fire in this room," he said, turning and facing his audience, "was
+smoking. The butler will testify to this and state that Mr. Parrish
+complained about it to him with the result that the sweep was ordered
+for Monday morning. Owing to the smoke in the room Mr. Parrish opened
+the window. His finger-prints were on the inside of the window-frame and
+a small fragment of white paint was still adhering to one of his
+finger-nails.
+
+"The window, then, was open as it is now. Mr. Parrish sat at his desk,
+read through his will, and wrote a letter to Miss Trevert informing her
+that, under the will, she was left sole legatee. This letter, with the
+will, was found on the desk after Mr. Parrish's death. Presumably in
+view of the threat against his life contained in this letter,"--the
+detective held up the slatey-blue paper,--"Mr. Parrish had either in his
+pocket or, as I am more inclined to think, lying on the desk in front of
+him, his Browning automatic pistol. This pistol was fitted with a Maxim
+silencer, an invention for suppressing the report of a firearm, which
+was sent to Mr. Parrish by a friend in America some years ago and which
+he kept permanently attached to the weapon."
+
+Mr. Manderton came to an impressive full stop and glanced round his
+circle of listeners. He gave his explanations easily and fluently, but
+in a plain, matter-of-fact tone such as a police constable employs in
+the witness-box. He had marshalled his facts well, and his measured
+advance towards his _denouement_ was not without its effect on his
+audience. Dr. Romain, nursing his knee on a leather settee, Horace
+Trevert, a tall slim figure eagerly watching the detective from his
+perch on the arm of the Chesterfield, and Robin and Mary, standing, very
+close together, behind the empty chair at the desk--each and every one
+was listening with rapt attention. Inspector Humphries, propping his big
+bulk uneasily against the wall near the door, was the only one who
+appeared to be oblivious of the strain.
+
+The detective walked round the desk and seated himself in the chair.
+
+"Mr. Parrish is seated at the desk here," he resumed, "when his
+attention is directed to the window."
+
+And here Mr. Manderton raised his head and looked out towards the
+frost-strewn gardens.
+
+"Maybe he hears a step, more probably he sees a face staring at him out
+of the dark. Very much to his surprise he recognizes Jeekes, his
+principal private secretary--I say to his surprise because he must have
+believed Jeekes, who had the week-end free, to be in London. And at
+that, perhaps because he thinks he has made a mistake--in any case to
+make sure--he gets up...."
+
+The detective suited the action to the word. He pushed back the chair
+and rose to his feet. They saw he held a large automatic pistol in his
+hand.
+
+"He has had this threatening letter, remember, so he takes his pistol
+with him. And he reaches the window ..."
+
+The detective was at the window now, his back to the room.
+
+"He speaks to Jeekes, angrily, maybe--the butler heard the sound of loud
+voices--they have words. And then ..."
+
+There came a knock at the library door. It was not a loud knock. It was
+in reality scarcely more than a gentle tap. But it fell upon a silence
+of Manderton's own creating, a rapt silence following a pause which
+preceded the climax of his narrative. So the discreet knocking resounded
+loud and clear through the library.
+
+"Who is that? What is it?" rapped out Dr. Romain irritably.
+
+"Don't let any one disturb us, Inspector!" called out Horace Trevert to
+Inspector Humphries, who had opened the door.
+
+Bude's face appeared in the doorway. He had a short altercation with the
+Inspector, who resolutely interposed his massive form between the butler
+and the room.
+
+"What is it, Bude?" asked Robin, going to the door.
+
+"It's a letter for Miss Trevert, sir!" said Bude.
+
+"Well, leave it in the hall. Miss Trevert can't be disturbed at
+present ..."
+
+"But ... but, sir," the butler protested. Then Robin noticed that he was
+trembling with excitement and that his features were all distraught.
+
+"What's the matter with you, Bude?" Robin demanded.
+
+Humphries had stood on one side and Robin now faced the butler.
+
+"It's a letter from ... that Jeekes!" faltered Bude, holding out a
+salver. "I know his writing, sir!"
+
+"For Miss Trevert?"
+
+Robin gathered up the plain white envelope. It bore a Dutch stamp. The
+postmark was Rotterdam. He gave the letter to Mary. It was bulky and
+heavy.
+
+"For you," he said, and stood beside her while she broke the seal. By
+this they had all gathered round her.
