The Hand in the Dark

  CHAPTER XVIII

  Colwyn was upstairs in his bedroom preparing for his return journey toLondon when a meek knock and an apologetic cough reached his ears. Heturned and saw Tufnell standing at the half-open door. The face of theold butler wore a look of mingled determination and nervousness--theexpression of a timid man who had braced himself to a bold course ofaction after much irresolute deliberation.

  "I beg your pardon, sir," he said, and his trepidation was apparent inhis voice. "But might I--that is to say, could you spare me a fewminutes' conversation?"

  "Certainly," replied the detective. "Come inside, Tufnell. What is it?"

  The butler entered the room and carefully closed the door behind him.

  "I am sorry to interrupt you, sir," he said. "But I have just heard MissHeredith give orders for your car to be got ready for your return toLondon, and I knew there was no time to be lost. It's about the--themurder, sir." He brought out the last words with an effort.

  "Go on," said Colwyn, wondering what further surprise was in store forhim.

  "It's about something that happened on that night. I wanted to tell youbefore, but I didn't like to. After the murder was discovered I was sentover to the village to fetch the police and the doctor, and while I washurrying through the woods near the moat-house I thought I saw a mancrouching behind one of the trees near the carriage drive. He seemed tobe looking towards me. When I looked again he was gone."

  "And what did you do?"

  "I called out, but received no answer, so I hurried on."

  Colwyn scrutinized the butler with a thoughtful penetrating glance. Thebutler bore the look with the meek air of a domestic animal who knowsthat he is being appraised.

  "Am I the first person to whom you have told this story?" the detectiveasked after a pause.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Why did you not inform the police officers when they were investigatingthe case?"

  "For several reasons, sir. It seemed to me, when I came to think itover, that it must have been my fancy, and then it passed out of my mindin the worry and excitement of the house. Then, when I did think of itagain, I didn't like to mention it to Superintendent Merrington, becausehe was such a bullying sort of gentleman that I felt quite nervous ofhim. Really, for a gentleman who has travelled with Royal Highnesses, asI've heard tell, and might be supposed to know how gentlemen behave, theway he treated the servants while he was here was almost too much forflesh and blood to bear." The butler's withered cheeks flushed faintlyat the recollection. "I couldn't bring myself to tell him, sir."

  Colwyn smiled slightly. He was not unacquainted with Merrington'smethods of cross-examination.

  "You could have spoken to Detective Caldew, the other officer engaged inthe case," he said.

  "Young Tom Caldew!" exclaimed the butler, in manifest surprise.

  "You know him then?"

  "I know him, but I cannot say I know any good of him," rejoined thebutler severely. "Young Tom Caldew was born and bred in this village,and an idle young vagabond he was. Many a time have I dusted his jacketfor stealing chestnuts in our park. The place was well rid of him, Itake it, when he ran away to London and joined the police force. No,sir, I really couldn't see myself confiding in young Tom Caldew."

  "And why have you confided in me now?"

  "Well, sir, it was the arrest of the young woman that set me thinking,and caused me to wonder whether I'd done right in keeping this back.What I thought I saw that night may have been merely fancy on my part,but it took on an added importance in my mind when Miss Rath wasarrested for murdering Mrs. Heredith. It seemed to me as though I mightbe doing some sort of injustice to her by not telling about it, and Iwouldn't like to have that on my conscience after the way things turnedout. But I thought it was too late to say anything after they hadarrested Miss Rath and taken her away. Then Mr. Philip got better fromhis illness and went to London to fetch you. The same evening I heardMiss Heredith and Mr. Musard talking at the dinner table about themurder, and I gathered from what they said that Mr. Philip thought thedetectives had made a mistake in arresting Miss Rath. Then I decided totell you when you arrived, but I couldn't summon up my courage to do sountil now," concluded the butler simply. "I hope I have done right,sir."

