The Lost Million

doctorshave had no hesitation in pronouncing death to be due to naturalcauses."

  "Would you mind describing to me, as far as you are able, what you heardin the night?" I said. "I have a reason for asking this. No doubt youhave already several times told your story."

  "Yes. To the medical men and also to the police," he said. "Well, itwas like this. I'm quartered at Canterbury, and Guy, who was in myregiment and retired a year or so ago, asked me to spend a few days withhim. I came here three days ago and found him in the highest ofspirits, and very keen about tennis. He took me over to see a man namedShaw, and his daughter, of whom he was, I know, very fond. The nightbefore last he gave a little dinner to a few people, and Shaw and thegirl were here. After dinner we all went out on to the lawn for coffee.The place was hung with Chinese lanterns and looked charming, but allGuy's attention was devoted towards entertaining Shaw's daughter. I sawthem cross the lawn in the moonlight and stroll into the groundstogether; and when they came back I overheard Shaw expressing hisannoyance to her at her absence. Shaw chatted with Justice Michelmore agood deal, while I had a Mrs Vane, a rather stout person, put upon mefor the evening. I tell you I envied Guy, for the girl is reallydelightful."

  "Was there any bridge?"

  "Yes, for about an hour in the drawing-room. Shaw and the Judge did notplay. Before eleven the guests began to depart, and the Vanes, the lastto leave, went about midnight. After they had gone I sat in the librarywith Guy for half an hour, and had a cigar. He was full of AstaSeymour, and when I asked him why he did not propose to her he reflecteda moment, and then told me, in strict confidence, that he would do so atonce--but for a certain circumstance."

  "Did he explain that circumstance?" I asked eagerly.

  "No. I pressed him, but he refused to tell me. `It is my secret,Teddy,' he said. `A secret which, alas! bars my happiness for ever.'As we smoked, I noticed that, contrary to the rule, the long windowyonder was open, and remarked upon it. He rose, and saying that theservant had probably forgotten it, closed it himself and barred theshutters. You'll see they are strong shutters, and they were found inthe morning closed and barred just as he had left them. Indeed, Iunbarred them myself."

  "Then you left him here?" I asked.

  "No. He turned off the light and came out with me, locking the doorafter him, for it seems he's always careful to have every door on theground floor locked at night. He came upstairs with me, wished me acheery good-night outside my own door, and, promising to motor me intoOakham on the morrow, went along to his room. That is the last time hewas seen alive."

  "What did you next hear?"

  "I was awakened by a loud, piercing shriek--a man's shriek of intensehorror, it seemed. No one else slept in this wing of the house, or theymust certainly have heard it. I roused myself at the unusual sound, forI was thoroughly startled and awakened by it. The clock on mymantelshelf struck two. I waited for some minutes, when I heard a noisewhich seemed to be below in the library, as though some one were movingabout trying the door and hammering upon it. This caused me to wonder,and I held my breath to listen further. I suppose I must have lain likethat for fully an hour. It was my intention if I heard anything furtherto go along to Guy's room. I had, of course, some hesitation inarousing the household. But as I heard nothing further, I suppose Ifell asleep, for the sun was shining when I awoke again. I got up, andwas crossing to the window to look out when I heard a woman's cry forhelp. So I rushed out in my pyjamas, and, descending the stairs, foundpoor Guy lying just here," and he crossed to a spot about four yardsfrom the door, and pointed to the red carpet.

  "Was the room in any disorder?" I asked.

  "Not as far as I could see. The shutters yonder were closed and barred,so I opened them and then tried to rouse my friend. But, alas! I sawby the ashen look upon his face that he was already dead. He was stillin his dinner-jacket--just as I had left him. Of course you can wellimagine the scene and the horror of the servants. Poor Guy--he was oneof the very best."

  "What is your theory, Captain Cardew?"

