CHAPTER XXVIII
That night, Inspector Brown confided his disappointment in the ways ofScotland Yard to the wife of his bosom. He was a conscientious man; andit seemed to him that, in the face of Mr. Jacobs' obvious incapacity, itbehoved him, Mr. Brown, to follow the case with renewed energy. So faras the worthy Inspector could see, Mr. Jacobs was doing absolutelynothing, save eat his meals, smoke his cigar, and stroll about thegrounds and admire the scenery. Therefore, the Inspector enjoined hismen to keep a careful watch; and he himself, when not in Mr. Jacobs'company, patrolled the woods and, following the clue Lord Heyton hadoffered him, had visited the gipsy encampment and examined the membersof the tribe. He came upon nothing to rouse his suspicions of them;indeed, he hit upon no clue whatever; but he still kept up a kind ofpatrol and scrutinised every person who approached the Hall.
If Mr. Jacobs was aware of the Inspector's renewed vigilance, he made noremark; and whenever they were together, and the Inspector wanted totalk of the case, Mr. Jacobs politely and quite inoffensively--in fact,he always listened most respectfully--led the conversation away from thesubject. Once or twice, the Inspector was absolutely on the point ofasking the famous detective why on earth he was lingering at the Hall;but his courage always failed him; for, notwithstanding the detective'sboyish face and innocent-looking eyes, there was something about himwhich inspired a kind of respect in Inspector Brown.
After that momentary glimpse of intelligence, and his interview with hisson, the Marquess had relapsed into unconsciousness; but the doctor, inanswer to Celia's anxious inquiries, had told her that there was achance, just a chance, of life.
As the great house settled into its nightly silence, Derrick's train wasspeeding on its way. He had got through Donna Elvira's businesssatisfactorily, and, moreover, following Reggie's instructions, obtainedhis special licence; therefore, his heart was light as he sat and smokedwhile the express tore through the silence of the night. He reachedThexford at ten o'clock in the morning, and went straight to the inn.Reggie, he was told, was out; and Derrick made a good breakfast and,naturally enough, was drawn towards the wood. It was a hundred to onechance that Celia should be there; but he decided to take the odds. Themorning was hot; it was not at all unlikely that, puzzled and perhapsalarmed by his absence, she might go to the wood. On his way, it wasalso natural that he should recall his sight of Heyton on the precedingmorning; and, having recalled that, it was also a corollary that heshould remember Heyton's mysterious proceedings.
When they occurred to Derrick, he was not very far from the spot whereHeyton had disappeared for a minute or two; and Derrick saunteredtowards the place and stood looking round him. He was keen-eyed, and insome of his experiences in South America he had learnt a certain amountof bush-craft; and he had no difficulty in finding the exact spot inwhich he had lost sight, for a moment, of Heyton.
With a feeling that was scarcely one of curiosity, he examined theground in close proximity, and presently, he caught sight of a portionof the fringe of a bathing-towel. He took it from the thorn on which ithung, and fingered it absently; and while doing so, he noted the mark offootsteps which had trodden down the bracken in front of a certain bush.Almost at the same moment, he saw a little heap of dried leaves beneaththe bush, and, mechanically, he stirred them with his foot. To hisamazement, the displaced leaves revealed a box covered with moroccoleather. He stood and looked down at it with that sense of incredulitywhich comes to all of us when we happen upon something absolutelyunexpected; then he knelt down and took up the box. It was heavy and,when he shook it, it rattled softly.
He stood with the box in his hand, staring at it, and wondering whetherit was the thing Heyton had concealed, and what it contained. Alsoanother most important question was agitating him: What should he dowith it? Presumably, it was Heyton's property; and should be returned tohim at once. But why on earth should Heyton come out in the earlymorning to conceal a morocco-covered box under a bush in Thexford Woods?
