CHAPTER XVIII
MURDER AT MANOR LODGE
It did not take the motor more than an hour to cover the differencebetween Portman Square and Manor Lodge, Grays, and in a very brief timeCleek in the character of George Headland had the satisfaction of seeingall the actors in this tragic drama. Narkom's assertion that ColonelParradine was "acting queerly" had led him to expect a broken-down,shifty-eyed half-pay officer, glad to be free from the iron hold of thedead man. He found instead a collected, typical Anglo-Indian, as keen onprobing the mystery as Cleek himself, and full of suggestions as topossible clues. It was only when there arose the subject of motor-cars,which he detested ordinarily, that his calm was broken.
Miss Parradine, however, appeared to be on the verge of hysterics, andthough in normal times she would have been a very handsome girl, now hereyes were red with weeping, her hair dishevelled, and had she been thedead man's widow she could not have evinced more grief. All this, inface of Mr. Narkom's statement that she loved another man, made hermanner over-done, and almost theatrical.
"I suppose, Miss Parradine," said Cleek in a casual, off-hand sort ofway, "you don't happen to know who will inherit Mr. Winton's fortune, orif he ever made a will? I am aware from what Mr. Narkom has told me thatthe collection of jewels will come to you, but that is not the wholeextent of his wealth. There is no one you know who might benefit by hisdeath?"
"No one who would be likely to injure him," said Miss Parradine. "Hisonly relative is a distant cousin, Richard Deverill, I believe, awealthy man in Buenos Ayres. I know, because Anthony told me when he hadour settlements drawn up that he would leave all the jewels to me, andin case anything happened to him, Mr. Weston, the solicitor, was to sendover to South America and find out if Deverill was still alive."
Cleek switched round quickly.
"Anything happen?" he inquired. "Did he expect anything to happen then?"
"Well," said Miss Parradine, "I think he was always nervous, especiallyabout the 'Rose of Fire.' And as that very day I had caught sight ofsome Burmese natives, of high caste, it is true, hanging about hisLondon hotel, the Savoy, where we had all been staying, I got nervous,too. That is why I came straight to him last night, to ask him to givethe 'Rose' up to me for safety. But he refused, and I was angry aboutthose horrible brooches. But if only I had known! No, Mr. Headland,there is no one else I know."
"Well, there's nothing wrong there," said Cleek. "Clearly a case oflocal robbery, I should say."
"Yes, that's what Robert said." She flushed as Mr. Headland twitched aninquiring eyebrow.
"Robert Bristol and I at one time were engaged," she said, huskily."This terrible tragedy sets me free. I confess that I regret parting inanger from Mr. Winton, but he could be very, very cruel. Robert said hecould save me--but oh----" She broke off as if frightened at what shehad said, and Cleek flashed a glance of deepest significance at Mr.Narkom.
"Robert could save her," could he! How, except by removing the obstaclewhich stood in their path of mutual happiness, that with the jewels lefther by one lover she might find happiness with the other? Was this theexplanation?
"Perhaps you would like to see Mr. Bristol," she said, hurriedly. "Iknow he is here, because he, too, is worried over it."
"I should indeed," said Cleek, and as she left the room it seemed to himthat Parradine cast an anxious glance after her.
"I cannot understand Bristol," he said, "since my daughter's engagementto Mr. Winton. He went away until yesterday, the day before thewedding, then arrived evidently in good time...." his voice trailed awayas the door opened to admit Robert Bristol, a typical gentleman-farmer,but now his face was pale and lined with anxiety, his whole appearanceas of one who has had little sleep, and as Cleek noticed his carelesslybrushed clothes and shaking hands, his eyes narrowed down. But when thefirst formalities were over, he spoke as he always did at such times, inthe heavy, befogged tones of utter incompetence.
"You are just the man I want to see, Mr. Bristol, before I go upstairs.I'm fairly puzzled, but I'd like to know any other facts you can giveme----"
"I can give you nothing, tell you nothing," declared the young man inshaking tones. "It has been such a colossal shock to me. I hated thedead man, Heaven knows, and could not bring myself to return tillafter--that is---- But I could not keep away, and when I learned whathad happened...."
"From whom did you hear the news, Mr. Bristol?" asked Cleek, sharply.
"Well, I think it was old Twells," he said. "He's a bit of a character,kind of naturalist and all that sort of thing," Bristol stammered. "Hesaid Wills, the butler, had told him on his way to Doctor Smith's, andas I passed him ... he told me.
"Passed him!" ejaculated Cleek. "Where were you; where had you beenduring the evening?"
"Most of the time, at the Electric Power House. I know one of theengineers there, and I just happened to be there, and so ... so...." Hisvoice trailed away as though he had given the most lucid ofexplanations.