  "Theory! Well, I hardly know. I was a fool, and I shall never forgivemyself for not raising an alarm when I first heard his shriek. I oughtto have known that something was wrong. But there are moments in one'slife when one, being awakened suddenly, acts foolishly. It was so withme."

  CHAPTER TWELVE.

  THE CRY IN THE NIGHT.

  "After leaving you at the door of your room he must have returned to thelibrary," I said to Cardew. "Were all the lights out when he came upwith you?"

  "By Jove! No, they were not," he replied. "He didn't turn out thelight in the passage here just outside the library door. I have notremembered that point until this moment!"

  "Did you see any newspaper about?"

  "Yes, there was one lying near that armchair over there," and he pointedto a big saddle-bag chair in dark green plush, where a large embroideredcushion of pale violet velvet lay crushed and crumpled, just as theunfortunate man had arisen from it.

  "Then it is probable that after leaving you he made up his mind toreturn to the library and read his paper as usual," I said. "He did so,and, lighting up again, flung himself into his favourite chair to read."

  "And while reading, he had the fatal seizure--eh? That, at least, isthe theory of the police," the Captain said.

  "But you say that the housemaid, when she came to clean the room, foundthe door locked from the outside?" I remarked. The reason I cannottell, but somehow, while we had been speaking, I thought I had detecteda curious mysterious evasiveness in the Captain's manner. Was hetelling all he knew?

  "Yes," he said. "It was undoubtedly locked from the outside--a mostmysterious fact."

  "Why mysterious?" I queried. "If Nicholson wished to commit suicide inmysterious circumstances, he could easily have arranged that he shouldbe found behind locked doors. He had only to pass out by the door, lockit, and re-enter by the library window again, and bar that. I noticedas I came in that there is a spring-lock on the front door--so that itlocks itself when closed!"

  "Ah! I had not thought of that," the Captain declared. "Of course, bysuch proceeding he would have been found locked in."

  "But you have suspicion of foul play," I said; "you may as well admitthat, Captain Cardew."

  "Well, I see no good in concealing it," he said, with a smile. "To tellthe truth now, after well weighing the facts for more than twenty-fourhours, I have, I admit, come to a rather different conclusion to that ofthe medical men."

  "And I agree with you," I declared. "One point we have to consider iswhat occupied poor Guy from the time when he left you until two o'clock.He would not take an hour and a half to read a newspaper."

  "No, but he might have been reading something else. He was not writingletters, for the same thought occurred to me, and I searched for anyletters he might have written, but I could find none."

  "The question arises whether he returned to the library in order to meetsomebody there in secret," I exclaimed. "They may have passed in by thewindow to meet him, and afterwards out by the door, and eventually bythe front door."

  His round face, with the slight fair moustache, instantly changed.

  "By Jove! I've never thought of that!" he gasped. "Then your theory isthat from half-past twelve till two he was not alone, eh? What causesyou to suspect that he did not die of natural causes, Mr Kemball? I'vebeen quite frank with you; will you not be equally straightforward withme?"

  "Well, I have strong reasons for believing that it was to the interestof certain persons that he should die suddenly," I said; "that's all."

  "Will you not name the persons?" he asked.

  "Not until I obtain proof. I may be mistaken. I may be grosslymisjudging perfectly innocent persons, therefore I make no specificcharge against anybody," was my calm reply, as I stood gazing around thelarge sombre old room, whence a beautiful view of the long avenue andthe park was spread. It was a quiet, silent, restful apartment, inwhich the previous o
wner--a great politician and writer--had spent manystudious hours.

  "But if you entertain any well-founded suspicions, ought you not to putthem to the police?"

  "And allow the local constables to bungle a very difficult and delicateinquiry! Scarcely, I think," I replied, with a smile, still lookingabout me, and wondering what had really happened in that long, old-worldroom during the silent watches of that fatal night.

  "Nothing has been touched here," Cardew remarked. "I picked up thenewspaper, but everything is left just as I found it when I rushed downat hearing the