The Riddle of the Purple Emperor

  CHAPTER II

  THE HOME-COMING

  A slight mist had fallen, and fields and lanes were gradually envelopingthemselves in a gray shroud which rose in thick vapour from the river.Also it was getting dark, yet to Cleek, whose whole heart and soul werebound up in the neighbourhood that formed the temporary home of AilsaLorne, the one woman in the world for him, the way was as clear asthough he held a map in his hand, and a torch whereby to see it with.

  He knew that the dark, tree-lined lane ran on for some thousand yards,with but two curves, until it reached the neighbouring parish where itdivided in a fork. Here one road led to the gateways of Cheyne Court andto the river-bank. The other proceeded to the rear of the village ofHampton. On the other side, draggled trees and matted gorse bushes werescattered over a piece of land which was used largely for the encampmentof tribes of wandering gipsies, travelling booths, and circuses. It wasas well the chosen pitch of the annual fair, an occasion that broughtthe rag-tail and riff-raff of London to over-flow the tiny hamlet, andgive the inhabitants food for gossip for the remainder of the year.

  Past these the limousine whizzed on like a thing possessed, taking thelast mile between the forked lane to the house at such a speed that itwould have overtaken or passed any other vehicle that might have beencoming to the hall. But the lane was deserted and they passed down italone. Another quarter of an hour took them past a big house standinghalf hidden in its own grounds. This was, as Cleek knew, the home ofLady Brenton, whom Ailsa had mentioned but a short time ago as being aneighbour of both Miss Cheyne and herself.

  Some five hundred feet more, and they came to a pair of very dilapidatediron gates, standing wide open, and covered with a heavy coating oforange rust. Creepers twisted and twined themselves about the rottingrungs, clothing them with a sombre dignity that shrouded much of theirevident neglect.

  Cleek drove up the grass-grown strip of pebbles that was the pathwayinto a tangled avenue of overhanging trees that looked grim andforbidding. It was no wonder that few travellers passing that wayguessed the existence of a house behind them.

  As for that house itself, to Cleek's eyes it showed neither light norsigns of habitation. No smoke issued from its chimney-pots, nor wasthere a sound. To all intents and purposes, it might have been an emptybuilding, and Cleek, who had hopped off the driver's seat, dived hastilyfor his powerful electric torch, preparatory to making a closerinvestigation.

  The mist which had been gradually rising now seemed to wrap them in animpenetrable veil. The moon's light had vanished and for a moment onlythe drip-drip of some distant water broke on his ears as he stood alert,watchful, and keen. And even as he stood came a sound that froze hisheart's blood, a sound terrifying in the broad open glory of daylight,but here, in the dark and chill, muffled by distance, yet none the lessunmistakable, a very terror indeed. And that sound was the sharp crackof a revolver!

  For a moment, as its full significance was borne in on his mind, Cleekstood rigid. Then as the door of the car flew open he turned to meetLady Margaret in the very act of jumping out.

  His first thought was as to whether she, too, had heard the ill-omenedsound, but it was evident that she had not realized, or perhaps evennoticed it. A frown furrowed her clear, child's brow and she clapped herhands together with a little gesture of impatience.

  "Oh, can't you make any one hear, Mr. Deland?" she cried despairingly."Please do make them hurry. I am so tired."

  Cleek started forward, and dashing up the two or three stone steps, sentpeal after peal of the jangling, old-fashioned bell reverberatingthrough the house. There came no answer.

  He bent down and peered through the letter-box, at the same timestriking a match and letting its feeble light struggle through theaperture. All within was dark, and yet Cleek's tense nerves gave alittle quivery jump. For a sound, slight though it was, came to histrained ears. It was the sound of a padded footstep, and to his nostrilswas borne a strange, sweet scent, familiar yet tantalizingly unknown.

  Again and again he rang the bell, and the echoes, pealing through thesilent house, came back to him maddeningly. At last Lady Margaret, whohad come up to him, laid a hand upon his shoulder and peered for amoment up into his face.

