The Riddle of the Mysterious Light

  CHAPTER XXIII

  A DIVIDED LEGACY

  Brought down to mere essentials, it differed very little from what Mr.Narkom had already told him. It was the tale of a man who had incurredthe wrath of native priests for what was in reality nothing less thanlooting their temple of its greatest treasure, a Fire Opal, which wasknown historically as the Eye of Ashtaroth, the Assyrian goddess ofbeauty. In the fight at the temple Sir Thomas had only saved his ownlife and those of his few followers by shooting the head priest with hisrevolver. Dying, the man had cursed him in one of the fearful curses ofthe East, and vowed that his spirit would follow the Sacred Eye to theuttermost ends of the earth, and that every human being that touched thestone should die "in the darkness that walketh by night, by fire thatknows no heat, and by a death that leaves no sign, but passes throughwalls of stone and bars of steel."

  "Splendid!" commented Cleek, with a little nod of approval. "By the way,Mr. Montelet, who told you the history of this ill-fated stone and itsfearful curse of a wandering spirit that slays in the dark?"

  "Why, my father himself, Mr. Headland. I remember when he brought thewretched stone back and fixed it up in a steel-lined case, of which thetop was glass. He had a kind of mimic altar made--you shall see it foryourself--on which the case was put. No one but my dear stepmother knewhow the stone was put into its pedestal. No one but my father had evertouched it, and after the priest died I don't believe even he did sowith his bare hands."

  "H'm. I see! And did Lady Montelet believe in the priest's curse ornot?"

  "Not at first--not, in fact, till after that poor maid of ours died lastyear. She accidentally let her broomhandle fall through the glass top ofthe case and whether she did touch the stone or not, or whether it was,as our doctor said, that she died of fright, her heart having been knownto be weak, one can't say. But she was found dead. Then, six monthslater, a young orphaned French girl from a Russian convent, CelestineMerode---- Why, what's the matter?"

  "Celestine! A convent!" Cleek ejaculated. "The two things are so utterlyincongruous!"

  "Why, did you know her?" asked the young man in natural bewilderment.

  "Know her! Yes, she was the sister of one of the worst scoundrels thatever formed a unit of the Apaches."

  "The Apaches!" gasped young Montelet. "Good heavens! But she came withthe very finest credentials, to act as companion for my stepmother. Shewas a dear girl, and it nearly broke my mother's heart when she, too,was found dead. Lady Montelet has a penchant for French companions, andher present one, Marie Vaudrot, who has been with her ever since, isalso French. She was vouched for by a Countess Somebody or other, andshe has been like a daughter to my mother.... Oh! it is too, too awful!"he burst out, fiercely. "First my dear, dear father----"

  "Good heavens!" burst out Mr. Narkom. "Did he too, die mysteriously? Iunderstood that he died from pneumonia."

  "So he did," was the low-toned reply; "but on the night of his death heeluded the nurse while she slept, and we--my mother and I--found himlying in front of the altar. The glass was removed, leaving the stoneexposed. He must have touched it--and he had died...." His voice trailedaway into silence, and a wave of emotion surged over him, choking him.Suddenly he swung round with an intense desperation in his face andvoice. "Help me, Mr. Headland! Let me avenge these deaths. The stone Icare nothing for. Thank Heaven it is gone, that no more murders may becommitted for its sake. Help me to avenge the woman who was more than amother to me--the best, the truest that ever lived! If I could have doneanything in this world to have saved her, but I couldn't, I couldn't!Nothing on earth could save her."

  Cleek twitched up an inquiring eyebrow.

  "Save her from what, Mr. Montelet? The effect of the curse?"

  "The curse!" he echoed in tones of unutterable contempt. "No, there'snothing supernatural about that! You know as well as I do that such athing is all rot. People can't be killed like that in a steel-linedroom, with a bolted door and barred windows, thirty feet above theground; nor do I believe in heart disease. No; there's a human agency atthe back of the mystery, and you yourself have given me a clue as to theperpetrators. It is that gang of thieves, the Apaches, who are the rootof the mystery, and Miss Marie Vaudrot will turn out to be a secondCelestine Merode. No wonder Laura distrusts her."

  "Laura! And, pray, who is that?" interposed Cleek, gazing into the youngman's excited face.

  A flush came over it. He shifted uneasily in his chair.

