The Riddle of the Night

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

"QUICK! FIRE!"

Geoff did not reply; he could not. As if the sight of that slow-moving figure, linked with the realization which had now come upon him, had wrought a curious numbing effect upon mind and heart alike, he simply stood there, breathing hard, and looked, and looked, and looked, but said no single word. Even Dollops could see that there was a glint of something wet and shining in the crease beside his eye, and that, in spite of tears, he smiled as a man might smile if he had waked to find that all the world was his. It was Ailsa that made the first sound, spoke the first word.

"Oh, Mr. Cleek, to think that she should be a somnambulist," she said with a little catch in her voice, as if she were laughing and sobbing at the same time and fighting hard to do neither. "And to think that you should have guessed it when even I, her dearest and closest friend, never suspected it for an instant."

"Oh, as for that, Miss Lorne, I really deserve very little credit indeed," he made answer.

For a moment he followed with his eyes the departing figure of Lady Katharine as it moved fleetly along the path to the stable quarters, where stood the stile giving access to the paddock and thence, by a far-away wall door, to the waste land of the open country beyond.

"If anybody is to be praised for the discovery of the truth as manifested to-night," he went on presently, "that praise should go to Loisette alone. He has said – that wise Frenchman – that 'the likeness of events acting upon a highly strung and overwrought mind is likely to produce exactly similar results.' There is his vindication before you. Last night all hope of happiness was smitten out of that poor girl's mind by the affair at Clavering Close and the certainty that she had lost the man she loves forever. This morning new hope came; this evening that new hope was dashed to earth again by her interview with this dear boy, and the future looked blacker and more hopeless than ever. The 'likeness of events' had come; there is the 'likeness of result' before you. Back into her ball dress, back into her cloak, back into everything that had to do with that other time; there she goes now back to Gleer Cottage as well!"

"God!" said Geoff, with a queer sort of sob; then leaned his curved arm against a tree trunk and hid his face in the crook of it. "And to think what I said to her, what I thought of her! I ought to be kicked for a brute. And yet I wouldn't have hurt her for all the world – my dear, dear girl!"

"Buck up, my boy, buck up!" said Cleek, patting him on the shoulder, "The world can do with all the brutes of your kind that can be created; for they make good sons, good husbands, and loyal gentlemen! She said, did she not, that she would 'show you something that would light the way back to the land of happiness'? Well, she's doing it, my boy; and if you were to follow her this minute you'd find history repeating itself down to the smallest detail. Only, you mustn't follow her; you mustn't let history repeat itself, Clavering. Gleer Cottage is not in the same lonely and unwatched state to-night that it was in last night. The police are there. They mustn't see what happens, because I've a fancy for keeping some things with regard to this case off the annals of Scotland Yard and out of the courts of England. You must stop her, you and Miss Lorne."

"Stop her? How? Isn't it dangerous to wake a sleep-walker?"

"Yes, if it's done rudely. But people in that condition will answer questions, and – Who spoke first, when you met last night?"

"Why, I did, of course. I was so bowled over when I looked up and recognized her that I said: 'Kathie! Great Scott, is it you?' before I thought. That's how she came to speak to me."

"Then go and say it again," advised Cleek. "When she answers, suggest to her that you sit down and wait for a moment, as you promised you would do, until Miss Lorne could join you. Once she sits, be sure the desire to walk will pass away; she will gradually sink into the natural position for sleeping and will sleep soundly for a time. As for the rest, you may rely upon the coldness and the hardness of the earth to half arouse her, and it will be but a step from that to complete wakefulness if Miss Lorne begins to sing very, very softly and to rustle the leaves as she comes up and joins you both. Now then, off with you, my boy, and move as softly as you can until you come up with her and speak."

Geoff did not hesitate. He only paused to look back at Cleek and say: "By Jove, you know, you are a ripping chap!" and then was off on tiptoe after Lady Katharine.

Watching, they saw him come up with her at last, and knew when he spoke by the manner in which she stopped and looked round at him; they saw her put a finger to her lips and nod and beckon, and knew when he spoke again and suggested the things that Cleek had advised, by the listless manner in which she let her hands drop, the wavering uncertain way in which she stood swaying and looking straight before her.

Then, after a moment or two – they could have cheered had they dared – they saw her look round in the direction of a little knoll to which Geoff pointed and then placidly turn and walk with him toward it.

"Oh, what a dear, dear friend you are!" said Ailsa, impulsively, as she looked round and up at Cleek, with tears in her eyes and a face all smiling. "I wonder which is your greater side – your shrewdness or your humanity?"

"I can tell you which is my weaker one," he smiled, looking down upon her with eyes that spoke to hers. "And maybe, some day if you will let me do so – But that's another story, as our friend Mr. Kipling puts it. Wait! Don't go yet, Miss Lorne. Before you start to join them and to play your little part in the drama of Lady Katharine's awaking, there's one more favour to be asked. Afterward you will understand why I ask this thing; for the present I want only your promise that you will unquestioningly obey. Will you give me that promise? Thank you, I felt sure that you would.