  "I know how to get in," she said. "Let us try that window. It is thedining room, and should be quite easy to manage. Please try and force itfor me, will you?"

  Speaking, she ran lightly along the stone terrace and pulled feebly atthe window, which was evidently locked. Cleek, following closely on herheels, felt a thrill of something akin to fear because of what thatsingle shot might mean.

  "Come," he said, suddenly switching round upon his heel. "Let's give thetask up for to-night, Lady Margaret. There is nothing to be gained here,and Miss Lorne will be able to put you up comfortably until morningcomes. Let's get away from here, I beg."

  She looked at him in wide-eyed surprise at the suggestion.

  "No, no, please. I would rather stay now I am here. Besides, it is myhome, and Aunt Marion will be expecting me."

  A few swift touches of his knife, and the antiquated lock gave way. Witha little sigh of relief she scrambled through the window and entered theroom with the air of one who has arrived home at last, and stood amoment looking quickly about her. Cleek followed closely upon her heels,his heart pumping furiously and his blood "up" for anything that mightensue.

  The interior of the room was very dark, but apparently the girl knew herway, for she plunged forward unhesitatingly, only turning to speak toCleek who hesitated in the background.

  "Strike a match, please, Mr. Deland," she commanded with a littleimperious gesture. "There's a lamp over here." Cleek, following thedirection of her hand, speedily espied one which was standing upon anadjacent table.

  With its friendly aid he was able to note the worn and threadbareappearance of everything, blurred and shadowy though it was. The onlystriking object was placed in the centre of a small stand and it was thepicture of the girl he had helped to bring to her natural home. Heturned instinctively as though to compare the likeness and saw that shehad thrown aside her hat and coat and sunk down in the old leatherchair, her blue eyes looking piteously at him as he came toward her.

  "That's right," he said with a quick smile. "If you will rest here, LadyMargaret, I will go on a voyage of discovery, and see what has become ofthe servants. Your aunt has probably gone to meet you. I shall not belong and I will light this other lamp for you so that you won't be quiteso shadowy. There, that's better. Don't be afraid, Lady Margaret." Witha friendly little nod of encouragement he disappeared through the doorand came out into a network of passages which were all wainscoted, whilethe floors were covered with dust, as if they had been unswept formonths. From room to room he went. Each one was more lonely, dark, anddeserted than the last, yet over all there hung an indefinable dreadthat made Cleek, hardy of courage as he was, wish that his faithfulhenchman Dollops, or his friend and ally Superintendent Narkom, werewithin reach. The last room of all at the end of a passage proved to bea small ballroom, a low-ceilinged spot littered with dust, its cornersthick with cobwebs. An odd chair or so stood against the wall, leavingthe wax-polished parquetted floor strangely bare. But it was not thisthat struck Cleek. It was a sight in the far corner that caused him tostop suddenly and suck in his breath, while the torch in his firmfingers trembled as though for a moment the grip was relaxed.

  For there, lying crumpled up in a lax, horrible heap, lay the figure ofa woman! Cleek's torch shed a disk of light upon the upturned face andhe sucked in his breath again, for the features were distorted andappalling, and death marked them with his unmistakable trace.

  For an instant Cleek hesitated, and his mind went back to that pistolshot such a short time ago. This poor huddled Thing with its staringeyes and gaping, twisted mouth was the answer to it. He walked rapidlytoward the body and saw that it was of an old woman of about seventy butwho had evidently kept up the fiction of youth as long as she could, forher cheeks were heavy with rouge, her hair was obviousl
y dyed to abright golden colour and her rich silk dress in the most juvenile offashions. As he noted the flashing rings on her fingers and thepriceless lace at her wrists, Cleek began to understand a few things,and among them the reason why Lady Margaret had arrived in England tofind no one waiting to welcome her at the station.

