CHAPTER III
She could not herself have been more conscious of that feeling of reliefthan he was of its coming. It spoke to him in the swift glance she gavetoward those distant, fog-blurred lights, in the white, drained face ofher, in the shrinking backward movement of her body when he spoke again;and something within him voiced "the exceeding bitter cry."
"I am not sure that I even hoped you would take the revelation in anyother way than this," he said. "A hawk--even a tamed one--must be athing of terror in the eyes of a dove. Still, I am not sorry that I havemade the confession, Miss Lorne. When the worst has been told, a burdenrolls away."
"Yes," she acquiesced faintly, finding her voice; but finding it only tolose it again. "But that you--that _you_...." And was faint and verystill again.
"Shall we go on? It isn't more than fifty paces to the road; and you mayrely upon finding a taxicab there. Would you like me to show you theway?"
"Yes, please. I--oh, don't think me unsympathetic, unkind, severe. It issuch a shock; it is all so horrible--I mean--that is.... Let me get usedto it. I shall never tell, of course--no, never! Now, please, may we notwalk faster? I am very, very late as it is; and they will be worrying athome."
They did walk faster, and in a minute more were at the common's end.Cleek stopped and again lifted his hat.
"We will part here, Miss Lorne," he said. "I won't force my company onyou any further. From here, you are quite beyond all danger, and I amsure you would rather I left you to find a taxi for yourself. Goodnight." He did not even offer to put out his hand. "May I say again,that I am not sorry I told you? Nor did I ever expect you would, take itother than like this. It is only natural. Try to forgive me; or, at theleast, believe that I have not tried to keep your friendship by a lie,or to atone in seeming only. Good night."
He gave her no chance to reply, no time to say one single word. Deepwounds require time in which to heal. He knew that he had wounded thewhite soul of her so that it was sick with uncertainty, faint withdread; and, putting on his hat, stepped sharply back and let the misttake him and hide him from her sight.
But, though she did not see, he was near her even then.
He knew when she walked out into the light-filled street; he knew whenshe found a taxicab; and he did not make an effort to go his way untilhe was sure that she was safely started upon hers. Then he screwed roundon his heel and went back into the mist and loneliness of the heath, andwalked, and walked, and walked. Afterward--long afterward: when thenight was getting old and the town was going to sleep, he, too, faredforth in quest of a taxi, and finding one went _his_ way as she had gonehers.
In the neighbourhood of Bond Street--now a place of darkness andslow-tramping policemen--he dismissed the taxi and continued the journeyalong Piccadilly afoot. It was close to one o'clock when he came atlength to Clarges Street and swung into it from the Piccadilly end, andmoved on in the direction of the house which sheltered him and hissecrets together. But, though he walked with apparent indifference, hiseye was ever on the lookout for some chance watcher in the windows ofthe other houses; for "Captain Horatio Burbage" was supposed, in theneighbourhood, to be a superannuated seaman who maintained a bachelorestablishment with the aid of an elderly housekeeper and a deaf-and-dumbmaid of all work.
But no one was on the watch to-night; and it was only when he came atlast to the pillared portico of his own residence that he found any signof life from one end of the street to the other. He did find it then,however; for the boy, Dollops, was sitting huddled up on the top stepwith the thick shadow of the portico making a safe screen for him.
He had made good use of the two half-crowns, for he had not onlyfeasted--and was feasting still: on a bag of winkles and a saveloy--butwas washed and brushed and had gone to the length of a shoe-shine and acollar.
"Been waitin' since eleven o'clock, sir," he said, getting up andpulling his forelock as Cleek appeared. "Didn't knock and arsk for noone, though--not me. Twigged as it would be you, sir, on account of yoursayin' to-night. I've read summink of the ways of 'tecs. Wot ho!"
"You seem a sharp little customer, at all events," said Cleek with acurious one-sided smile--a smile that was peculiar to him. "I somehowfancy that I've made a good investment, Dollops. Filled up, eh?"
"No, sir--never filled. Born 'ungry, I reckon. But filled as much as youcould fill me, bless your 'eart. I aren't never goin' to forget that,Gov'nor--no fear. An eater and a scrapper I am, sir; and I'll scrap for_you_, sir, while there's a bloomin' breff left in my blessed body!Gimme the tip wot kind of work I _can_ do for you, Gov'nor, will you? Iwant to get them two 'arf-crowns off my conscience as quick as I can."
Cleek looked at him and smiled again.
