CHAPTER XIII

  FLIGHT

  "WHAT!" exclaimed Sir Silas and Mr Buckley, simultaneously. "Amake-up? Explain yourself, Atherton."

  "That I think is fairly simple, sir," said the Scout. "The marks onthe window-frame show that a jemmy has been used, but unless thesash-frame on that side were prised out the window could not beopened by those means. No professional burglar would attempt to use ajemmy on a window; he would stick a piece of putty to the glass closeto the fastening, and cut round it with a diamond. That would be anoiseless operation, while the force that caused those dents wouldmake quite a racket. Then, sir, there is the lock. The front of thesafe has been electrically drilled. Upon examining it I find that thedrill was applied from the inside."

  "From the inside?" repeated the baronet.

  "Yes, Sir Silas. The door was first opened with the proper key, swungback, and cut whilst in that position."

  "By Jove, Atherton, I believe you are right," exclaimed theScoutmaster, holding a pocket microscope to the portion of the metaldoor. "Do you suspect anyone in your house, sir?" he added,addressing Sir Silas.

  "It looks a serious matter for my butler to explain. I'll send forhim."

  "One minute, sir," said Atherton. "Mr Tassh spent the night beforelast on Seal Island."

  "But he declared just now that he never slept out of the house duringthe whole time I was away. Are you sure of this?"

  "Well, sir, he pitched a yarn into us that his name was Todd, andthat he was a stranger to the place. He couldn't get back toPolkerwyck because it was too rough, and in the morning we gave himsome food."

  "I won't say anything about your discovery to him at present,Atherton. I'll ask him to bring in some refreshment. In my concernabout this robbery I quite overlooked my duties as a host, MrBuckley."

  "Tassh, bring in some sandwiches, cake, lemonade and anything elseyou think these young gentlemen may fancy," ordered the baronet.

  "Yes, sir," replied the butler; and in a few minutes he returned witha loaded tray.

  "By the by, Tassh," said Sir Silas in a well-assumed casual tone, "Isuppose you have seen these young gentlemen before to-day?"

  "Yes, sir. Saw them when they arrived, and again the other day when Icalled in at the post-office."

  "But the night before last?"

  "The night before last, sir?" repeated the butler, in a mechanicalvoice. "I don't understand, sir."

  "But I hear that you were on Seal Island."

  "Quite a mistake, sir. I haven't set foot on Seal Island for morethan a twelvemonth, and that was when I went with Farmer Trebarwith."

  "It is sometimes awkward for a man to have a double, Tassh," said SirSilas grimly, "especially in a small place like Polkerwyck. All thesame, Tassh, I have a few questions to put to you later on. Go toyour room and remain there till I send for you."

  "Very good, sir."

  Without the faintest trace of emotion the butler withdrew. Thebaronet waited till the latch of the door clicked and turned toAtherton.

  "You are quite sure of what you said about Tassh?"

  "Yes, sir; and the rest of us saw him too."

  "But there is such a thing as mistaken identity?"

  "Well, then, sir, in that case both Peter Varco and Tregaskis sawhim. Tregaskis took him off the Island in his boat."

  "Strange," commented Sir Silas.

  "And, sir," continued Atherton, "since Tassh is so keen on concealinghis movements, I must say that his downright bluff in denying hisidentity confirms our suspicions. More than once some one has visitedthe Tea Caves by night. One man only, and one wearing large boots andtaking very small footsteps. On one occasion he came by boat and tooksome of our thole-pins. How he managed on other occasions we cannotyet make out."

  "I think there is enough circumstantial evidence to warrant hisarrest," declared the baronet. "You know the local police station, Isuppose, lads? Ah, that's good. Will one of you slip out quietly andsee if Sergeant Coombes is still there. If not, bring Gregory, thepoliceman."

  "I say, Atherton, you are making a most grave statement against theman," cautioned Mr Buckley. "If there is a mistake the result will beserious, you know."

  "There is quite enough cause, since Tassh has deliberately told mefalsehoods concerning his visit to Seal Island," said the baronet."I'll take all responsibility should there be any question of illegalarrest, Mr Buckley."

  A quarter of an hour later Polglaze, the plain-clothes officer,cycled up to the house.

  "Sergeant Coombes is following, sir," he announced. "Have youdiscovered any clue, Sir Silas?"

  "Yes," replied the baronet, grimly. "Thanks to these Scouts. I wantyou to arrest Paul Tassh on a charge of theft."

  In a few words Sir Silas explained the situation, and in spite ofprofessional jealousy the detective was bound to admit thatAtherton's deductions were quite sufficient to justify the step thebaronet was about to take.

  Sir Silas touched the bell communicating with the butler's privateroom. He waited a full minute and rang again. There was no reply.