+
+The envelope fluttered to the floor. Mary was unfolding a wad of sheets
+of writing-paper folded once across. She glanced at the topmost sheet,
+then handed the bundle to Robin.
+
+"It's a confession!" she said.
+
+From beyond the grave the little secretary had spoken and spoiled Mr.
+Manderton's _denouement_.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+THE DEATH OF HARTLEY PARRISH
+
+
+"For Miss Trevert."
+
+Thus, in Jeekes's round and flowing commercial hand, the document began:
+
+  Last Statement of Albert Edward Jeekes, made at
+  Rotterdam, this twenty-first Day of January, in the
+  Year of Our Lord One Thousand Nine Hundred
+  and...
+
+Mr. Bardy, the solicitor, to whom, by common consent, the reading of the
+confession had been entrusted, raised his eyebrows, thereby letting his
+eyeglass fall, and looked round at the company.
+
+"Pon my soul," he remarked, "for a man about to take his own life, our
+friend seems to have been the coolest customer imaginable. Look at it!
+Written in a firm hand and almost without an erasure. Very remarkable!
+Very remarkable, indeed!..."
+
+"Hm!" grunted Mr. Manderton, "not so uncommon as you suppose, Mr. Bardy,
+sir. Hendriks, the Palmers Green poisoner, typed out his confession on
+cream inlaid paper before dosing himself. But let's hear what the
+gentleman has to tell us...."
+
+This was the last digression. Thenceforth Mr. Bardy read out the
+confession to the end without interruption.
+
+  _For Miss Trevert_:
+
+  _Madam_,
+
+  I slew, but I am not a murderer: I Killed, but
+  without deliberation.
+
+  Victor Marbran has gone and left me to meet a
+  shameful death. But I cannot face the scaffold. As
+  men go, I do not believe I am a coward and I am not
+  afraid to die. But the inexorable deliberation of
+  justice appals me. When I have written what I have
+  to write, I shall be hangman to myself. My pistol
+  they have taken away.
+
+  Victor Marbran has abandoned me. He had prepared
+  everything for his flight. Even if the law can
+  indict him as the virtual murderer of Hartley Parrish,
+  the law will never lay hands on him. Victor Marbran
+  neglects no detail. He will never be caught. But from
+  the Great Unknown for which I shall presently set
+  out, I shall stretch forth my hand and see that, here
+  or there, he does not escape the punishment he merits
+  for bringing down shame and disgrace upon me.
+
+  Just now he bade me stay in the office and finish
+  burning the papers in his desk. He promised he would
+  take me with him to a secure hiding-place which he
+  had made ready for some such emergency as this. I believed
+  him and, unsuspecting, stayed. And now he
+  has slipped away. He is gone and the house is empty.
+  I cannot follow him even did I know where he has
+  gone. I have only a very little money left and I am
+  tired. Very tired. I feel I cannot support the hue-and-cry
+  they will raise. Everything is still about me.
+  The quiet of the country is very soothing. To die like
+  this, with darkness falling and no sound but the
+  rustling rain, is the better way ...
+
+  Hartley Parrish was the man behind the great
+  syndicate which systematically ran the British blockade
+  of Germany in the war. He financed Marbran and
+  the international riff-raff of profiteers with whom Marbran
+  worked. Parrish supplied the funds, often the
+  goods as well,--at any rate, until they tightened up
+  the blockade,--while Marbran and the rest of the
+  bunch in neutral countries did the trading with the
+  enemy.
+
+  Parrish was a deep one. I say nothing against him.
+  He was a kind employer to me and I played him false,
+  for which I have been bitterly punished. To have
+  swindled Victor Marbran--I count it as nothing
+  against him, for that heartless, cruel man is deserving
+  of no pity ...
+
+  Parrish was the heart and soul, brains and muscle
+  of the syndicate. He lurked far in the background.
+  Any and every trail which might possibly lead back
+  to him was carefully effaced. He was secure as long
+  as Marbran and one or two other big men in the business
+  kept faith with him. Now and then, when the
+  British Intelligence were too hot on the trail, Parrish
+  and Marbran would give away one of the small fry
+  belonging to the organization and thus stave off suspicion.
+  They could do this in complete safety, for so
+  perfect was their organization that the small fry only
+  knew the small fry in the shallows and never the big
+  fish in the deep ...
