The Riddle of the Mysterious Light

  CHAPTER XXVII

  THE RUSE OF THE SPRAINED WRIST

  The body was that of a man in the very prime of life, and but for thestrangely set and rigid face might have been thought that of one asleep.

  Cleek examined it minutely, even pulling down the lips and raising theclosed eyelids. For a moment he stood looking down at the still figure,then he shut up his magnifying glass with a snap.

  "Lucky thing that doctor friend of yours was at hand," he said,irrelevantly. "Known him long, by the way?"

  "Well, no, not what you might call long," was the surprised reply. "Wecame over on board the same ship together a few months ago. He's aFrench-Canadian doctor, only on a visit, I believe. A charming man----"But his words apparently fell on deaf ears, for Cleek was again bendingover the body, and before either of the men could save him his foot hadcaught on something and he measured his length on the polished floor,his wrist doubled beneath him. He was on his feet, immediately, withNarkom's assistance, but he surveyed his wrist with a rueful smile.

  "It's a pity he isn't here now," he ejaculated. "I've done for my wristthis time--broken it, I think."

  The secretary uttered a little sound indicative of mild sympathy.

  "He'll turn up in a minute. I'll 'phone through to him. He is lodgingquite near." And turning, Mr. Belthouse ran to the office on the otherside of the hall.

  "Is it broken, Cleek?" asked Mr. Narkom, anxiously, as he looked intohis ally's face. A significant wink was the only response.

  "I'd like to see that doctor who calls curari poisoning heart disease,"he whispered. "Look." He turned and pulled down the collar of the deadman, showing a tiny red spot just under the chin, so small as to behardly noticeable.

  "Poisoned," he whispered, "but whether by our excellent secretary or thegood doctor remains to be seen."

  Two minutes later Mr. Belthouse rushed back into the room.

  "I got him," he announced, triumphantly, "and I've sent for thecaretaker and told her to bring some hot water and bandages. Nothinglike hot water for sprains."

  Cleek expressed himself in thorough agreement with this theory, andstood nursing his aching wrist until the caretaker herself entered withthe articles.

  She was a middle aged woman with a pale face and deft hands, and Cleekgladly submitted his wrist to her manipulations, wincing slightly as herfingers touched the strained tendons.

  His eyes were fixed on the ground, watching the drops of water splashingon to the polished floor that had brought him to grief.

  "Did you hear our prisoner last night, Mrs. Perry?" said Belthouse,genially. "One of the blessed British public got shut in and said shealmost knocked the place down trying to get help."

  Mrs. Perry looked up placidly.

  "The walls are very thick, sir, and we were tired out with packing, Iexpect. I certainly never heard a sound. There, sir, I think that'sright." She looked at Cleek.

  "Thank you, that will be all right now," he said, but without giving heranother glance.

  Mrs. Perry had left the room as silently as she entered it, when all atonce Cleek gave a little cry of delight.

  "Scotland!" he cried, his face lighting up with relief. "I've got it!"

  "What?" exclaimed the secretary. "A clue?"

  "No, no, the cure for my wrist," said Mr. Headland, fumbling in hispocket for his note-book, while Mr. Belthouse snorted indignantly."Fancy my forgetting that incomparable liniment. Mr. Narkom, go and getme a bottle, there's a good chap; here's the name. Shan't need yourprecious doctor now, Mr. Belthouse. You can call in as you pass,Narkom, and tell him so. What's his address, Mr. Belthouse?"

  "Oh, it doesn't matter. I'll ring him up," said that gentleman. "Butit's 716 Cromwell Road, I believe, if you want it."

  "Mustn't waste a doctor's valuable time," said Mr. Headland, and Mr.Narkom darted off with a detached leaf from the note-book, as if thevery life of his companion hung upon the desired compound. Left tohimself, Cleek turned to the secretary.

  "I'll have another look at that gallery of yours, Mr. Belthouse, andthen I think my part of the job is at an end."

  "And a good job, too," was the irritable response. "I tell you, I can'tafford to waste more time this morning, and if that's all you cando----"

  "One can't do more than one's best," was Mr. Headland's meek response,as with a queer little smile running up one side of his face he followedthe secretary out of the room, up the passages, and into the fatefulgallery.

  "Now, what's the next thing?" asked Mr. Belthouse.

  "I think," said Mr. Headland, scratching his head again, "I think it's acase of 'wait and see'."

  Without apparently noticing the word which slipped out from the chastelips of Mr. Belthouse, Cleek cocked his head on one side as if waitingfor some expected sound.

  He had not long to wait, for there came the distant sound of screamingand fighting. It came nearer and nearer, till at last, with a resoundingcrash, the picture over the panelled door came down with shattered glassand broken frame, the door swung open noiselessly and easily, and in theaperture stood the flushed and triumphant figure of Mr. Narkom.

  "Right was I, old chap?" said Cleek in sharp, concise tones, at thesound of which Mr. Belthouse started violently.

  "Right as a trivet. Just moving it into the cart. Petrie and Hammondhave got her----"

  This fact was now a self-evident one, as the stalwart officers justnamed appeared in the doorway, between them a struggling woman, in whoseoaths in English and fluent French, disarranged hair and torn dress, Mr.Belthouse could hardly recognize the competent, "estimable" caretaker.But before he could speak a word there came a fresh interruption.