  "Strikes me very forcibly that I've given the fellow a chance andhe's taken it, by Jove!" remarked Sir Silas, as he touched anelectric push that rang a bell in the servants' hall.

  "Jones, go to Tassh's room and tell him to come instantly," orderedthe baronet, as a young under-footman entered. "Stay: perhaps, MrPolglaze, you would like to accompany Jones?"

  Two minutes later the detective returned.

  "He's in his room, sir, but he's locked himself in," announcedPolglaze. "I demanded admittance three times, but before I burst openthe door I thought I would tell you, Sir Silas."

  "Do you think Tassh has done himself an injury?" asked the baronet,anxiously.

  "Judging by the man's appearance I should say not. He may haveslipped off. Station two of your Scouts outside his window, MrBuckley, if you don't mind."

  The under-footman pointed out the window to Baker and Mayne, andreturned with the intelligence that it was closed. Since the windowwas fifteen feet from the ground, and had a very narrow sill, it wasmost unlikely that Tassh could have made good his escape and at thesame time closed the window after him.

  Outside, in the corridor, Sir Silas, the detective, the Scoutmasterand the remaining Scouts halted. Polglaze knelt down and attempted topeep through the keyhole. The key was in the lock and effectuallythwarted the detective's action.

  "Does Tassh carry firearms, sir?" he asked.

  "Not to my knowledge."

  "Then it is possible that he is armed. If he is desperate we may havea lively reception. Suppose, Sir Silas, we tell these lads to godownstairs out of danger? We will then wait till Coombes and Gregoryarrive, force the door and rush our man."

  Somewhat reluctantly in spirit, yet with alacrity, the Scouts obeyedtheir Scoutmaster's order to get out of harm's way. As they weredescending the stairs the sergeant and the village policeman, bothvery red in the face with exertion, came hurrying up.

  "Open the door instantly, Tassh," ordered Sir Silas in a loud voice.

  There was no reply. Only the ticking of a grandfather's clock at thehead of the stairs and the laboured breathing of the two policemenbroke the silence.

  "Force it," said the baronet, laconically.

  Polglaze put his shoulder to the door. The good, old-fashioned oakresisted his efforts.

  "Bear a hand here, Coombes," he said. "Now, together."

  The sixteen-stone Cornish sergeant's weight added to the detective'smodest eleven did the trick. The door, forced from its hinges, flewinwards, Coombes following it and sprawling heavily upon the floor.

  The room was empty.

  "He must be somewhere about," said the detective. "We know the dooris locked on the inside. A man cannot go out of a room, shut a door,and lock it on the inside, can he?"

  The room was in a fairly tidy state. A white table-cloth covered thetable. On it were the remains of a meal, and a box of cigars that SirSilas recognised as containing his special brand. A sporting paperand a copy of
one of the county journals with an account of thesupposed burglary lay on one of the chairs, the former apparentlyhaving been dropped there when the butler received his orders toattend upon Sir Silas. His watch was hanging from a hook by the sideof the large mantelpiece. All pointed to the fact that Tassh'sdeparture had been hurriedly performed; at the same time the questionarose, how did he manage it?

  "Well, Polglaze?"

  "This knocks me, Sir Silas," replied the detective, rubbing hisshoulder that was beginning to forcibly remind him that oaken doorscannot be charged with impunity.

  "Shall I see what those Scouts make of it?" asked the baronet, with agrim sense of humour.

  "Let 'em have a shot at it, by all means, Sir Silas," said Polglaze."This beats cockfighting."

  But the Scouts had to own themselves beaten for the time being atleast. They tried the walls, floor, chimney, and everything theycould think of, but without success.

  "I believe he got out by the chimney," suggested Sergeant Coombes,who, since his tumble, had judiciously kept silent in order to regainhis breath.

  "The soot hasn't been disturbed," said Atherton. "That's what Iparticularly noticed."

  "All the same I say it's the chimney, young man," said the sergeant,with a brave show of dignity. "And until you prove to my satisfactionthat 'tain't, well then, 'tis the chimney, I say."

  "Don't stand there laying down the law, Coombes," said the detective."Every minute Tassh is no doubt getting farther and farther away.Gregory, hurry back to the village and telephone through to all thestations nearabouts. Give the full details, although I'll stake mylife there's hardly a policeman within twenty miles who doesn't knowPaul Tassh."

  At Mr Buckley's suggestion the Scouts made a complete circuit of thehouse, examining the ground for possible trails; but all to nopurpose.

  At three o'clock the lads bade farewell to their host, at the sametime expressing their sympathy at the loss, and their regret at theirinability to do anything of service in the matter.

  As the patrol descended the hill leading to the village, Bakerpointed to Seal Island.

  "Look," he exclaimed. "There's something wrong with the 'Wolves,' Ido declare."

 
Percy F. Westerman's Novels