The Riddle of the Night

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  THE FLY IN THE OINTMENT

  "My boy?" Sir Philip Clavering made answer, in a wrung voice, a voicethat clearly showed where all his thoughts were, and that he had hadears for nothing, care for nothing, heart for nothing, from the momenthe had been told that Geoff had left the Grange hours and hours ago."What has become of my boy? Where did he go? What has happened to him?He never came back! He never came back!"

  The agony of the man was so intense, so apparent, that Cleek's heartached for him, and he made haste to spare him any greater pain.

  "Oh, as for that, Sir Philip, you needn't worry an atom," he said. "Ithink Miss Lorne has something to tell you about him, and just where hewent, and why he hasn't returned. In fact, I know she has, for he left amessage with her. Went to town on some special matter for Lady KatharineFordham, didn't he, and is likely to be very late indeed in returning?"

  "Yes," said Ailsa, taking her cue and remembering. "In fact, it is amatter that may keep him so late it is possible he will stop in townuntil morning, Sir Philip. He asked me to send word over to you andLady Clavering to relieve you of any possible anxiety; and, indeed, Ishould have done so long ago, only----"

  "Only that I volunteered to walk over the Common and back with her ifshe'd carry the message herself instead of sending it by some one,"supplemented Cleek, coming to the rescue. "And then, like an idiot, Isat so long after dinner with young Mr. Raynor that I forgot all aboutit until she sent me in word. We were going to start at once, and wouldhave done so but for this hubbub. Happened to think, however, that as itwas late and the Common very lonely, it would be wisest to carrysomething for protection in case of necessity, so ran up to my room toget a pistol I had given me. That's why you heard me making such aclatter in running up and down stairs, General, when you popped out ofthe library and asked what was up."

  The General made no reply, but the expression of his mouth and eyes toldplainly what he thought of a man who had to rely upon firearms forprotection in case of assault by footpads. He gave his shoulders asignificant twitch.

  But Sir Philip was too greatly relieved by the good news of his son'ssafety to give thought to other details.

  "You can't think what a load you've taken off my mind, Mr. Barch," hesaid. "I can go home now feeling satisfied. My mind is at rest."

  "I wish mine were, then," put in the General. "But to have one's placeinvaded--and secretly invaded--by the police! God! If I only knew whatit means. That thing last night, and now this! Who under this roof hasfallen under suspicion--_could_ fall under suspicion? The thing is asmysterious as it is appalling. Clavering, you know this man Narkom. Youmust introduce him to me; he must tell me upon what evidence, whatpretext, this thing has been done. The police do not take action without_some_ shadow of reason, some good cause, for what they do; and that mygarden door should be secretly unfastened that one of their spies mayenter these grounds---- It is abominable. Why didn't he apply to me forpermission to enter the place if he thought it necessary to do so? Ihave my rights as well as any other subject of the king. Why, then,should he break open my garden door without warrant or privilege andsend his spies in here?"

  "Maybe he didn't, General." It was Cleek that spoke. "Come to think ofit, the explanation of that chap who claimed to be attached to thepolice was rather fishy, and he was precious sharp about cutting hislucky when I sent him off. Besides, why _should_ he take orders from_me_, anyway?"

  "My dear Mr. Barch----"

  "Catch the point? We've had one sneak thief visit the Grange already,General. What's the odds that they are not identical? We never knew howthe first one managed to get into the place nor where he went when hegot out of it. Well, then, what about that garden door being the answer?Why shouldn't it have been he that unfastened it? Why shouldn't thisbusiness of pouncing upon Sir Philip and making an outcry be a cleverdodge to make a safe getaway?"

  The General looked up, brightening, as if a load had been lifted fromhis shoulders, and breathed a deep sigh of relief.

  "I hadn't thought of that, Mr. Barch," he said, caught by thefeasibility of an argument backed up so plausibly. "We did have a thiefpay us a visit earlier in the evening, to be sure; and, as you say, verypossibly---- Yes, yes, it must be so. There could be no shadow of areason for the police coming here, because---- Eh? What's that, Hamer?"facing round as he heard his name mentioned, and discovering the secondfootman, who had just put in an appearance. "Telephone, did you say?"

  "Yessir. Somebody asking to speak to Mr. Barch, sir; and I requested himto hold the line while I came to call the gentleman."

  "Somebody calling for me over the telephone?" inquired Cleek, withsudden deep interest. "You are sure it is for me, Hamer? Sure that thename was Barch?"

  "Yessir, quite. Mr. Philip Barch was the name given, and I was to saythat it's a most important message."

  Cleek turned and looked inquiringly at the General.

  "Yes, certainly, Mr. Barch, certainly," he said, replying to that look."The instrument is in the library, which opens directly off my study.Hamer will show you the way."

