CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
WHEN TWO AND TWO MAKE FOUR
It would not be overstating the case if one were to say that Cleek'smind was absolutely in a whirl when he closed the door of thedining-room behind him and stood alone in the brilliantly lighted hall;for, added to the loathing contempt he felt for the young reprobate hehad just left, there was the knowledge that this new and unexpecteddevelopment threatened to destroy the whole fabric of his theories inalmost every particular.
Not for one moment, heretofore, had he looked upon young Raynor as otherthan a shallow, empty-headed wastrel; a mere cuckoo hatched in aneagle's nest; a thing to be scorned, not dreaded; a mere mischievousatom that hadn't the courage to be a bird of prey, nor blood enough inits veins to be dangerous. Now, however---- God! what a riddle life is!You never know!
The door that led out into the grounds of the Grange was but a rope'scast distant. He felt that he couldn't trust himself to go in and facethe ladies just yet a while; that he must think over this new andstaggering turn which events had taken: think over it for a time in thehush and darkness of the outer world; and, turning on his heel, wentswiftly to the door and let himself out.
By this time the night had closed in, the moon had risen, and thegardens were simply a shadowy place of dark and fragrant mystery, withhere and there a silver arabesque on the earth where the moonlightshafted through the boughs of trees, and here and there a streak ofyellower radiance where the windows of the house threw man-made lightacross the lawn and against the massed green of crowded leaves. Cleektook to the grass that his footsteps might not be heard, and there, inthe darkest shadow of all the darkened land, walked up and down, up anddown, with his lower lip pinched up between his thumb and forefinger,his brows knotted, and the elbow of one arm in the hand of the other: aquiet, slow-moving figure, as silent as the other soundless shades thatwere about it.
So that was how the cat jumped, was it? Directing suspicion--not openly,not with any positive hint of _what_, but with deadly seriousness,considering that last night a man had been mysteriously murdered and thepolice were out for the assassin--directing suspicion against his ownfather, and at such an appallingly significant time.
What a cur the fellow was! Even if his father could in any way have beenimplicated in the crime, by any means, upon any pretext, what a devil'sact it was to lead the law into the right channel. But when there wasnot one solitary circumstance that pointed, when it was merely to savehis own skin, merely to divert suspicion away from himself, what an actof unspeakable atrocity! Couldn't the fellow reason? Couldn't he seethat the very thing he was doing to mislead justice was the onecircumstance which directed its sword against himself? That the simplefact of his endeavouring to direct suspicion against one who was in noway implicated was absolute proof that he had a purpose in wishing it tobe misdirected. And if he _had_ a purpose in doing that, the inferencewas so obvious that a child might read between the lines.
Heigho! It was just another exemplification of the truth of the oldadage that "when the wine's in the wit's out." If he'd let that brandydecanter alone, if he hadn't fuddled his reason and clogged his wretchedbrain with alcohol, he must have seen what an ass thing he was doing,and what a fool his loosened tongue was making of him.
True, as yet there did not seem any just cause for connecting him withthe murder of De Louvisan, any reason why he should have killed the man;any single purpose he might serve, any solitary thing he might gain byslaying him; but still---- Oh, well, you never know how deep a well isuntil you have reached the bottom of it. The thing had every appearanceof being an Apache crime, and he was "in" with Margot--Margot, whoplayed for money and money alone; so if---- Good God! the little reptilehadn't let her lead him into _that_ folly, had he? Hadn't let her lurehim into taking the oath and enrolling himself a member of the Apache?
If he had been mad enough to do that, if that were the explanation, why,then, all the rest was possible. The law of the Apache is the law of thecommonwealth; and he would find that out, as Lovetski had found itout--too late. If St. Ulmer was in any way implicated, St. Ulmer'sfortune would be _one_ stake. And if this brainless weakling should fallheir to his father's money, ho! there was the other "stake"; there thepossible motive, there the first connecting link!
Was that Margot's little game? Was that the way the idiot had beentricked into becoming an accomplice? Just so! let's put the jumbled bitstogether and see if they fit; let's sum up two and two and learn if theyreally do make four.