"Yes, I'm _sure_ I made a good bargain, Dollops," he said. "Come in."And in this way the attachment which existed between them ever afterwardhad its beginning.
He took the boy in and up to the little room on the second floor whichhe called his den; and, turning on the light, motioned him to a chair,laid aside his hat and gloves, and was just about to pull up a chair forhimself when he caught sight of an unstamped letter lying upon hiswriting-table.
"Sit down there and wait a moment until I read this, my lad," he said;and forthwith tore the letter open.
It was from Superintendent Narkom. He had known that from the first,however. No one but Narkom ever wrote him letters. This one wasexceedingly brief. It simply contained these two lines:
"My dear Cleek. The Three Jolly Fishermen, Richmond, at tea-timeto-morrow. An astonishing affair. Yours, M. N."
"Dollops, my lad, I think I'm going to make a man of you," he said as hetore the letter into a dozen pieces and tossed the fragments into awaste-basket. "At any rate, I'm going to have a try. Know anything aboutRichmond?"
"Yuss, sir."
"Good. Well, we'll have a half-hour's talk and then I'll find atemporary bed for you for the night, and to-morrow we'll take a pull onthe river at Richmond and see what we shall see."
The half-hour, however, developed into a full one; for it was after twoo'clock when the talk was finished and a bed improvised for the boy; butCleek, saying good night to him at last and going to his own bedroom,felt that it was a long, long way from being time wasted.
What Dollops thought is, perhaps, best told by the fact that he burstout crying when Cleek came in in the morning to ask how he had slept.
"Slept, Gov'nor!" he said. "Why, bless your 'eart, sir, I couldn't aslept better on a bed of roses, nor 'ad 'arf such comfort. Feel like Ineeded someone to lend me a biff on the coco, sir, to make sure as Iaren't a dreamin'--it's so wot a cove fancies 'Eaven to be like, sir."
And afterward, when the day was older, and they had gone to Richmond,and Cleek--in his boating flannels--was pulling him up the shining riverand talking to him again as he had talked last night, he felt that itwas even more like Heaven than ever.
It was after four--long after--when they finally separated and Cleek,leaving the boy in charge of the boat, stepped ashore in theneighbourhood of the inn of the Three Jolly Fishermen and went to keephis appointment with Narkom.
He found him enjoying tea at a little round table in the niche of a bigbay window in the small private parlour which lay immediately behind thebar-room.
"My dear chap, do forgive me for not waiting," said the superintendentcontritely, as Cleek came in, looking like a college-bred athlete in hisboating-flannels and his brim-tilted panama. "But the fact is you are alittle later than I anticipated; and I was simply famishing."
"Share the blame of my lateness with me, Mr. Narkom," said Cleek as hetossed aside his hat and threw the fag-end of his cigarette through theopen window. "You merely said 'tea-time,' not any particular hour; and Iimproved the opportunity to take another spin up the river and to talklike a Dutch uncle to a certain young man whom I shall introduce to yournotice in due time. It isn't often that duty calls me to a little Edenlike this. The air is like balm to-day; and the river--oh, the river isa sheer delight."
Narkom ran
g for a fresh pot of tea and a further supply of butteredtoast, and, when these were served, Cleek sat down and joined him.
"I dare say," said the superintendent, opening fire at once, "that youwonder what in the world induced me to bring you out here to meet me, mydear fellow, instead of following the usual course and calling atClarges Street? Well, the fact is, Cleek, that the gentleman with whom Iam now about to put you in touch lives in this vicinity, and is soplaced that he cannot get away without running the risk of having thestep he is taking discovered."
"Humph! He is closely spied upon, then?" commented Cleek. "The troublearises from someone or something in his own household?"
"No--in his father's. The 'trouble,' so far as I can gather, seems toemanate from his stepmother, a young and very beautiful woman, who wasborn on the island of Java, where the father of our client met andmarried her some two years ago, whither he had gone to probe into thetruth of the amazing statement that a runic stone had been unearthed inthat part of the globe."
"Ah, then you need not tell me the gentleman's name, Mr. Narkom,"interposed Cleek. "I remember perfectly well the stir which thatridiculous and unfounded statement created at the time. Despite the factthat scholars of all nations scoffed at the thing, and pointed out thatthe very term 'rune' is of Teutonic origin, one enthusiastic oldgentleman--Mr. Michael Bawdrey, a retired brewer, thirsting forsomething more enduring than malt to carry his name down theages--became fired with enthusiasm upon the subject, and set forth forJava 'hot foot,' as one might say. I remember that the papers made greatgame of him; but I heard, I fancy, that, in spite of all, he was a dear,lovable old chap, and not at all like the creature the cartoonistsportrayed him."
