The Riddle of the Purple Emperor
CHAPTER III
IN THE DARK
Cleek drove the car out into the lane with an impetus and speed thatwould have broken the heart of any police official.
"She is bound to sleep," muttered Cleek, as he bent his hand on thesteering wheel, for his heart was sick at the thought of Lady Margaret."She won't waken yet; not if I know anything of tired human nature. AndI could--could _not_ take Ailsa there!"
He found the village police-station, which was quite a simple matter. Toconvince Constable Roberts of the gravity of the situation was anotherthing altogether, and Cleek's story of the empty house and the murderedwoman was viewed with gravest suspicion.
"Lor bless yer, sir, but 'er ladyship was down 'ere only thisafternoon," said that gentleman with an air of dull finality, which madeCleek, his nerves on edge, long to shake some of the stupidself-satisfaction from his ponderous body.
"Quite possible, my friend," he said sharply, "but that doesn't preventher from having been murdered in the meantime, and by a woman at that,does it? And I want you to come _at once_."
At any moment Lady Margaret might wake and find herself a prisoner. Thenthe fat would be in the fire with a vengeance. There was not a moment tobe lost. Not a single moment, and apparently this fool of a policemanwho didn't know his profession and what it entailed any more than theveriest schoolboy----
"A woman, Lord's sake, what makes you say that, sir?" gasped theconstable, breaking in on his train of thought. "How does yer know?"
"Because I saw her," responded Cleek, irritably. "And if seeing isn'tbelieving then my name's not--Lieutenant Deland."
He did not add, however, that there was something about the clingingwhite figure that he had seen that had given him a sudden feeling thatit might be a _man_--or had that beard been simply a trick of hisimagination? It was hard to tell.
"She wore a white, clinging robe, at least it looked like that, and akind of turban. I had only a glimpse, but it was not the figure of aservant, of that I am sure," he went on after a pause. The constablestood gaping at him in open-mouthed amazement.
"Yes, you may well be sure of that," said he finally with a littlegrin. "There's precious few servants up in that house, I can tell you.Why, it would break the old lady's heart to think there was someone inthat house eating anything without paying for it first."
"Hmm. Close as that, eh? And do you mean to tell me that that MissCheyne lived in that deserted barn without another soul to keep hercompany?"
The constable nodded his head with evident relish. Giving informationwas a great deal more in his line than receiving it.
"I do that!" he said confidentially. "She used to have old Timms and hiswife, sort of combination gardener and 'ousekeeper as you might put it,but when they dies of rheumatism last year, one followin' on t'other,she just 'ad one of the village women occasionally. No, it certainlywouldn't be any servant.
"Talking of turbans, though, it might be one of them Indian chaps wotsjust come lately in the neighbourhood," the constable continued with asudden spark of actual intelligence--the first, by the way, he hadshown. "Can't abide niggers, myself, but there's no accounting fortastes, and----"
"What's that? Do you mean to tell me there are Hindoos here?" Cleek'svoice trailed away into silence, for fresh in his memory was therecollection of the scent he had noticed when he first entered thehouse. He remembered what it was now. It was jasmine, of course, andjasmine was the favourite scent of the Calcutta bazaars. So that was it,was it? A shrouded woman, eh? A shrouded fiddlesticks! If the Hindooswere in the neighbourhood they were there for no good purpose.
But the constable was getting garrulous.
"Lor' bless yer 'eart, sir, the place reeks of them niggers!" said hewith a little self-conscious laugh. "Come from Mr. Gunga Dall's place'tother side of the village, they do. Not but what he isn't a pleasantsort of gent, only as I says----"
"Yes, yes," said Cleek, "we'll hear all about that later. We can talk aswe go, constable, so long as we do go. I want you to see the murderedwoman and identify her, and if it _is_ Miss Cheyne----"
"You'll never make me believe anybody's killed Miss Cheyne not so longas I'm a-livin'," threw in the constable with a shake of his head. "Why,there ain't a valyble left in the place. But I'll come, o' course, sir.A matter o' dooty. So if you'll give me time to put on my coat and tellthe missus to keep my bit of supper warm I'll come along andhinvestigate."
Cleek made no further comment. He merely went back to the waitinglimousine and took his seat in it, full of a nervous impatience. Againand yet again his mind went back to that shadowy figure that had crossedthe lawn, and to the sweet, insidious scent of jasmine that had assailedhis nostrils. Hindoos were certainly at the bottom of this murder; andhe had left that helpless young girl at their mercy! What a fool he hadbeen! They would come back, that was certain, to finish their hellishwork of revenge--a revenge that had taken two hundred years toconsummate.
It was little wonder that his impatience had grown almost unbearablewhen Constable Roberts booted, belted, and helmetted in all the majestyof the law issued from his house and clambered into the car beside him.The constable's air was more civil and obsequious as he took in theluxury of his surroundings, and as they whisked onward into the darknesshe gave forth all the knowledge he possessed of the Cheyne family forCleek's especial benefit.
"A bit touched, if yer asks me, sir," said Mr. Roberts as he puffed awaycontentedly at the cigar Cleek had offered him. "Never the same, so I'veheard tell, since she was jilted thirty years ago by old SquireBrenton--Sir Edgar's father, that is--fine proper man he were, too, andwhen he found Miss Marion had a temper of her own, he up and clearedout. Next thing any one knows he comes back with his wife, a prettyslip of a thing, and our Sir Edgar a crowing baby. Miss Marion shutherself up then, and wouldn't 'ave a servant in the place except oldTimms and his wife, as I said just now. There's no one to go near her,and I don't think Mr. Gunga Dall would visit her again in a hurry afterthe way she treated him. Nice old scene he had with 'er."
"Hello, what's that?" said Cleek, suddenly. "A 'scene'? How andwhere?--or perhaps you don't know?"