+
+  But Hartley Parrish was in Marbran's hands. They
+  stood or fell together. Parrish knew this. But he was
+  a born gambler and insanely self-confident. He took a
+  chance with Marbran. It cost him his life.
+
+  All payments were made to Parrish. He was treasurer
+  and banker of the syndicate. Money came in by
+  all sorts of devious routes, sometimes from as far
+  afield as South or Central America. Parrish distributed
+  the profits. Everything was in his hands.
+
+  By the time the armistice came, the game had got
+  too hot. All the big fish except Marbran had cleared
+  out with their pile. But Marbran, like Parrish, was
+  a gambler. He stuck it out and stayed on.
+
+  Parrish played fair until the war was over. The
+  armistice, of course, put an end to the business. But
+  some months after the armistice a sum of L150,000
+  was paid to Parrish through a Spanish bank in settlement,
+  Marbran told me, for petrol indirectly delivered
+  to the German Admiralty. Parrish pouched the
+  lot. Not a penny did Marbran get.
+
+  Parrish and Marbran were old friends. They were
+  young men together on the Rand gold-fields in the
+  early days. In fact, I believe they went out to South
+  Africa together as penniless London lads. But Marbran
+  hated Parrish, though Parrish had, I believe,
+  been his benefactor in many ways. Marbran was
+  fiercely envious of the other because he realized that,
+  starting with an equal chance, Parrish had left him
+  far behind. Everything that Parrish touched prospered,
+  while Marbran was in perpetual financial
+  straits. He was Parrish's equal in courage, but not in
+  judgment.
+
+  Parrish calculated that Marbran would not dare to
+  denounce him. He had always taken the lead in their
+  schemes and he affected to disregard Marbran altogether.
+  So he left the latter's letters unanswered and
+  laughed at his threats. He was quite sure that Marbran
+  would never risk losing his pile by giving Parrish
+  away, for they were, of course, both British subjects
+  and both in it together ...
+
+  Marbran always distrusted Parrish, and long before
+  the breach came, he picked on me to act the spy on my
+  employer. I, too, was born a gambler, but, like Marbran,
+  I lacked the lucky touch which made Parrish a
+  millionaire. Speculation proved my ruin. I have often
+  thanked my God on my bended knees--as I shall do
+  again to-night before I pass over--that my insane
+  folly has ruined no one but myself ...
+
+  Already, when Hartley Parrish engaged me, I was
+  up to the neck in speculation. Up to that time, however,
+  I had managed to keep my head above water,
+  but the large salary on which Parrish started me
+  dazzled me. I tried a flutter in oil on a much larger
+  scale than anything I had hitherto attempted, with the
+  result that one day I found myself with a debt of
+  nine hundred pounds to meet and no assets to meet
+  it with. And I was two hundred pounds in debt to
+  Hartley Parrish's petty cash account, which I kept.
+
+  It was Victor Marbran who came to my rescue.
+  Parrish had sent me over to Rotterdam to fetch some
+  papers from Marbran. At this time I knew nothing of
+  Parrish's blockade-running business. Parrish never
+  took me into his confidence about it and the whole of
+  the correspondence went direct to him through a number
+  of secret channels with which I only gradually
+  became acquainted behind his back.
+
+  I had met Marbran several times in London and
+  also at Rotterdam. It had struck me that he had
+  formed a liking for me. On this particular visit to
+  Rotterdam Marbran took me out to dinner and encouraged
+  me to speak about myself. He was very
+  sympathetic, and this, coupled with the wine I had
+  taken, led me to open my heart to him. Without giving
+  myself away, I let him understand that I was in
+  considerable financial difficulties, which I set down to
+  the high cost of living as the result of the war.
+
+  Without a word of warning Marbran pulled out
+  his cheque-book.
+
+  "How much do you want," he asked, "to put you
+  straight?"
+
+  Nine hundred pounds, I told him.
+
+  He wrote the cheque at once there at the table. He
+  would advance me the money, he said, and put me
+  down for shares in a business in which he was interested.
+  It was a safe thing and profits were very high.
+  I could repay him at my leisure.
+
+  In this way I became a shareholder in Parrish's
+  blockade-running syndicate. The return I was to
+  make was to spy on my employer and to report to
+  Marbran the letters which Parrish received and the
+  names of the people whom he interviewed.