To say that Derrick was suspicious is to express inadequately thefeeling that suddenly assailed him. He knew that the man was ascoundrel, and as unscrupulous as he was weak; a man who could forge acheque, and plant the blame on another, is capable of anything; andDerrick scented a mystery, a base, ignoble one, with Heyton as itscentre. He sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree, the box in his hand,and stared frowningly before him. He could find no answer to the enigma.That he himself should march up to the Hall and restore the box toHeyton, was impossible. After all, the affair was none of his, and,perhaps, the best thing he could do would be to put the box back in itshiding-place and leave things to work themselves out. He wanted to havenothing more to do with Heyton, or any business of his. Yes; the easiestand the safest plan would be to leave the box where he had found it andhave nothing more to do with it. With this more or less wise resolution,he rose and had taken a step forward, when he heard a sound behind him,felt a hand fall heavily on his shoulder, and, turning, met the sternand agitated gaze of Inspector Brown.
"I arrest you for robbery and attempted murder!" said the Inspector.
His voice, for all its sternness, shook and his face was red andworking; for this was the most important moment of Inspector Brown'slife, and it was little wonder that he was agitated and strung up. Whilethe great detective from Scotland Yard was doing nothing, here had he,the Inspector, actually discovered the criminal, caught him red-handed,so to speak!
"It is no use your offering any resistance," he said, brusquely. "Threeor four constables are within call; you could not possibly escape. I'vehad my eye upon you for some time, my man, and have taken precautions."
This assertion was not strictly true, but the Inspector almost felt itwas.
Derrick stared at the red face in a kind of stupefied amazement; at lasthe said:
"You mean that you are charging me with stealing this thing?"
"I do," replied the Inspector; "and you may as well hand it over to mewithout any fuss."
"I shall be delighted to do so," said Derrick, grimly.
He had not yet realized the full significance of the Inspector's firstformal words; for the moment Derrick's mind was engrossed by thesardonic irony of Fate. Here it was again! There was something reallymonotonous in the way in which this peculiar phase of misfortune doggedhim. Was he really going to be again charged with an offence he had notcommitted? He opened his lips to speak; to say where he had found thebox; then he remembered the words "attempted murder," and instead ofgiving information--which the Inspector would certainly have receivedwith incredulity--Derrick said quietly and with a sudden pallor,
"Did I understand you to charge me with attempted murder as well asrobbery?"
"I did," responded the Inspector, sternly. "The attempted murder of theMarquess of Sutcombe."
Derrick did not start, made no exclamation, but the pallor of his faceincreased and he gave a little nod. If this box had been stolen, the manwho had hidden it was, in all probability, the thief--and attemptedmurderer. Percy--the Marquess's own son! Confused and bewildered as hewas, Derrick had sense enough left in him to feel that he must hold histongue.
"All right," he said, very gravely. "I should like to say----"
"If you'll take my advice, you'll say nothing," broke in the Inspector,in an official manner. "You must know as well as I do that everythingyou say----"
"Quite so," said Derrick. "Where are you going to take me?"
"To the lock-up at Fleckfield," replied the Inspector, much relieved inhis mind now that he saw his prisoner was not going to offer anyresistance, give any trouble. "You're quite right to take it quietly. AsI said, we're surrounded by my men. What's this?"
"This" was Celia, coming through the wood and hastening her steps at thesound of Derrick's voice. She stopped dead short, at sight of the twomen, looking from one to the other in surprise, but no alarm; then sheadvanced to Derrick with, "Sydney!" on her lips.
"Why, it's you, Miss Grant!" said the Inspector. "I'm glad you've comeup--though this is no plac
e for you." He paused and looked at her in apuzzled way. "But you know this man, you called him 'Sydney'?"
"What does he mean?" asked Celia, in a bewildered fashion, of Derrick."Why does he speak like that?--Oh, what does it mean!"
"It means that the Inspector here is making a mistake, Celia," saidDerrick gravely, but without any resentment. "It appears that there hasbeen a robbery at the Hall----"
"You've heard nothing about it!" exclaimed Celia.
"No," said Derrick, quietly. "I left for London yesterday morning early;I returned this morning, saw no one, heard nothing of it."