  "No, I will," put in Ailsa. "I shall have to be running up to see howKathie is, and it will be on my way. Good-night, Sir Philip. Good-night,General. Come, Mr. Barch, I'll show you the way." She went with him outof the moonlight in the open to the dark of the shrubbery and the treesthat shut in the path to the house.

  "Tell me," she whispered eagerly as they hurried along. "Are you nearerthe end? Is the solution anywhere in sight?"

  "I think so," he answered.

  "Oh!" with a sharp intaking of the breath. "You found it out at thegarden door, then? You saw the woman and you saw the person she came tomeet?"

  "To the contrary, I saw neither. I merely heard the woman speak. It wasa voice I had never heard before. The man said nothing, and never onceshowed himself. He might have done both but that they heard youreturning and separated like a shot. But please, we will not speak ofthat at present. Wait for me by the shrubbery; I'll tell you a lot whenI meet you there. Just now I am anxious to know who it is that istelephoning to 'Mr. Philip Barch' and for what. Only two persons outsideof Dollops and yourself know that name and whose identity it covers.One is Geoffrey Clavering, the other Mr. Narkom. No, please! Don't askme any questions now, I can't stop to answer them. But this you may knowif it will ease your mind at all: Lady Katharine Fordham never hadanything to do with it, although she was there. Oh, yes, she was, MissLorne; for all your protestations, I tell you that she was! And, what ismore, I know the man, although I do not as yet know the motive!"

  "Oh! You found it out, then, at the garden door?"

  "No, I did not. I daren't stop to explain, but believe me, Miss Lorne, Ibegin to see light. I only wonder at one thing: What makes Sir PhilipClavering use black cosmetic? Sheer vanity, I suppose."

  "Does he?" cried Ailsa, in surprise.

  "Yes, on his moustache. It's wonderful why some of these old men hategray moustaches so. Wait for me, I'll be back as quickly as possible,"and he dived into the house to answer the mysterious telephone call.

  Cleek went straight to the library, flashed an inquiring look all roundit as he closed the door, made sure that nobody else was there, andwalking to the telephone took up the receiver and put it to his ear.

  "Hallo!" he said somewhat cautiously; then, after a moment: "Yes,Barch," he added in response to a query from the other end. "What'sthat? Speak a little louder, please; I can't hear clearly. And, I say, Idon't recognize your voice. Who are you?"

  The voice in question underwent a complete change, showing that theowner of it had, in the first instance, carefully altered it until sureof his man, and then over the wire came promptly the two words: "GeoffClavering!"

  "Eh, what?" exclaimed Cleek, not a little surprised by this revelation,and not doubting the truth of the statement for an instant now that thereal voice of the speaker sounded. "Why, what the dickens-- I say, whereare you?"

  "In London, at the Savoy Hotel, speaking from one of th
e booths. Gothere twenty minutes ago, and as soon as I registered and got a room, Ihunted up one of the clerks who knew me by sight, and then came in hereand rang you up."

  "Why?"

  "I wanted you to know that I'd kept faith with you; that I really havecome to London as I promised. If you doubt it, there's the clerk toprove it any time you like."

  "Why, you ripping young---- By George! Well, well! See here: as openconfession's good for the soul, let me say that I don't doubt it, and,what's more, I never did doubt it, you splendid young pepper pot!"

  "Thanks very much, that's jolly nice of you. But listen here,Mr.--er--Barch. Can't you get word to my pater somehow? He'll worryhimself dotty when midnight comes on and I don't turn up. And I say: howlong have I got to stop up here, anyhow? I hear there's a down train atfour in the morning. Can't I take that, and put on end to the dad'sanxiety as soon as possible?"

  "He hasn't any anxiety on the subject whatsoever, my boy. Miss Lorne andI have seen him, and trumped up a story to cover everything. He doesn'texpect you back until morning. But---- Would you like a pleasantsurprise? Well, you can come back at once if you like and get it. Takeyour own time, however; only be sure that you turn up here not laterthan twelve, and are waiting just outside the lodge gates of the Grangewhen I go there to meet you. What's that? Yes, quite satisfied, quite.She did come out on the Common to-night, and---- What's that? To lookfor you? Yes, of course. What other motive could she have, you sillyfellow? She came out, and your father came out; and--listen and catchthis, Clavering"--sinking his voice--"for it is very important. Yousaid, did you not, that last night when Lady Katharine took you intothat house she told you she would show you something that would 'lightyou back to the land of happiness'?"

  "Yes. Those were her words. Why?"

  "Well, you be outside the lodge gates at the time I want you, my boy,and I'll show both of you the way to that land to-night." And he hung upthe receiver before Geoff could say a word.

  "The soul of honour, just as I knew he was, the young beggar!" he said,putting his thoughts into words for once in a way. "A son for any manto be proud of, that!" And chuckling a little, he prepared to leave theroom.