+
+  Of course, Marbran did not propose this plan at
+  once. When I took leave of him that night, I remember,
+  I all but broke down at the thought of his
+  unsolicited generosity. I have had a hard life, Miss
+  Trevert, and his seeming kindness broke me all up.
+  But I might have known.
+
+  I cashed Marbran's cheque and put back the two
+  hundred pounds I had taken from the petty cash account.
+  But I went on speculating. You see, I did
+  not believe Marbran's story about the shares he said
+  he would put me down for. I thought it was a charitable
+  tale to spare my feelings. So I plunged once
+  more in the confident hope of recovering enough to
+  repay my debt to Marbran.
+
+  A month later Marbran sent me a cheque for one
+  hundred pounds. He said it was the balance of fifteen
+  hundred pounds due to me as profits on my shares
+  less the nine hundred pounds I owed him and five
+  hundred pounds for my shares. But my speculations
+  had by this time gone wrong again, and I was heartily
+  glad presently to receive a further cheque for two
+  hundred pounds from Marbran. From that time on I
+  got from Marbran sums varying between one hundred
+  and fifty pounds and five hundred pounds a month.
+
+  When Marbran made me his shameful offer, I rejected
+  it with indignation. But I was fast in the trap.
+  Marbran explained to me in great detail and with the
+  utmost candour the working of the Parrish syndicate.
+  He let me know very plainly that I was as deeply
+  implicated as Parrish and he. I was a shareholder;
+  I had received and was receiving my share of the
+  profits. In my distress and shame I threatened to
+  expose the pair of them. Had I known the source of
+  his money, I told him, I should never have accepted it.
+  At that Marbran laughed contemptuously.
+
+  "You tell that yarn to the police," he sneered,
+  "and hear what they say!"
+
+  And then I realized that I was in the net.
+
+  I make no excuses for myself. I shall make none
+  to the Great Judge before whom in a little while I
+  shall appear. I had not the moral force to resist Marbran.
+  I did his bidding: I continued to take his
+  money and I held my peace.
+
+  And then came the breach between Parrish and
+  Marbran. I was the cause of it. But for me, his
+  trusty spy, Marbran would have known nothing of
+  this payment of L150,000 which Parrish received
+  from Spain, and this tragedy would not have happened.
+  God forgive me ...
+
+  Marbran appealed to Parrish in vain. What he
+  wrote I never knew, for, shortly after, Parrish quietly
+  and without any explanation took the confidential
+  work out of my hands. I believe he suspected then
+  who Marbran's spy was. But he said nothing to me
+  of his suspicions at that time ...
+
+  Finally, Marbran came to London. It was on Tuesday
+  of last week. I had been up in Sheffield on business,
+  and on my return I found Marbran waiting for
+  me at my rooms.
+
+  He was like a man possessed. Never before have I
+  witnessed such an outburst of ungovernable rage. Parrish,
+  it appears, had declined to see him. He swore
+  that Parrish should not get the better of him if he had
+  to kill him first. I can see Marbran now as he sat on
+  my bed, his livid face distorted with fury.
+
+  "I'll give him a last chance," he cried, "and then,
+  by God, let our smart Alec look out!"
+
+  This sort of talk frightened me. I knew Marbran
+  meant mischief. He was a bad man to cross. I was desperately
+  afraid he would waylay Parrish and bring
+  down disaster on the three of us. I did my utmost to
+  put the idea of violence out of his mind. I begged
+  him to content himself with trying to frighten Parrish
+  into paying up before trying other means.
+
+  My suggestion seemed to awaken some old memory
+  in Marbran's mind.
+
+  "By Gad, Jeekes," he said, after a moment's
+  thought, "you've given me an idea. Parrish has a
+  yellow streak. He's scared of a gun. I saw it once,
+  years ago, in a roughhouse we got into at Krugersdorp
+  on the Rand. Damn it, I know how to bring the yellow
+  dog to heel, and I'll tell you how we'll do it ..."
+
+  He then unfolded his plan. He would send Parrish
+  a last demand for a settlement, threatening him with
+  death if he did not pay up. The warning would reach
+  Parrish on the following Saturday. Marbran would
+  contrive that he should receive it by the first post.
+  As soon as possible thereafter I was to go to Parrish
+  boldly and demand his answer.
+
+  "And you'll take a gun," Marbran said, peering
+  at me with his cunning little eyes, "and you'll show it.
+  And if at the sight of it you don't get the brass, then
+  I don't know my old pal, Mister Hartley Parrish,
+  Esquire!"