"What a memory you have, my dear Cleek. Yes, that is the party; and he_is_ a dear, lovable old chap at bottom. Collects old china, oldweapons, old armour, curiosities of all sorts--lots of 'em bogus, nodoubt; catch the charlatans among the dealers letting a chance like thatslip them--and is never so happy as when showing his 'collection' to hisfriends and being mistaken by the ignorant for a man of deep learning."
"A very human trait, Mr. Narkom. We all are anxious that the worldshould set the highest possible valuation upon us. It is only when weare underrated that we object. So this dear, deluded old gentleman,having failed to secure a 'rune' in Java, brought back something equallycryptic--a woman? Was the lady of his choice a native or merely aninhabitant of the island?"
"Merely an inhabitant, my dear fellow. As a matter of fact, she isEnglish. Her father, a doctor, long since deceased, took her out therein her childhood. She was none too well off, I believe; but that did notprevent her having many suitors, among whom was Mr. Bawdrey's own son,the gentleman who is anxious to have you take up this case."
"Oho!" said Cleek, with a strong, rising inflection. "So the lady was ofthe careful and calculating kind? She didn't care for youth and all therest of it when she could have papa and the money-chest without waiting.A common enough occurrence. Still, this does not make up an 'affair,'and especially an 'affair' which requires the assistance of a detective,and you spoke of 'a case.' What is the case, Mr. Narkom?"
"I will leave Mr. Philip Bawdrey himself to tell you that," said Narkom,as the door opened to admit a young man of about eight-and-twenty,clothed in tennis flannels, and looking very much perturbed, a handsome,fair-haired, fair-moustached young fellow, with frank, boyish eyes andthat unmistakable something which stamps the products of the 'Varsities."Come in, Mr. Bawdrey. You said we were not to wait tea, and you seethat we haven't. Let me have the pleasure of introducing Mr.--"
"Headland," put in Cleek adroitly, and with a look at Narkom as much asto say, "Don't give me away. I may not care to take the case when I hearit, so what's the use of letting everybody know who I am?" Then heswitched round in his chair, rose, and held out his hand. "Mr. GeorgeHeadland, of the Yard, Mr. Bawdrey. I don't trust Mr. Narkom'sproverbially tricky memory for names. He introduced me as Jones once,and I lost the opportunity of handling the case because the party inquestion couldn't believe that anybody named Jones would be likely toferret it out."
"Funny idea, that!" commented young Bawdrey, smiling, and accepting theproffered hand. "Rum lot of people you must run across in your line, Mr.Headland. Shouldn't take you for a detective myself, shouldn't even in aroom full of them. College man, aren't you? Thought so. Oxon or Cantab?"
"Cantab--Emmanuel."
"Oh, Lord! Never thought I'd ever live to appeal to an Emmanuel man todo anything brilliant. I'm an Oxon chap; Brasenose is my alma mater. Isay, Mr. Narkom, do give me a cup of tea, will you? I had to slip offwhile the others were at theirs, and I've run all the way. Thanks verymuch. Don't mind if I sit in that corner and draw the curtain a little,do you?" his frank, boyish face suddenly clouding. "I don't want to beseen by anybody passing. It's a horrible thing to feel that you arebeing spied upon, at every turn, Mr. Headland, and that want of cautionmay mean the death of the person you love best in all the world."
"Oh, it's that kind of case, is it?" queried Cleek, making room for himto pass round the table and sit in the corner, with his back to thewindow and the loosened folds of the chintz curtain keeping him in theshadow.
"Yes," answered young Bawdrey, with a half-repressed shudder and adeeper clouding of his rather pale face. "Sometimes I try to make myselfbelieve that it isn't, that it's all fancy, that she never could be soinhuman, and yet how else is it to be explained? You can't go behind theevidence; you can't make things different simply by saying that you willnot believe." He stirred his tea nervously, gulped down a couple ofmouthfuls of it, and then set the cup aside. "I can't enjoy anything; ittakes the savour out of everything when I think of it," he added, with anote of pathos in his voice. "My dad, my dear, bully old dad, the bestand dearest old boy in all the world! I suppose, Mr. Headland, that Mr.Narkom has told you something about the case?"