  "Miss Laura Gwynne, Mr. Headland--Lady Montelet's stepdaughter. She, youknow, was married twice, and Laura was brought up in the French conventof Notre Dame. She is a few years older than I am, though no one wouldbelieve it, and a noble girl.

  "Laura says Marie Vaudrot was outside the long gallery the night of themurder. One hates to bring suspicion against a woman, Mr. Headland, butwhen you consider how greatly that woman would, and does, benefit by ourdear mother's death, you must feel yourself that I--we--have stronggrounds for suspicion."

  "Certainly, I understand," said Cleek, promptly. "But in what way doesthis young lady benefit? She is no relation, is she?"

  "Not in the least; but while I was away this summer my mother grew tolove her as if she were her own daughter, and made a will leaving her, Ibelieve, nearly a third of Sir Thomas's fortune; and as most of thehistoric jewels were willed by him to the nation, including the stolenFire Opal, that diminished our share considerably, and you will admit itis not entirely just to either of us personally. There will be more thanenough for my modest needs; but Laura, Miss Gwynne, is angry becauseLady Montelet had always shown her the deepest affection and promisedthat the property should be equally divided between us. She is soself-sacrificing, however, that she has begged me to hush the matter up,so that no scandal shall be attached to the name. She is absolutely surethat Miss Marie Vaudrot is connected in some way with the murder.She----"

  Suddenly the door opened behind them, and framed in the open doorwaystood the slim figure of a sweet-faced girl. It did not need youngMontelet's worshipping if surprised cry of "Laura" nor Mr. Narkom'sgreeting to tell Cleek who this girl was. A moment or two later theyoung man had made that assurance doubly sure, and the detective andMiss Gwynne were shaking hands together.

  "I ought not to have intruded on you," said Miss Gwynne in a voicelow-pitched and musical, "but--but--I was passing, and I saw Hubert'sface through the window, and I guessed what he had done. He wishes tospare my feelings," her sweet voice broke in a sob, "but, of course, heis right. I must not let my feelings for one of my own sex blind me tomy duty both to the dead and to my country."

  Cleek raised an inquiring eyebrow at the latter part of this remark.

  "Yes," she continued, "if it was Sir Thomas's wish that the Governmentshould have the sacred stone, then surely it is only right that I shoulddo all that lies in my power to get it back."

  "Quite right," said Cleek, approvingly. "Now, what about this MarieVaudrot? I understand that she was found wandering down the corridornear the place of the murder. Is that so?"

  "Yes, alas, it is. Miss Vaudrot was very, very upset when motherannounced her intention of watching in the gallery, because of theridiculous story of the servants."

  "It was possibly Miss Vaudrot's own story, Laura," put in youngMontelet, excitedly.

  Miss Gwynne shook her head at him.

  "Mr. Headland must be left to draw his own conclusions, Hubert," shesaid, somewhat sharply. "After all, it may be someone else, and I cannotbear to accuse people behind their backs. Let us leave the matter tillMr. Headland has been up to the house. Don't you think so yourself, Mr.Headland?"

  "Right you are," said Cleek with a smile and a nod. "I quite appreciateyour feelings in the matter, Miss Gwynne. And, I say, Mr. Narkom,"looking at his watch, "if I'm going to get up the river to-day, and getback in town in time to dress for the theatre, don't yer know, I think Ihad better come right away and have a peep at this fascinating youngmurderess of yours. So if Miss Gwynne has no objection to my going onwith the case, we'd better be
moving."

  Miss Gwynne was all eagerness to "get on with the case," despite thereport of her desire for letting things go.

  "Oh, dear no, Mr. Headland. Please come right along now," she said,quickly. "It was only my foolish fear of scandal, and perhaps pity forone of whom my dear mother was so fond, that has caused me to raise evena slight objection. We are quite close, and in Mr. Narkom's car it wouldnot take ten minutes."

  "Good," said Cleek, stooping suddenly to retie his shoelace close besidethe chair where Mr. Montelet stood, waiting for his companions to move."Go on and tell Lennard to get his engine going, Mr. Narkom. I want toget up the river some time to-day, and the quicker I get through thisblessed report of mine the better."

  Two minutes later the limousine was racing away in the golden sunshine,carrying its passengers to the scene of the mysterious death; and Cleekwas again stooping to retie another shoelace, which apparently wasgiving him a lot of trouble.