  "Hallo! What is this? They tell me you want me, Mr. Belthouse," said avoice from the main doorway of the gallery.

  "Doctor Montret!" said the secretary. "Come in, by all means. I cannotexplain what this means, but----"

  "Save yourself, Jules," shrieked the woman. "Quick, fly! I was not intime. It is Cleek, see, he is here! Fly, fly----"

  "So we have caught the pair of you, eh?" cried Cleek, who had silentlyworked his way round so that he stood between the sallow-faced,black-haired stranger, addressed as Doctor Montret, and the door.

  "Quick, boys. Mr. Narkom, help me here," and there was a quick struggle,then the sound of clicking handcuffs. Cleek stood over his captivetriumphantly, and gave a little laugh as he unrolled the wet cloths fromhis uninjured wrist.

  "So my little trick succeeded, eh, Jules Berjet? And you, too, MariePeret?"

  "But what dees it all mean?" wailed Mr. Belthouse. "What have they done,Mr. Headland, or Cleek? I don't know what to think."

  Cleek gave a short little laugh.

  "Done! They nearly did you, Mr. Belthouse. What they did was to stealthe Capitoline Venus tween them."

  "The Capit---- Oh, impossible!" exclaimed the secretary, his eyesstarting from his head.

  "Impossible, is it?" laughed Cleek. "I don't think so. Do you, MariePeret, when you've got such a clever cousin as Margot to pose as thestatue? Oh! that hits the mark, does it? And a deep box-feather bed toconceal it in, too. What's that, Mr. Belthouse, where is the statue?Why, I should say it is here. That's right, boys, bring her in. Got themoving men, too, did you? Good!"

  Two more policemen, aided by Thompson, brought in a familiar whitefigure, the sight of which caused Mr. Belthouse to utter cries ofdelight and thanksgiving. It was evident that his experiences in Americahad been a lesson, for his relief was only too real.

  "The Venus safe! Thank Heaven!" he repeated again and again.

  "Yes," said Cleek, plucking away several feathers which still clung toher marble features. "None the worse, and no one need be the wiser." Hisvoice grew very stern.

  "None the wiser!" echoed Mr. Belthouse. "But what about the police? Whatwill the charge be at the police court?"

  "Murder, Mr. Belthouse," was the answer, "the murder of poor Scott outthere. It was a neat trick to poison the man by means of an injection ofcurari and have the doctor accidenta
lly near at hand to certify to heartdisease. Bah! Take them away, men, and, Mr. Belthouse, give me a hand.We'll put the lady up on her pedestal again. Mr. Narkom, just look intothe large urn over there, will you?"

  Both gentlemen did as they were requested, and as Cleek and Mr.Belthouse stepped back from the pedestal, they watched Mr. Narkom as hestood with a white bundle from which powder dropped copiously.

  Cleek gave a little exclamation of delight. "Poor old Dollops' Venus,"he said, as he held up what was evidently a suit of white elastic tightssuch as are used on the stage.

  "The lady who wore these you very kindly let out first thing thismorning, Mr. Belthouse, and if ever Margot, Queen of the Apaches, and atone time one of the finest artists' models in Paris, enjoyed herself, itwas when she passed through your fingers so neatly.

  "What's that, Mr. Narkom? How did I guess? But I didn't guess. I wasshown it. Look at the tiny flakes of white, especially behind thepedestal and close to the big urn, where she stood well powdered readyto turn to marble if any one were heard approaching. The statue had beenlifted down and taken through that door to Marie Peret. The door screwedup, Mr. Belthouse? Nothing of the kind. The screw-heads are there, andglued down, but the screws themselves have been cut through by a finemetal saw, as I found when I came back again--for my pen.

  "Margot, I take it, in the tights, her face and hands whitened, took theplace of the statue for the last quarter of an hour before closing time.I suppose they were afraid to leave it until the night time for fearthey were heard by the guards and policemen. Probably poor Scott wasthinking of Dollops--he's a young friend of mine, Mr. Belthouse, whothought he saw an empty pedestal, and he was right! Well, Scott musthave come to examine the Capitoline Venus for himself, only to have itfling itself on him and do only too deadly execution with a poisonedneedle, all ready for just such an emergency. No, Mr. Belthouse, theApaches make burglary a fine art, I can tell you; they were prepared foreverything and everybody----"

  "Except Hamilton Cleek," said Mr. Belthouse, with a little smile. "Youcertainly have performed a miracle."

  Cleek smiled oddly.

  "I would like to have caught Margot," he said, musingly, "and it was aclever trick to divert suspicion right away from the caretaker by posingas an indignant sightseer, locked up all night, but there was too muchdeafness on the part of the others concerned."

  "Even then I don't know why you suspected Mrs. Perry," said Mr.Belthouse, as they retraced their steps to the entrance hall.

  Cleek laughed again.

  "I suspected everybody," he replied, "yourself included, until I sawMarie. Then if a straw will show you which way the wind blows, thepresence of many feathers clinging to the lady's skirts and the sight ofthat very deep French-made feather bed being moved out by twoFrench-looking moving men told me the rest.

  "Good-bye, Mr. Belthouse, and here's to our next meeting."

  He stepped into the waiting limousine and was whizzed away with Mr.Narkom beaming beside him.