"A little--a very little indeed. I know that your father went to Java,and married a second wife there; and I know, too, that you yourself wererather taken with the lady at one time, and that she threw you over assoon as Mr. Bawdrey senior became a possibility."
"That's a mistake," he replied. "She never threw me over, Mr. Headland;she never had the chance. I found her out long before my father becameanything like what you might call a rival, found her out as a mercenary,designing woman, and broke from her voluntarily. I only wish that I hadknown that he had one serious thought regarding her. I could have warnedhim; I could have spoken then. But I never did find out until it was toolate. Trust her for that. She waited until I had gone up-country to lookafter some fine old porcelains and enamels that the governor had heardabout; then she hurried him off and tricked him into a hasty marriage.Of course, after that I couldn't speak--I wouldn't speak. She was myfather's wife, and he was so proud of her, so happy, dear old boy, thatI'd have been little better than a brute to say anything against her."
"What could you have said if you had spoken?"
"Oh, lots of things--the things that made me break away from her in thebeginning. She'd had more love affairs than one; her late father'smasquerading as a doctor for another. They had only used that as acloak. They had run a gambling-house on the sly--he as the card-sharper,she as the decoy. They had drained one poor fellow dry, and she hadthrown him over after leading him on to think that she cared for him andwas going to marry him. He blew out his brains in front of her, poorwretch. They say she never turned a hair. You wouldn't believe itpossible, if you saw her; she is so sweet and caressing, and so youngand beautiful, you'd almost believe her an angel. But there's Travers inthe background--always Travers."
"Travers! Who is he?"
"Oh, one of her old flames, the only one she ever really cared for, theysay. She was supposed to have broken with him out there in Java, becausethey were too poor to marry; and now he's come over to England, and he'sthere, in the house with the dear old dad and me, and they are as thickas thieves together. I've caught them whispering and prowling abouttogether, in the grounds and along the lane
s, after she has said 'Goodnight,' and gone to her room and is supposed to be in bed. There's ahouseful of her old friends three parts of the time. They come and theygo, but Travers never goes. I know why"--waxing suddenly excited,suddenly vehement--"yes! I know why. He's in the game with her!"
"Game! What game, Mr. Bawdrey? What is it that she is doing?"
"She's killing my old dad!" he answered, with a sort of sob in hisexcited voice. "She's murdering him by inches, that's what she's doing,and I want you to help me bring it home to her. God knows what it isshe's using or how she uses it; but you know what demons they are forsecret poisons, those Javanese, what means they have of killing peoplewithout a trace. And she was out there for years and years. So, too, wasTravers, the brute! They know all the secrets of those beastlybarbarians, and between them they're doing something to my old dad."
"How do you know that?"
"I don't know it--that's the worst of it. But I couldn't be surer of itif they took me into their secrets. But there's the evidence of hiscondition; there's the fact that it didn't begin until after Traverscame. Look here, Mr. Headland, you don't know my dad. He's got thequeerest notions sometimes. One of his fads is that it's unlucky to makea will. Well, if he dies without one, who will inherit his money, as Iam an only child?"
"Undoubtedly you and his widow."
"Exactly. And if I die at pretty nearly the same time--and they'll seeto that, never fear; it will be my turn the moment they are sure ofhim--she will inherit everything. Now, let me tell you what's happening.From being a strong, healthy man, my father has, since Travers'sarrival, begun to be attacked by a mysterious malady. He has periodicalfainting-fits, sometimes convulsions. He'll be feeling better for a dayor so; then, without a word of warning, whilst you're talking to him,he'll drop like a shot bird and go into the most horrible convulsions.The doctors can't stop it; they don't even know what it is. They onlyknow that he's fading away--turning from a strong, virile old man into athin, nervous, shivering wreck. But I know! I know! They're dosing himsomehow with some diabolical Javanese thing, those two. Andyesterday--God help me!--yesterday, I, too, dropped like a shot bird; I,too, had the convulsions and the weakness and the fainting-fit. My timehas begun also!"
"Bless my soul! what a diabolical thing!" put in Narkom agitatedly. "Nowonder you appealed to me!"
"No wonder!" Bawdrey replied. "I felt that it had gone as far as I daredto let it; that it was time to call in the police and to have helpbefore it was too late. That's the case, Mr. Headland. I want you tofind some way of getting at the truth, of looking into Travers'sluggage, into my stepmother's effects, and unearthing the horrible stuffwith which they are doing this thing; and perhaps, when that is known,some antidote may be found to save the dear old dad and restore him towhat he was. Can't you do this? For God's sake, say that you can."