  But as if the sight of that room, with its swinging French window, itsreading desk with an open book upon it and an easy chair beside, broughtback to his memory that other son and that other father, the smile fadedsuddenly from his lips, his jaw squared, and a pucker gathered betweenhis level brows.

  What a difference between the two sons of those two men he had left outthere in the grounds! The one clean-lived, clean-minded, honour's veryself. The other a wastrel, a sot, a liar, the consort of evil women anddisreputable men, a poor, paltry worm living in an oak tree's shade.

  And to-night the General had wondered why the police should be coming toWuthering Grange; what trail from last night's tragedy led to thethreshold of this house! Yet, while he sat here reading, his own son----Heigho! "'Tis a mad world, my masters," a mad, mad world indeed. Poorold chap! Poor, blind, unsuspecting old chap, sitting here all alone andreading! What was it he was reading while his unnatural son wasslandering him to a stranger?

  He walked to the reading desk and bent over the open book that lay uponit, with a pamphlet beside it and a litter of loose papers all round.

  "Fruit Culture," by Adolph Bonnaise. And the pamphlet? He took it up tolook at the title page, for the half of it was smothered under loosepapers, one or two of which his act sent fluttering to the floor. TheApril number of _The Gardener and Fruit Grower_. Reading of flowers andof fruits, of Nature's good and beautiful things, and all the while----Yes, indeed, Shakespeare was right. It _is_ a mad world! Worse than mad:it is wicked! And the sons of men are the wickedest things in it!

  Oh, well, he mustn't stand wasting time here in moralizing and mooning.Ailsa was waiting.

  The papers he had disturbed lay on the floor, close to a half-filledscrap basket. Unimportant things enough they were: seedsmen's circulars,soap advertisements, tailors' announcements, all the litter ofloose-leaf insets that are thrust between the covers of monthlymagazines; quite unimportant, and not worth the trouble he was taking togather them up and replace them upon the desk. But---- Oh, well, heshouldn't like the General to think that when he came into the libraryto use his telephone he'd been cad enough to look over his papers; so,of course--That all of them? Any drop into the waste basket by chance?Perhaps that bit of white paper with the red blob of sealing wax on eachend might have fallen with the rest. He picked it out of the basket,turned it over, and decided that it hadn't; smelt it, smiled one of hiscurious one-sided smiles, and flung it back into the basket.

  Even an old soldier may have his foibles and his weaknesses. It is onrecord that Bonaparte had a secret love of bonbons; that Washington hada passion for barley sugar; and that Drake slept always with aniseseeds within easy reach.

  He turned away as he tossed the paper back, walked to the door, openedit, and stepped out. The staircase down which he had run in such hothaste at the sound of Dollops's whistle was before him. He stopped aninstant and looked up it, then nodded his head in the direction of LordSt. Ulmer's quarters, and if he had put his thoughts into actual words,would have said this:

  "I'll know your part in it, and I'll see your face by hook or by crookbefore this night is over; I promise you that, my man!" Then he turnedagain, and went down the hall to the dining-room.

  Harry Raynor was still there, lying with his arms sprawled out upon thetable and his head sunk between them.

  Cleek stood still and looked at him. Of a certainty, the man had movedsince last he saw him; but whether that movement had been merely theunconscious stirring of a sleeping man or the fellow had been up andabout in the meantime, it was impossible to say.

  Cleek, taking no chances, closed and locked the door, and assuming oncemore his "Barch" tone and manner of expression, advanced to his side,shook him, and said:

  "I say, Raynor, don't be a howling ass! Buck up and don't sleep thewhole blessed night away. I'm jolly lonesome."

  Young Raynor went on snoring serenely, and neither answered nor moved.

  Still Cleek was taking no chances. He repeated the operation withgreater force and louder spoken words, and finding it produced noeffect, finally shook the man so hard that his head lolled over on onearm and let the hidden face come into sight.

  The jaw hung loose, the scooped cheeks and pendulous lip gleamed pale asivory, and the whites of his eyes shone like narrow bands of silverthrough the slits of their half-closed lids.

  There was no question whatsoever regarding the man's condition.Satisfied now, Cleek felt his pulse, pushed up one of his eyelids andexamined the eye itself. The pupil was largely dilated, the whitesuffused considerably, and both were slightly filmed.

  "Hum-m-m!" he breathed conclusively, then turned from the man and lookedat the decanters and glasses on the littered table. "Port, Brandy,Benedictine, Scotch. To be sure! to be sure! Who is to know the taste ofa mere guest in the matter of his after-dinner drink? So, if it is putin _all_----" He took up the decanters one by one, sampled theircontents in turn, and smiled one of his queer crooked smiles when he setthe last one down.

  "Clever, very clever, my friend," he said. "And who was to tell you thatthe guest would not drink at all?"

  Then he turned on his heel suddenly and left the room.