First bit: De Louvisan with such a hold upon St. Ulmer that he cancompel his lordship to cancel his daughter's engagement and force her toaccept him as a fiance. Quite so! Second bit: De Louvisan, without anyrupture occurring between himself and St. Ulmer, suddenly murdered incold blood. And not only murdered, but spiked up to the wall after themanner of Lanisterre and other traitors to the Apache. A clear proofthat this De Louvisan himself was an Apache; and being a traitor to thecause---- Quite so! quite so! Prevented from marrying Lady Katharine,because that was not part of the agreement; because he was making aneffort to obtain for himself and his own personal use a fortune which itwas intended should come into the commonwealth. Hum-m-m! Those twopieces seem to fit together. Now for the next:
If St. Ulmer, over whom this De Louvisan undoubtedly had a hold of somesort, bought that fellow's silence by promising him his daughter for awife, then it is quite certain that he was acquiescing in histraitorship to the Apache and quite willing that the man should haveLady Katharine's dower for himself. That bit fits also. Now for another:if in doing that thing this De Louvisan merited the name of traitor, itmust have been that he came between the Apache and the possession of theSt. Ulmer fortune, and if the owner of that fortune had to make termssuch as he did with the man, the inference is as plain as the nose onyour face. In other words, St. Ulmer, too, had reason to dread theApache, and there must, therefore, be some connection between him andMargot. Two and two--and it makes four exactly! St. Ulmer, then, is thegame, St. Ulmer the pivot upon which the whole case revolves.
Where, then, does young Raynor come in? Hum-m-m! Ah! Of course, ofcourse. Very crafty, very crafty indeed. A beautiful woman could doanything in the world with such a worm as he. The stage-door Johnniewill be best caught by a chorus girl. Yes, yes, just so. Get one who isout of an engagement or in debt--anything that will make her willingand eager to accept a bribe. She will do the introducing; the rest youcan do yourself. Easy enough with such an ass as that fellow. Lovelywomen and jolly chaps for companionship; a lonely house, music, dancing,champagne; a famous French variety star heels over head in love withhim, letters, photographs, nights of revelry, and quarts of wine; andthen--_voila_, the fish is hooked!
Sworn in, by heaven! sworn in in a drunken fit, to wake and find himselfnot only an Apache, but to have his vanity tickled, his empty headturned, and his love of being thought a regular ladies' man pampered tothe full by being told that he is in reality the _king_ of the Apaches,and that hundreds and hundreds of just such jolly fellows and girls ashe sees about him are willing and eager to do the little worm homage andto be ruled by him as though he were actually royal.
It is an old, old game of yours, that, isn't it, Margot? So you havecaught many a fool in your day, wiser fools than this one, and sillier,too, in their way, but none of them ever held his kingship beyond thespace of a month; none at all but that bolder rascal, the VanishingCracksman.
And this little maggot of a Harry Raynor is the latest dupe, eh? Hookedin a drunken moment, the silly gudgeon, hooked that you may get at St.Ulmer and--get even--with the chap called De Louvisan. It must have beena shock when you found what a cowardly cur the fellow is at heart.Still there must be an accomplice, and there must be a strong incentiveto command the services of this one.
How did you work it, then? How get him to assist in that thing, if hedid assist? How lead him up to this abominable act regarding his ownfather? Yes! To be sure, to be sure. Help you and your crew to St.Ulmer's money and you'd help him to _his_: to be r
id of a father whokept him upon a short allowance, who disapproved of all the things andall the people he cared for, and who treated him as though he were alittle foolish boy instead of a great, noble, splendid man, who ought tobe free to live like the king he was.
Oh, it would be easy: just the mere turning of suspicion after the otherthing was done. A letter would do that--a forged letter--and that wouldbe prepared for him nicely. Oh, no, no! of course he wouldn't be hanged.Means would be provided to prevent that. He would be so deeplycompromised, however, that there would be no possibility of his escapingbut by death, and the means of bringing that about would be convenientlysupplied him. A swift but painless poison; or, perhaps, a bottle ofether--something of the sort. No pain, no suffering, all over in aminute or two; then "darling Harry" would come into everything, and theclever little forged letter would explain everything away.
Would it? Cleek's jaws clamped together as the thought came, Would it,indeed? Well, _he'd_ see that it wouldn't, then! If any one was tosuffer it should be the guilty, not the innocent; they should never pullthat game off to the end of time.