"At all events, I can try, Mr. Bawdrey," responded Cleek.
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" said Bawdrey gratefully. "I don't care ahang what it costs, what your fees are, Mr. Headland. So long as you runthose two to earth, and get hold of the horrible stuff, whatever it is,that they are using, I'll pay any price in the world, and count it cheapas compared with the life of my dear old dad. When can you take hold ofthe case? Now?"
"I'm afraid not. Mysterious things like this require a little thinkingover. Suppose we say to-morrow noon? Will that do?"
"I suppose it must, although I should have liked to take you back withme. Every moment's precious at a time like this. But if it must bedelayed until to-morrow--well, it must, I suppose. But I'll take jollygood care that nobody gets a chance to come within touching distance ofthe pater--bless him!--until you do come, if I have to sit on the matbefore his door until morning. Here's the address on this card, Mr.Headland. When and how shall I expect to see you again? You'll use analias, of course?"
"Oh, certainly! Had you any old friend in your college days whom yourfather only knew by name and who is now too far off for the imposture tobe discovered?"
"Yes. Jim Rickaby. We were as inseparable as the Siamese twins in ourundergrad days. He's in Borneo now. Haven't heard from him in a dog'sage."
"Couldn't be better," said Cleek. "Then 'Jim Rickaby' let it be. You'llget a letter from him first thing in the morning saying that he's backin England, and about to run down and spend the week-end with you. Atnoon he will arrive, accompanied by his Borneo servant,named--er--Dollops. You can put the 'blackie' up in some quarter of thehouse where he can move about at will without disturbing any of your ownservants, and can get in and out at all hours; he will be useful, youknow, in prowling about the grounds at night and ascertaining if thelady really does go to bed when she retires to her room. As for 'JimRickaby' himself--well, you can pave the way for his operations byinforming your father, when you get the letter, that he has gone daft onthe subject of old china and curios and things of that sort, don't youknow."
"What a ripping idea!" commented young Bawdrey. "I twig. He'll getchummy with you, of course, and you can lead him on and adroitly 'pump'him regarding her, and where she keeps her keys and things like that.That's the idea, isn't it?"
"Something of that sort. I'll find out all about her, never fear," saidCleek in reply. Then they shook hands and parted, and it was not untilafter young Bawdry had gone that either he or Narkom recollected thatCleek had overlooked telling the young man that Headland was not hisname.
"Oh, well, it doesn't matter. Time enough to tell him that when it comesto making out the cheque," said Cleek, as the superintendent remarkedupon the circumstance. Then he pushed back his chair and walked over tothe window, and stood looking silently out upon the flowing river.Narkom did not disturb his reflections. He knew from past experience, aswell as from the manner in which he took his lower lip between his teethand drummed with his finger-tips upon the window-ledge, that some idearelative to the working out of the case had taken shape within his mind,and so, with the utmost discretion, went on with his tea and refrainedfrom speaking. Suddenly Cleek turned. "Mr. Narkom, do me a favour, willyou? Look me up a copy of Holman's 'Diseases of the Kidneys' when you goback to town. I'll send Dollops round to the Yard to-night to get it."
"Right you are," said Narkom, taking out his pocket-book and making anote of it. "But, I say, look here, my dear fellow, you can't possiblybelieve that it's anything of that sort--anything natural, I mean--inthe face of what we've heard?"
"No, I don't. I think it's something confoundedly unnatural, and thatthat poor old chap is being secretly and barbarously murdered. I thinkthat--and--I think, too--" His voice trailed off. He stood silent andpreoccupied for a moment, and then, putting his thoughts into words,without addressing them to anybody: "Ayupee!" he said reflectively;"Pohon-Upas, Antjar, Galanga root, Ginger and Black Pepper--that's theJavanese method of procedure, I believe. Ayupee!--yes, assuredly,Ayupee!"
"What the dickens are you talking about, Cleek? And what does all thatgibberish and that word 'Ayupee' mean?"
"Nothing--nothing. At least, just yet. I say, put on your hat, and let'sgo for a pull on the river, Mr. Narkom. I've had enough of mysteries forto-day and am spoiling for another hour in a boat."
Then he screwed round on his heel and walked out into the brilliantsummer sunshine.