"Oh, come now, you'd better keep silent," interrupted the Inspector."Miss Grant, I met this gentleman"--he hesitated on the word--"withthis"--he tapped the box--"in his possession. I know, from thedescription, that it is the missing jewel-case, and I have arrested himon the charge of robbery and attempted murder. How you seem to knowhim--I don't understand----"
Celia stood as if turned to stone for a moment or two; her eyeswandering from the faces of the two men to the jewel-case; then shebroke out,
"Sydney, why don't you explain?--It's a mistake, Inspector, a terriblemistake! I know this gentleman; I--I am engaged to him, I am going to behis wife. It's--absurd to suspect him!--Sydney, where did you find thething?"
"Now, Miss Grant," said the Inspector soothingly, before Derrick couldreply. "Let me advise you, as I have already advised the prisoner, notto say another word. I am sorry, truly sorry that a young lady ofyour--position should be so intimately acquainted, should be----Dear,dear, this is very sad, Miss Grant! I think you'd better go back to theHall. But please don't say anything to Mr. Jacobs; I will come back tohim directly I have seen the prisoner locked up."
Celia was calm now; her momentary terror had given place to grief andpity for the man she loved. Not for a second did any doubt of hisinnocence assail her. With that almost divine intuition of true love,she knew, not only that he was innocent, but that this crime was in someway or other connected with the former one, that of the forged cheque.
"Yes, I will go back to the Hall," she said; "but you will let me speakto Mr. Green before I go?"
"Of course, I can't prevent you," said the Inspector; "but you must saywhat you have to say in my hearing, and, of course, I shall take note ofevery word."
Celia went to Derrick, put her arm round his neck and kissed him.
"I can wait, dearest," she said. "You will not let this--this weigh uponyou, trouble you?"
He was silent for a moment, his lips working; but the kiss she hadimpressed upon him strengthened and nerved him.
"God bless you, Celia!" he murmured, very quietly. "Go now! Onemoment--is the Marquess dying?"
"No," she said, with a dry little sob. "He is very bad, has beendreadfully injured, but he may recover."
"Thank God!" said Derrick. "That is all I will say. Go back, now,dearest. I will write to you--if they will let me."
The two men moved on; but she stood, her hand pressed against the tree,as if for support, as if she were unable to move, her eyes following thetwo figures; and as she watched them, in an agony, she saw a thirdfigure coming through the gate. For a moment she did not recognize it,then she saw that it was Mr. Clendon. She saw him stop in front of theother two men and she ran forward, calling his name, and, in anotherinstant, she was clinging to him. The old man murmured her namesoothingly, and she tried to control herself; but her voice was brokenby sobs, as she said:
"Oh, Mr. Clendon, I am in great trouble. They have arrested him--the manI am going to marry----" She could get no further.
Mr. Clendon looked steadily, piercingly at Derrick; and Derrick, as ifanswering the look, shook his head slightly and shrugged his shoulders.
"Who is this?" demanded the Inspector, impatiently; for, naturally, hewas anxious to get his prisoner under lock and key.
"I am a friend of Miss Grant's and this gentleman," said Mr. Clendon."You need not explain, I have heard of the robbery. I am on my way tothe Hall. The Marquess is--a friend of mine, an old friend. One moment,"he added to the Inspector, "I want to tell this gentleman you havearrested--under a mistake, I am convinced--that I am assured of hisinnocence, and that I charge myself with his defence."
He held out his hand to Derrick as he spoke; the two men exchanged gripsand looked into each other's eyes; and again Derrick was conscious ofthat peculiar thrill which he had felt when he first touched Mr.Clendon's hand.
"Thank you, sir," he said, quietly. "Will you please take care of MissGrant--Celia? I should like you to take her away now."
"Come, my dear," said Mr. Clendon; and looking over her shoulder tillDerrick had disappeared, Celia went with Mr. Clendon, her hand in his.
"Do you think you can tell me all you know about this terriblebusiness?" he said, when she had yielded to the relief of tears and wascalmer and more composed.
Celia told him all she knew, and Mr. Clendon listened with attention andin silence.
"Of course, he is innocent," she wound up. "Oh, Mr. Clendon, I'm so gladyou've come; it is as if--as if you had been sent to me. A moment or twoago I felt as--as I saw him taken away--that I was left alone in theworld; but I feel now that I have a friend----"
"I trust that you have, my child," he said. "Don't cry any more. Tearscost so much; and I am convinced that you need not weep for fear of yourlover's safety. He has been wrongfully accused; I do not doubt that fora moment."