  For here, without a doubt, was the Honourable Miss Cheyne. Who hadmurdered her, and for what reason, remained to be discovered. Robberywas out of the question, for many hundreds of pounds worth of jewellerywas there on her hands in the shape of rings and bracelets. Revenge? Forwhat? By whom?

  Silently Cleek stood looking down on the body, his chin held between histhumb and forefinger, his brows furrowed. Here was a riddle indeed. Forone moment he stood stock-still, then with a sudden bound leaped over tothe window, which stood bare and curtainless, looked out on to thegrounds, and stood listening. For a sound, slight but none the lessdistinct, the tiny cracking of a twig, had arrested his attention. Whathe saw made his heart and pulses hammer furiously. For a moment theimpenetrable curtain of mist had lifted and the struggling moonbeamsflung a shadowy path of light across the lawn over which moved thefigure of a woman clad in white, clinging robes, her head swathed in awhite turban. A woman, at such a time, in this place! The thing was sostartling that Cleek's brain reeled. Involuntarily he made a movement asif to follow her, but even as he did so the figure turned, and Cleek'samazement deepened still further as he caught a glimpse of a dark faceand what might have been a dark beard. The curtain of mist had descendedagain, and the scene was blotted out before its full significance hadbeen realized.

  A woman and at such an hour in such a place! At any other time, underany other circumstances, Cleek might have thought it one of the maidsspeeding away to a meeting with some yokel lover, but under thesecircumstances, when there was no evidence of a servant's care in theplace, such an hypothesis was out of the question. Yet he was loath tobelieve a woman's hand could have committed such ruthless murder. Heswitched round now in sudden fear. At any moment Lady Margaret might betired of waiting and follow on his track. At all costs she must beprevented from doing that, for the shock would surely prove beyond herstrength.

  He crossed the room, and groped his way into the passage again. Therewas no key in the door, so it was impossible to lock away the secret ofthe ballroom, but he piled up two or three chairs in order to minimizethe risk.

  Hurriedly he traversed the corridors which lay between the back of thehouse and the dining room where he had left Lady Margaret. Pushing openthe door cautiously, he entered. To his unspeakable relief the girl hadcurled herself up in the big arm-chair and gone to sleep. A swift glanceshowed him that it would be useless to awaken her; she was plainlyexhausted by the events of the day, and she would sleep like this forhours. Though greatly disliking the idea, Cleek could think of nothingbetter than to make for the village, arouse the police, and take LadyMargaret down to Miss Lorne's cottage.

  Treading as lightly as a cat, Cleek tiptoed back into the hall, lockedthe door softly behind him, and sped away.

  He meant to pass Ailsa's cottage without breaking the journey, for hedreaded telling her to what a tragedy they had brought their youngcharge, but at the little gate a slender figure awaited him. Cleekhalted almost mechanically.

  "I didn't mean to wait up a minute, for I am so tired myself," saidAilsa, "but you see, I wanted to learn whether the old lady was veryangry."

  She looked up into Cleek's sombre face, and was struck by its pallor."Why, is there anything wrong?" she said quickly. "You look pale, dear,and upset. Tell me."

  "Yes, very wrong indeed, Ailsa mine," responded Cleek grimly. "MissCheyne has been murdered, and I am driving down to rouse the police."

  A cry of horror broke from Ailsa's parted lips. She caught Cleek's armin her two hands, and her eyes sought his face. "Lady Margaret--is shein the limousine with you?" she asked anxiously.

  Cleek twitched back his shoulders and shook his head.

  "No, dear. She is sound asleep in the dining room; locked in. I did notwant to rouse her until I had got the police in charge. When I have Iwill bring her back to you."

  "Let me come with you," said Ailsa swiftly.

  But this Cleek would not allow, for the tongues of village gossips arebitter things to fight.

  "No, dear, I cannot permit that," he responded, looking down into hersoft, misty eyes. "You understand, of course. And the child is perfectlysafe, and will not wake for some time. Time enough for your charitableinstincts to awaken when I bring her back to you. Now I must go."