The forged letter, eh? Ah, be sure that Harry Raynor would take means topreserve it and to have it handy against the time of need. And be sure,too, that Margot would instruct him with the utmost carefulness just howto act with regard to it, and just where to keep it in order to makeeverything appear natural and in accordance with what he was to tell tohis friend, Mr. Barch, in order to set the ball rolling. Claimed to havereceived it this afternoon, didn't he? So, of course, it would be in thepocket of the coat he had worn at the time. Had to change into eveningclothes for dinner, and was in evening clothes still. So, of course----
The thought had no more than shaped itself in Cleek's mind before he putit into action. As swiftly and as soundlessly as he had left the househe now returned to it. But whereas he had gone out unsuspected andunseen, it now became manifest that he was not to be permitted to enjoythe same privilege in returning, for as he stepped into the hall he cameface to face with Hawkins advancing from the direction of the servants'staircase.
"Out for another ramble in quest of a new plot you see, Hawkins," hesaid gayly as he entered. "The woes of the novelist are many when plotscome slowly. Where's Mr. Harry--upstairs or in the drawing-room with theladies?"
"Neither, Mr. Barch, sir. Still sitting in the dining-room. Just on myway there with a message. Shall I say that you will rejoin him there,sir?"
"No, not at present, thanks. Just going upstairs to change my shoes--thegrass is very damp. By the way, Hawkins, do you happen to know what timeMr. Harry got home last night? Your mistress was asking Miss Lorneearlier in the evening, and as he was with me until ten I shouldn't liketo contradict anything he may have said, _you_ know, should she concludeto ask _me_. Know when he got back?"
"No, sir, that I don't. All I can tell you is that he wasn't home athalf-past twelve when I went to bed."
Cleek made a mental tally. Wasn't home at half-past twelve; and it wasat half-past eleven, according to Mr. Narkom, that the limousine arrivedat the head of Mulberry Lane and the first cry of murder was heard.
"Oh, all right," he said. "Don't worry him by mentioning that I asked.See him myself when I come down." Cleek then passed by and went up thestairs two steps at a time.
He did not stop at the second floor, however, but went up still anotherflight, and then, stopping a moment to look about to see if anybody waswatching and to lean over the bannisters and listen if anybody wasfollowing, went fleetly to Harry Raynor's den, passed in, and shut thedoor behind him.
The place was quite black, but a touch of the electric button flooded itwith light, and showed him at once what he had come to seek. On a chairclose to the open bedroom door lay the clothes which young Raynor hadworn this afternoon, neatly folded, just as Hamer had placed them afterbrushing and pressing, in case the young man should, by any chance,elect to wear the same suit to-morrow.
Cleek moved rapidly to the chair, partly unfolded the coat and slippedhis hand into the inside breast pocket. A letter was there--_the_letter, as he learned when he drew it out and opened it--typewritten bywhat was clearly the hand of a novice, and setting forth just such amessage as young Raynor had stated.
"A bad move, Margot, and a little less carefully done than I should havethought _you_ would have countenanced, knowing how clever and cunningyou are," was his mental comment as he read the thing. Then carefullyrefolding it, he slipped it into his own pocket, snicked off the light,and left the room.
In the lower passage he encountered Hamer.
"Begging pardon, Mr. Barch," the footman said, "but I was just going upto see you, sir. Hawkins tells me that you were anxious to know at whathour Mr. Harry returned home last night, and it happens that I know."
"Do you?" said Cleek. "That's jolly. At what hour did he return lastnight, then?"
"He didn't return last night at all, sir. It was four this morning andday just beginning to break, sir, when I heard a noise, and getting up,looked out of my window, and there he was, a-coming up the drive verycautious-like and acting as though he didn't want to be seen, as nodoubt he didn't, sir, considering that master and mistress didn't knowhe was out at all."
"Didn't know he was out? How do you know that?"
"Because, sir, he said he was going to sit up and write letters when themaster gave the order for Johnston to lock up after Lady Katharine andMiss Lorne returned from Clavering Close; and Mr. Harry he gave me ahalf a crown to see that the door wasn't bolted before I went to bed, ashe intended to slip out and visit a friend. Of course I wouldn't havesaid anything about it to anybody, sir, if Hawkins hadn't told me thatyou said he was with you, which, of course, means that you were thefriend he was going to see, and not, as I'd supposed, the Lady inPink."