+
+  The proposal appalled me. I knew nothing of
+  Hartley Parrish's "yellow streak." I knew him only
+  as a hard and resolute man, swift in decision and ruthless
+  in action. Whatever happened, I argued, Parrish
+  would discharge me and there was every prospect of
+  his handing me over to the police as well.
+
+  Marbran was deaf to my reasoning. I had nothing
+  to fear, he protested. Parrish would collapse at the
+  first sign of force. And as for my losing my job, Marbran
+  would find me another and a better one in his
+  office at Rotterdam.
+
+  Still I held out. The chance of losing my position,
+  even of being sent to gaol, daunted me less, I think,
+  than the admission to Parrish of the blackly ungrateful
+  role I had played towards him. In the end I told
+  Marbran to do his dirty work himself.
+
+  But I spoke without conviction. I realized that Marbran
+  held me in a cleft stick and that he realized it,
+  too. He wasted no further time in argument. I knew
+  what I had to do, he said, and I would do it. Otherwise ...
+
+  He left me in an agony of mental stress. At that
+  time, I swear to Heaven, Miss Trevert, I was determined
+  to let Marbran do his worst rather than lend
+  myself to this odious blackmailing trick, my own
+  suggestion, as I bitterly remembered. But for the rest
+  of the week his parting threat rang in my ears. Unless
+  he heard by the following Sunday that I had
+  confronted Parrish and called his bluff, as he put it,
+  the British police should have word, not only of Parrish's
+  activities in trading with the enemy, but of
+  mine as well.
+
+  It was no idle threat. Parrish and Marbran had
+  put men away before. I could give you the names ...
+
+  It is quite dark now. It must be an hour since
+  Greve took you away. Soon he will be back with the
+  police to arrest me and I must have finished by then,
+  finished with the story, finished with life ...
+
+  Last week I worked at Parrish's city office. I told
+  you how he kept me off his confidential work. On
+  Saturday morning I went round to the house in St.
+  James's Square to see whether Marbran had really
+  sent his warning. Archer, my colleague, who was acting
+  as confidential secretary in my stead, was there.
+  Parrish was at Harkings, he told me. Archer was
+  going down by car that morning with his mail. It
+  included two "blue letters" which Archer would, according
+  to orders, hand to Parrish unopened.
+
+  These "blue letters," as we secretaries used to call
+  them, written on a striking bluish paper, were the
+  means by which all communications passed between
+  Parrish and Marbran on the syndicate's business.
+  They were drafted in conventional code and came to
+  Parrish from all parts of Europe and in all kinds of
+  ways. No one saw them except himself. By his strict
+  injunctions, they were to be opened only by himself
+  in person.
+
+  When Archer told me that two "blue letters" had
+  come, I knew that Marbran had kept his word. Though
+  my mind was not made up, instinct told me I was
+  going to play my part ...
+
+  I could not face the shame of exposure. I was
+  brought up in a decent English home. To stand in
+  the dock charged with prolonging the sufferings of
+  our soldiers and sailors in order to make money was
+  a prospect I could not even contemplate.
+
+  I thought it all out that Saturday morning as I
+  stood at the dressing-table in my bedroom by the open
+  drawer in which my automatic pistol lay. It was one
+  given me by Parrish some years before at a time
+  when he thought we might be going on a trip to
+  Rumania ...
+
+  I slipped the pistol into my pocket. I felt like a man
+  in a dream. I believe I went down to Harkings by
+  train, but I have no clear recollection of the journey.
+  I seemed to come to my senses only when I found
+  myself standing on the high bank of the rosery at
+  Harkings, looking down upon the library window.
+
+  Outside in the gardens it was nearly dark, but from
+  the window fell a stream of subdued light. The curtains
+  had not been drawn and the window was open
+  at the bottom. Parrish sat at the desk. Only the desk-lamp
+  was lit, so that his face was in shadow, but
+  his two hands, stretched out on the blotter in front
+  of him, lay in a pool of light, and I caught the gleam
+  of his gold signet ring.
+
+  He was not writing or working. He seemed to be
+  thinking. I watched him in a fascinated sort of way.
+  I had never seen him sit thus idly at his desk before ...