"I see," said Cleek, pinching up his chin, as the thoughts raced throughhis mind. What connection had this explanation with the sudden failureof the electric light at the exact moment of the discovery of themurder, and how was Miss Parradine connected with it? Were the two inleague, after all? But he said no more, only switched round on his heeland allowed himself to be led upstairs to the gallery where the dead manstill lay.
It was a large square room, solidly built, without corners or panels.Along its dull, gray-papered walls hung large pictures of long dead andgone ancestors of the owner of Manor Lodge, himself a wanderer instrange lands. Small tables held the cases of curios collected byAnthony Winton, and but one big window gave it light. Clearly there wasno room for concealment of any unknown assailant, and when Cleek haddismissed the plain-clothes man on guard, and told Calvert, who hadquickly been sent for at Cleek's request, to open up the blind, heturned his attention to the dead man.
As Mr. Narkom had said, there was no sign of wound or mark on the body.
"Suffocated, it is clear enough," commented Cleek, having made minuteexamination. "But how?" He looked round. "You have no gas fittingshere?"
"None in the house, sir," said Calvert. "The whole place was lit byoil-lamps till my master took it and then the local company wired it forelectricity. All the rooms are not done yet, but this one and downstairswere finished first. The company also connected up the house telephoneto theirs, so as to oblige Mr. Winton while waiting for his ownconnection with the company. I suppose that was why that went wrong,too, when the electric light went off."
"What did he have to eat last?" said Cleek, suddenly, almost as if hehad not been listening. "Do you know?"
"Yes, I do," said Calvert. "He dined downstairs at 7 o'clock, as usual,and the rest of the dinner was finished in the servants' hall andnothing better could be desired. I came in at 9 o'clock to see whetherhe would have anything more, but Mr. Winton said no. And then MissParradine came."
"Yes, I know. And what about her visit?" said Cleek. "How long was shehere, do you remember?"
"Yes, sir. The hall clock was striking a quarter past nine when I lether in, and at a quarter to ten the telephone bell rang. Miss Parradineflung herself out of the gallery as I went to answer it, and the masterwas alive then. I heard his voice. Whether she went back while I wasanswering the 'phone, I don't know...."
"Went back?" said Cleek, excitedly. "What do you mean?"
"Well, sir," said Calvert, "as I said, just as she came out, the bellrang, and Miss Parradine said she would let herself out, and I turnedand ran to the instrument. When I returned--it was only a message fromthe tailor, and nothing important--she was gone. But she might have goneback to the master, and perhaps it was her dress fluttering that I heardinside the room. You see, sir, I knocked, and then I heard that kind ofstruggling and fluttering and ... I am almost sure, the sound of thewindow being shut. Then I forced the door, but the room was pitch dark.If any one slipped by me then I didn't know it, but when the lightsflashed on again I saw Mr. Winton crouch
ed up against the window, and hepointed to the skeleton, saying, 'Death's Head!' And that was the end."
The man gave a half-sob and his words rang true. If it were acting, itwas perfect of its kind. Cleek stood silent, his shoulders hunched up.
"Where was your master sitting before that, do you know?"
"When I went in about nine, as I said, he was sitting right under thelight. The window was wide open then. I noticed it particularly, and theRose of Fire, was in front of him. Very fond of that jewel he was, andused to say he'd give his life for it."
"Which he did," muttered Cleek, advancing to the table and standing justwhere the dead man had sat a few short hours before. Suddenly heswitched round.
"Mr. Winton was cleaning his jewels then, was he? He preferred Venetianpowder to jeweller's rouge, eh?"
"Cleaning, sir? No, indeed. He never touched them last night, that I'llswear."
Cleek bent down lower. "Ah, I see my mistake, a little cigarette ash,nothing of importance. Well, Calvert, I see there is nothing more to begained here. Tell Mr. Narkom I am ready for him, will you?"
"Certainly, sir," and Calvert turned as if glad to make his escape.
Had he waited another minute he would have seen Cleek pounce swiftly onthe little feathery yellow dust on the table, gather it up, and transferit to his note-book, and when Mr. Narkom had come upstairs, it was tofind his famous ally gazing thoughtfully out of the window, his faceserene, as if there were no such gruesome things as a murdered man and awithered skeleton behind him.
"Mr. Narkom," he said, when he had followed the Superintendentdownstairs and out into the country road, where the limousine waswaiting, and as he stepped into it, "I want you to wait here for me.I've got an idea that death takes strange shapes, and Mr. Wintonrecognized his foe rightly, though too late. I want to poke about formyself a little farther afield. Give me a couple of hours, and if I amright, my friend, the riddle is at an end. What's that? A clue? I wantto find out which sticks the best to metal, glue or soap." With this Mr.Narkom had to be content, and only Lennard, at the wheel of the car,heard the direction to drive to South Kensington Museum as hard as hecould go.