  "You have certainly done right in not keeping the story to yourself anylonger," said Colwyn. "Before I leave here you had better show me theplace in the woods where you thought you saw this man."

  "I shall be happy to do so, sir. I should like to thank you forlistening to me. It is a weight off my mind."

  "I shall be going almost immediately," continued Colwyn. "I think thebest plan will be for you to meet me in the carriage drive, near thespot. Can you manage that?"

  "Quite easily, sir."

  "Excellent. And now, as you go downstairs, I should be glad if you wouldtell Mr. Musard that I should like to see him in my room before I go."

  "Very well, sir. Afterwards you will find me waiting at the bend of thecarriage drive where it winds round the lake."

  Colwyn nodded his comprehension, and Tufnell left the room with arelieved countenance. A few moments later there was another knock at thedoor. In response to Colwyn's invitation the door opened, and Musardappeared.

  "Tufnell said you wished to see me," he said, with an inquiring glancefrom beneath his dark brows.

  "Yes. I should be glad if you would give me a description of the missingnecklace. It will be useful in tracing it."

  "It is not difficult to describe," replied Musard, seating himself onthe edge of the bed. "It consisted of a single row of pink pearls, noneof them very large. The biggest is about forty grains, and the othersbetween twenty and thirty. It has a diamond clasp, set in antique gold,which is the most valuable part of the necklace. Do you know anythingabout jewels?"

  "A little."

  "Then you are aware that blue and red diamonds are the most valuable ofstones. This diamond is a blue one--not very large, but a particularlyfine stone."

  "Of course the necklace is well-known to jewel experts?"

  "As well-known as any piece of jewellery in Europe. Some of the pearlsin it are hundreds of years old. It would be almost impossible for thethief to dispose of the necklace."

  "It might be taken to pieces," suggested Colwyn.

  "In order to hide its identity? Well, yes, but the selling value wouldbe greatly reduced. The pearls have been strung."

  "What about the diamond? Could not that be sold by the thief withoutrisk of discovery?"

  "Only by sending it to Amsterdam to get it cut into two or three smallerstones, so as to lessen the risk of detection. The Heredith blue diamondis known to many connoisseurs. It is cut in an unusual form--a kind ofirregular rosette, in order to display its fire and optical propertiesto the best advantage. If it were cut it would lose a great deal of itsvalue. The money value of one large diamond of first quality is verymuch greater than the same stone cut into three. But it would bedifficult to sell the diamond in its present form. The chances are thatit would be recognized in Hatton Garden--if it were offered for salethere."

  "But if the diamond fell into the hands of somebody with a knowledge ofprecious stones he might keep it close for a while and then dispose ofit abroad--in America, for instance," returned Colwyn. "That trick hasbeen performed with better-known stones than the Heredith diamond. Infact, it strikes me as possible to sell the whole necklace that way. Thedisposal of the necklace depends largely upon who stole it--upon whetherit has fallen into experienced or inexperienced hands. There are jeweldealers who ask no awkward questions if they can get things at their ownprice."

  "Quite so," assented Musard, casting a quick glance at his companion'sface. "It would be a risk, though--the thief might pick the wrong man. Ican give you the addresses of two or three men in Hatton Garden whoshould be able to tell you if the necklace has been offered there. Theyknow everything that is going on in the trade."

  "I shall be glad to have them."

  Musard scribbled several names and addresses on
a leaf of hispocket-book, tore it out, and handed it to the detective.

  "There is a curious coincidence about the loss of this, necklace," heremarked casually, as he rose to go. "It is another example of themisfortune which attaches to the possession of a blue diamond."

  "Are you thinking of the Hope blue diamond? That certainly has asinister history."