+
+  My brain worked quite lucidly now. As I looked
+  at him, I suddenly realised that I had a golden opportunity
+  for speaking to him unobserved. The gardens
+  were absolutely deserted: the library wing was very
+  still. If he were a man to be frightened into submission,
+  my sudden appearance, following upon the receipt
+  of the threatening letter, would be likely to help
+  in achieving this result.
+
+  I walked softly down the steps to the window. I
+  stood close up to the sill.
+
+  "Mr. Parrish," I said, "Victor Marbran has sent
+  me for his answer."
+
+  In a flash he was on his feet.
+
+  "Who's there?" he cried out in alarm.
+
+  His voice shook, and I could see his hand tremble
+  in the lamplight as he clutched at the desk. Then I
+  knew that he was badly frightened, and the discovery
+  gave me courage.
+
+  "Are you going to settle with Marbran or are you
+  not?" I said.
+
+  At that he peered forward. All of a sudden his
+  manner changed.
+
+  "What in hell does this mean, Jeekes?"
+
+  His voice quavered no longer. It was hard and
+  menacing.
+
+  But I had burnt my boats behind me now.
+
+  "It means," I answered boldly, "that you've got
+  to pay up. And you've got to pay up now!"
+
+  In a couple of quick strides he was round the desk
+  and coming at me as I stood with my chest pressing
+  against the window-sill. His hands were thrust in his
+  jacket pockets. His face was red with anger.
+
+  "You dawggorn dirty little rathole spy,"--he spat
+  the words at me in a low, threatening voice,--"I
+  guessed that lowdown skunk Marbran had been getting
+  at some of my people!"
+
+  His voice rose in a sudden gust of passion.
+
+  "You rotten little worm! You'd try and bounce
+  me, would you? You've come to the wrong shop for
+  that, Mr. Spying Jeekes ..."
+
+  His manner was incredibly insulting. So was the
+  utter contempt with which he looked at me. This
+  man, who had trembled with fear at the unknown, recovered
+  his self-control on finding that the menace
+  came from the menial, the hireling, he despised. I felt
+  the blood rush in a hot flood to my head. I lost all
+  self-control. I screamed aloud at him.
+
+  "There's no bounce about it this time! If you
+  don't pay up, you know what to expect!"
+
+  I had been holding my pistol out of his sight below
+  the window-ledge, but on this I swung it up and
+  levelled it at him.
+
+  He sprang back a pace, the colour fading on the
+  instant from his face, his mouth twisted awry in a
+  horrid paroxysm of fear. Even in that subdued light
+  I could see that his cheeks were as white as paper.
+
+  But then in a flash his right hand went up. I saw
+  the pistol he held, but before I could make a movement
+  there was a loud, raucous hiss of air and a
+  bullet whistled past my ear into the darkness of the
+  gardens. How he missed me at that range I don't
+  know, but, seeing me standing there, he came at me
+  again with the pistol in his hand ...
+
+  And then you, Miss Trevert, cried out, "Hartley,"
+  and rattled the handle of the door. Your cry merged
+  in a deafening report. Parrish, who was quite close
+  to me, and advancing, stopped short with a little
+  startled exclamation, his eyes reproachful, full of
+  surprise. He stood there and swayed, looking at me
+  all the time, then crashed backwards on the floor. And
+  I found myself staring at the smoking pistol in my
+  hand ...
+
+  It was your scream that brought me to my senses.
+  My mind cleared instantly. I knew I must act quickly.
+  The house would be alarmed directly, and before that
+  happened, I must be clear of the grounds. Yet I
+  knew that before I went I must do something to make
+  myself safe ...
+
+  I stood at the window staring down at the dead
+  man. His eyes were terrible. Like a suicide he looked,
+  I thought. And then it flashed across my mind that
+  only one shot had been heard and that our pistols
+  were identical and fired the same ammunition. The
+  silencer! The silencer could save me. With that
+  removed, the suicide theory might pass muster: at any
+  rate, it would delay other investigations and give me
+  a start ...
+
+  In a matter of a second or two I believe I thought
+  of everything. I did not overlook the danger of leaving
+  finger-prints or foot-marks about. I had not
+  taken off my gloves, and my boots were perfectly dry.
+  In climbing into the room I was most careful to see
+  that I did not mark the window-sill or scratch the
+  paintwork ...
+
+  I stood beside the body and I caught the dead man's
+  hand. It was fat and soft and still warm. The touch
+  of it made me reel with horror. I turned my face
+  away from his so as not to see his eyes again....