"As it happens, I do," said Constable Roberts, pompously. "My young Jim,the little varmint, chose that day to play truant, and at the identicalmoment that the old girl--lady, I mean, beggin' yer pardon, sir--pitchedhim into the water----"
"_Into the water?_" echoed Cleek incredulously. "A lady pitched agentleman into the water, Constable----"
"Well, she did, anyway, and Jim said the way the gent cussed was areg'lar lesson to 'im."
"Fluent English, eh?" said Cleek.
"Re-markable sir, for a pore benighted 'eathen. It's wonderful, that'swot I calls it, but it all came of 'im a wanting to go a fishing----"
"Fishing--a Hindoo go fishing?" Cleek's brows came together in a heavyfrown and his eyes narrowed down to pin points at this remarkablestatement.
"Yes, sir, you know the grounds of Cheyne Court slope right down to theriver, and there is a fine bit of water there. According to my Jim, hewent to ask the old lady's permission first, but getting no answer toall his knocks at the front door, he takes kind of French leave, as yermight say, and goes down to the spot, and starts in to fish. Well, sir,as I takes it, the old lady saw 'im from a hupper window and down shecomes and abuses 'im like a pickpocket. Gunga he tried to pacify her,but she up and pushed him in, and as I said before, Jim's been a 'olyterror at language ever since! Not but it's any wonder, sir, coldwater's not up to much at the best of times, and when you're an Indianand chucked in, so to speak, it's enough to make anybody's gorge rise.But I don't say but what the gent isn't as nice a man as you'd want tomeet in a day's walk."
Cleek made no reply, but his brows twitched now and again and his mouthtightened, as he faced this startling problem. Here was a motive forrevenge sure enough and something more, too. Why on earth would aHindoo, presumably a Brahmin of high caste, to whom the taking of lifein any form, however lowly, is an unforgivable sin, why would he prete
ndto want to fish, unless it were to spy on the land, and he be on thetrack of that ill-fated jewel the "Purple Emperor"? That the Indianswould go so far as to kill Miss Cheyne Cleek did not believe, andyet--his mind harked back to that dark, bearded face in its whiteshroud.
"Hm," he said, casually. "Fine, bearded man I suppose?" They were fastapproaching the gates of Cheyne Court once more as he spoke, and theconstable swung round in his seat and looked at him.
"What, Gunga Dall, sir?" said he, a note of surprise in his tones. "Not'e sir, not a blessed 'air on his face. Comes down often to the villagefor a drink, too, regular pleasant gent as wouldn't 'urt a fly. No, sir,'e wouldn't do a baby no 'arm Mr. Gunga Dall wouldn't, an' if you're athinking that 'e's 'ad any part in it---- Oh, no, sir! I'd stake my lifeon it I would. Nearly there, ain't we? I pity that pore young thing fastasleep in the house with the corpse. Bit of a risk to leave 'er, sir,wasn't it?"
"I couldn't help myself," flung back Cleek irritably, for had not thesame thought been torturing him ever since he had sped down the drive?"I should have had to tell her if I woke her up, poor child, and she wastoo dead-beat to stir for the next couple of hours."
"Not too dead-beat not to get a light, anyway," said Constable Roberts,pointing in the direction of the house, and as Cleek raised his eyesfrom the steering wheel he saw a sight that caused the machine toswerve wildly in consequence. For the dark deserted house over which hehad wandered barely half an hour before, leaving it tenanted by asleeping girl and the body of the only relative she had possessed in theworld, was now gaily lit from top to bottom and from behind the blindsof one of the rooms could be seen the be-capped head of a maid.
"The devils have come back!" Cleek cried as he put on greater speed thanever. "There's not a moment to be lost. Lord send she's safe. Hurry,man, for God's sake, hurry!"
But there was no need to tell Constable Roberts to "hurry," for fullyalive now to the urgency of the case he was already panting his way upthe front steps.
"Locked," snapped Cleek as his fingers felt for the handle. "Get back tothe rear. You go to the right. I'll try the ball room window."
Switching on his heel, he was gone before the ponderous body ofConstable Roberts had recovered its breath. It was pitch dark now, andonce out of range of the brilliant motor-lamps, the house was shroudedin a mantle of blackness. But Cleek had his electric torch and as hesped swiftly on his course he swung its light against shrubs andwindows.
Turning the corner of the wall, he came within sight of the ball roomwindow once more and reached it in the twinkling of an eyelash. To hisdismay he found it not only locked, but what was even more terrifying byreason of its significance, shuttered and barred from within!
Cleek gave vent to a little cry indicative of mild despair and broughtout his torch, letting its tiny searchlight fall upon the smooth lawn infront of him. It could do little more than throw a weak circle of lighta few feet into the depths of the trees leaving all beyond and uponeither side doubly dark in contrast. But for this Cleek cared nothing,for even as the light streamed out and flung that circle into theimpinging mist, there moved across it the figure of a woman with a scarfof gold lace thrown over her head, from beneath which fell a shower ofdark, unbound hair. It effectively concealed her face, and almostcovered her shoulders wrapped in scarlet satin.
Satin in March! And a woman! She was the second woman he had seen crossthe lawn that night, the one an hour or so ago, in white, and now thisone in scarlet. The thing was so uncanny, so totally unexpected, thatCleek's brain positively reeled. In a flash she was gone.
He turned to follow in pursuit, but as he switched on his heel, it wasto come face to face with the panting, breathless figure of Mr. Roberts.
"Ev--every door--fastened, sir," he said, his breath coming in greatgasps. "What on earth's the matter, I dunno. But that's the gospeltruth, and I'll swear to it!"
"Nothing else to do but to attack the front then," said Cleek. "Come on,Constable. No time to be wasted."