  "That is the most notorious instance. But all blue diamonds are unlucky.I could tell you some gruesome stories connected with them. The previouswearer of the Heredith necklace--Philip's mother--died in giving birthto him. Incidentally, there is a curious legend attached to themoat-house in the form of a curse laid on it by the original builder,who was burnt alive in the old house. He prophesied that as the house ofthe Herediths was founded in horror it should end in horror. These oldfamily curses sometimes come home to roost after a long lapse of time,though modern cynicism affects to sneer at such fancies. Of course,there may be nothing in it, but we have had more than enough horror inthe moat-house recently, and poor Mrs. Heredith had a blue diamond inher room when she was murdered. But I must not keep you any longer, Mr.Colwyn. If there has been any miscarriage of justice in this terriblecase I trust that you will be successful in bringing it to light."

  He lingered after shaking hands, as though he would have liked tocontinue the conversation. Apparently not finding sufficientencouragement in the detective's face to do so, he turned and left theroom, and Colwyn resumed his preparations for departure.

  When they were completed he, too, went downstairs, carrying his bag.Miss Heredith and Phil were waiting to bid farewell to him. As MissHeredith said good-bye, she looked into his face with the perplexedexpression of a simple soul seeking reassurance from a stronger mind inthe deep vortex of extraordinary events into which she had been plungedbeyond her depth. Phil looked white and ill, and the hand which he gaveinto the detective's cool firm grasp was hot and feverish. While hisaunt murmured those conventional phrases under which women seek to coverthe realities of life as they bedeck corpses with flowers, Phil stoodaside with the impatient air of one scornful of the futility of suchthings. As Miss Heredith ceased speaking he took a step forward, hisdark eyes fixed eagerly and searchingly on Colwyn.

  "You will lose no time?" he said. "You will find out everything?"

  "I have already promised you that I will continue my investigations,"replied Colwyn. The quiet sincerity of his words was the indication of amind which despised the weakness of mere verbal emphasis.

  "Lose no time. Spare no money," said Phil rapidly. His words andutterance contrasted forcibly with the stillness and composure of theman he was addressing. "Think what it means! Let me know everything thathappens. Send me telegrams. Follow this thing out night and day. Idepend on you--"

  "Phil, Phil!" remonstrated Miss Heredith. "Mr. Colwyn has alreadypromised to do all he can. You must be patient."

  "Patience! My God, don't talk to me of patience," retorted her nephewfiercely. "I shall have no patience nor peace till this thing issettled."

  Miss Heredith looked at him sadly. His breach of good manners inuttering an oath in her presence hurt her worse than a blow, but herheart sickened with the realization that it was but anothermanifestation of the complete change in him which had been brought aboutby his wife's murder. Colwyn brought the scene to a close.

  "Of course I shall communicate with you," he said to Phil, as he tookhis departure. Phil accompanied him to his car, and stood under theportico watching him as he drove away. Colwyn glanced back as he crossedthe moat-house bridge. The young man was still standing in the opendoorway, looking after him. The next moment the bend of the carriage wayhid him from view.

  Colwyn encountered Tufnell at the next bend of the drive, waiting forhim on the path under the trees which bordered the edge. The detectivepulled up his car and stepped out.

  "It was just off here, sir, that I thought I saw the figure that night,"said the butler.

  He plunged into a leafy avenue which led off the path at right angles,and followed it into the wood until he reached the mossy trunk of agreat oak, which flung a gnarled arm horizontally across the narrow walkas though barring further intrusion into its domain. Tufnell stopped,and turned to the detective.

  "It seemed to me as though a man was crouching just about here, sir," hesaid in a whisper, as if he feared that the intruder might still behiding there and overhear his words.

  Colwyn carefully examined the spot. The moss and grass where he stoodgrew fresh underfoot, with no marks to suggest that they had beentrodden on recently. But close by, behind the horizontal branch of thegreat oak, was a tangled patch of undergrowth and brambles, broken andpressed down in places, as though it had been entered by a human being.As Colwyn was looking at this place, his eye was attracted by a yellowspeck in the background of green. It was a tiny fragment of khaki,caught on one of the bramble bushes.