+
+  I got the silencer. Parrish had shown it to me and I
+  knew how to detach it....
+
+  I went back through the window as carefully as I
+  had come in. And I pushed the window down. Parrish
+  would have done that, I thought, if he had meant
+  to commit suicide. And then my nerve went. The window
+  frightened me. The blank glass with the silent
+  room beyond;--it reminded me of Parrish's sightless
+  gaze. I turned and ran....
+
+  I did not mean to kill. As there is a God in ...
+
+On that unfinished sentence the confession
+ended.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. Bardy put the bundle of manuscript down on the desk and, dropping
+his eyeglass from his eye, caught it deftly and began to polish it
+vigorously with his pocket handkerchief. As no one spoke, he said:
+
+"That's all. It ends there!"
+
+He looked round the circle of earnest faces. Then Horace Trevert
+crossed to the desk.
+
+"Robin," he said, and held out his hand, "I want to apologize. I ...
+we ... behaved very badly ..."
+
+Robin grasped the boy's hand.
+
+"Not a word about that, Horace, old boy," he said. "Besides, Mary is
+putting all that right, you know!"
+
+"She told me," replied Horace; "and, Robin, I'm tremendously glad!"
+
+"Mr. Greve!"
+
+Robin turned to find Mr. Manderton, large and impressive, at his elbow.
+
+"Might I have a word with you?"
+
+Robin followed the detective across the room to the window.
+
+Mr. Manderton seemed a trifle embarrassed.
+
+"Er--- Mr. Greve," he said, clearing his throat rather nervously, "I
+should like to--er,--offer you my congratulations on the remarkably
+accurate view you took of this case. I should have been able to prove to
+you, I believe, but for this curious interruption, that your view and
+mine practically coincided. It has been a pleasure to work with you,
+sir!"
+
+He cast a hasty glance over his shoulder at the other occupants of the
+room, who were gathered round the desk.
+
+"I'm not a society man, Mr. Greve," he added, "and I have a lot of work
+on my hands regarding the case. So I think I'll run off now ..."
+
+He broke off, gave Robin a large hand, and, looking neither to right nor
+to left, made a hurried exit from the room, taking Inspector Humphries
+with him.
+
+"Now that we are just among ourselves"--the solicitor was speaking--"I
+think I may seize the opportunity of saying a word about Mr. Parrish's
+will. Miss Trevert, as you know, is made principal legatee, but I
+understand from her that she does not propose to accept the inheritance.
+I will not comment on this decision of hers, which does her moral sense,
+at any rate, infinite credit, but I should observe that Mr. Parrish has
+left directions for the payment of an allowance--I may say, a most
+handsome allowance--to Lady Margaret Trevert during her ladyship's
+lifetime. This is a provision over which Miss Trevert's decision, of
+course, can have no influence. I would only remark that, according to
+Mr. Parrish's instructions, this allowance will be paid from the
+dividends on a percentage of his holdings in Hornaway's under the new
+scheme. I have not yet had an opportunity of looking further into Mr.
+Parrish's affairs in the light of the information which Mr. Greve
+obtained in Rotterdam, but I have reason to believe that he kept his
+interest in Hornaway's and his--ahem!--other activities entirely
+separate. If this can be definitely established to my own satisfaction
+and to yours, my dear Miss Trevert, I see no reason why you should not
+modify your decision at least in respect of Mr. Parrish's interest in
+Hornaway's."
+
+Mary Trevert looked at Robin and then at the solicitor.
+
+"No!" she said; "not a penny as far as I am concerned. With Mother the
+case is different. I told her last night of my decision in the matter.
+She disapproves of it. That is why she is not here to-day. But my mind
+is made up."
+
+Mr. Bardy adjusted his eyeglass in his eye and gazed at the girl. His
+face wore an expression of pain mingled with compassion.
+
+"I will see Lady Margaret after lunch," he said rather stiffly.
+
+Then the door opened and Bude appeared.
+
+"Luncheon is served, Miss!"
+
+He stood there, a portly, dignified figure in sober black, solemn of
+visage, sonorous of voice, a living example of the triumph of
+established tradition over the most savage buffetings of Fate. His
+enunciation was, if anything, more mellow, his demeanour more pontifical
+than of yore.
+
+Bude was once more in the service of a County Family.
+
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Yellow Streak, by Valentine Williams
+
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