"You don't; I know you don't! But why?" said Celia. "The jewel-case--Iknow it was the jewel-case, because the bank has telegraphed to say thatpoor Lord Sutcombe took it from the bank, and he must have brought ithere--it was in the safe, was stolen from it. And the Inspector saidthat he had found it in Sydney's possession. That looks so black againsthim. And yet--you are as convinced of his innocence as I am!"
"Yes," said Mr. Clendon, quietly, "I am convinced. I could not tell youwhy; let us say that it is because your lover's face is not that of aguilty man. Besides," he added, with the ghost of a smile, "a man doesnot walk about a wood with a stolen jewel-case under his arm--if hehimself is the thief."
"Of course!" cried Celia, stopping short, her face lighting up. "No onewould be such a fool--least of all Sydney," she added, more to herselfthan to him, "who is so clever."
"Exactly," said Mr. Clendon. "So you see, my child, you have nothing tobe alarmed about. Here is the Hall!" He looked up at the noble facadewith a curious expression in his face. "It is years since I have beenhere," he added, musingly.
"You have been here before, you know the Marquess?" said Celia. "Yes,you said so. How strange! Why, Mr. Clendon," she broke off, turning uponhim, with a flush of gratitude, "I see now, I see now! It was _you_ whogot me the place here. And I never guessed it! Oh, how good you havebeen to me! And you hid it." Her hand pressed his.
The old man frowned slightly. "You have caught me, my dear," he said."It was a great pleasure to me to be of assistance to you. But we haveother things to think of," he added, as they passed up the steps intothe hall.
The butler met them, suppressing the astonishment he felt at sight ofthe poorly-dressed old man in Miss Grant's company, suppressing it notonly from the instincts of a well-trained servant, but because he knew,at a glance, that shabby as the bent figure was, the stranger was agentleman.
"My name is Clendon," said Mr. Clendon. "I am an old friend of LordSutcombe's; and I have come down to inquire after him, to see him if itis possible."
"Certainly, sir," said the butler; and he led the way to thedrawing-room. But Celia drew Mr. Clendon into the library.
"Stay with me here," she begged him. "I will go up to the Marquess'sroom and see if he is well enough to be told that you are here. I fearthat you will not be able to see him. And you must have something toeat," she said, with womanly consideration.
"Thank you, my dear, I need nothing," he said.
As he spoke, the door was opened, none too gently, and Heyton stood onthe threshold. He looked from Celia to the old man with what wasintended to be a stare of ha
ughty surprise; but was, in reality, a kindof sullen insolence.
"Oh? Who is this?" he demanded.
"A friend of your father's, Lord Heyton," said Mr. Clendon, before Celiacould speak. "So old and so dear a friend that he is warranted inintruding, even at such a moment."
"Well, you are intruding, right enough, though you may be an oldfriend," said Heyton, thickly. "My father is very ill, dangerously ill,as you may have heard. This is no time for--for visitors."
"Forgive me," said Mr. Clendon gently, but with a calmness and dignitythat impressed even the only half-sober Heyton, "but my intrusion isjustified, as Lord Sutcombe will bear me out, when he knows I am here."
"Oh, well," said Heyton, with an insolent shrug of his shoulders. "Ican't speak any more plainly. If you can't take a hint--but it doesn'tmatter; I'm quite certain that you can't see my father, even if he canbe told that you are here."
"We will see," said Mr. Clendon.
Heyton looked at him for a moment, angrily and a trifle suspiciously;then he swung on his heel and went out.
"You must not mind," said Celia. "Lord Heyton is, naturally, very muchupset. I should think he scarcely knows what he is saying to you."
"Very likely," assented Mr. Clendon gravely, and without any sign ofresentment.
"I will go up now," said Celia; "and I will come down again to youdirectly."
"One moment," he said, staying her with a gesture. "Will you give me asheet of paper and a pen and ink?"
Celia did so. Mr. Clendon wrote the letter "W" on the paper, folded itand handed it to her.
"Will you give him this, my dear? If he cannot read it, you may open itand tell him what is written on it."