"You know the old saying: a bird that can sing and won't sing must be made to sing. Equally, then, a door that can be opened and will not open by persuasion or by threats, must be compelled to open by trickery and craft. I am going to commit an act of violence under the roof of Wuthering Grange to-night, Miss Lorne. I'm going to do a thing that men get sent to prison for, and justly, too, if they are found out; only that I am not going to carry my act into full completion: merely make a bluff at it, as it were.

"Meanwhile I want you to promise me that as soon as you have awakened Lady Katharine and have made her understand that she did go to Gleer Cottage last night and really has been walking in her sleep, you will find a pretext – you and Geoff Clavering, between you – to get her as far from the neighbourhood as possible for the next two or three hours. Yes, Clavering Close will do. Any place will do so that neither she nor he is within hailing distance of this house when my 'act of violence' is committed. Try to do this if possible, Miss Lorne; more than you dream of hinges upon it. In any case, promise me that no matter what excitement is created you will not venture near the house and will prevail upon them not to do so either. Will you?"

"Yes, certainly I will. And if I tell Geoff that it is your wish, I'm sure I may promise for him as well."

"Thank you. That's all. Now I'll be off about my business. You see" – nodding in the direction of the paddock – "Geoff has persuaded her to sit. Good luck to your little 'singing tour,' and God bless you. Good-bye. This way, Dollops! Move sharp!"

Speaking, he swung off into the darkness, with the boy following close upon his heels, and forged on in the direction of the wall angle, there to wait until his instructions were acted upon and it was time for him to play his last great card.

And lo, as they went, a sweet, soft voice rose in murmuring melody behind them and they could just distinguish the words, "Kathleen Mavourneen, the gray dawn is breaking," so softly Ailsa sang them as she passed on in the direction of the paddock stile.

"A good, true woman that, Dollops," said Cleek, pausing to listen. "And there's nothing better in heaven or out of it than a good woman, my lad. Always remember that."

"Yes, sir," said Dollops softly and refraining from further comment.

Cleek laughed to himself as they took the angle path again. "I know the secret of the universe at last, my lad," he said softly. "The way to heaven is through a good woman's eyes!" Then he laughed again, and spoke no more until they were at their journey's end.

"Now, then, my embryo Vidocq," he began, halting in the shadow of the wall angle and laying a gentle hand on Dollops's shoulder, "a word or two with you. I think you told me earlier in the evening that Mr. Narkom had gone back to town, did you not? Did he say if he'd be returning to Wimbledon to-night or not? I fancy he will be likely to, considering his interest in the Claverings, but did he say he would?"

"Yes, sir. Said he'd be back somewheres between nine and ten, sir; that he'd drop in at the police station, and if there was a need for him, he said I'd find him there."

"Right you are! Well, there is a need for him, Dollops; for him and for the limousine, too. So off with you, my boy, and tell him to be here, at this spot, as quickly as he can; and to be ready when I call for him. Now then," said Cleek, opening the wall door, "off with you as fast as you can travel."

For some minutes Cleek stood in deep thought, then he turned and walked quickly back into the house. He had made up his mind to beard Lord St. Ulmer in his room, and his quick brain was intent on a plan by which he should secure an entry. Three minutes later he stood outside the door and placed a bunch of extinguished matches at the foot of it, while he called softly but piercingly.

"Lord St. Ulmer! Quick! Quick! Fire! The place is on fire."

His heart pounded as he waited, for if the man were asleep his efforts would be fruitless. Suddenly, however, there came a faint sound to his straining ears, and again he whispered in that sibilant whisper:

"Lord St. Ulmer, fire!"

He did not have time to repeat it, for there came the sound as of an extremely agile man leaping from his bed, and another moment he heard the snick of an unfastened lock, then the door opened.

Cleek waited not a second, his foot was in the narrow aperture, and he was through the door and had switched on the light before the other man had realized what had happened. Then he gave vent to a little low laugh of triumph as with his back against the closed door he surveyed the white-faced man who had retreated to the middle of the room.

"Good evening! Citizen Paul, good brother Apache, so it is you, is it?" he said airily. "Let us have a quiet little understanding, mon ami. You need not be distressed. There is no fire. It is merely a bluff. What! You do not know me. But wait! Look!" The serene face writhed suddenly, and it was as if another man took his place. "Ever see a chap that looked like this, friend Paul, eh?"

"God! The Cracksman!"

"The identical party!" acknowledged Cleek blandly. "Come! I want to have a few minutes' talk with you, my friend, and – Stop! Don't back away! Stop and face me. By God! you'll hang for last night's business if you don't!"

CHAPTER THIRTY

NEARING THE TRUTH!

It was one o'clock when Mr. Maverick Narkom, pacing uneasily up and down the narrow strip of turf just outside the boundary wall of Wuthering Grange, saw the door at the wall angle flash open and shut again, and without so much as a murmur of sound looked up to find Cleek standing within a few paces of him.

"My dear fellow! Gad, I never was so glad to see anybody in all my days," exclaimed the superintendent, swooping down on him in a little whirlwind of excitement. "Cinnamon! You'll never guess what's happened, Cleek, never! After all my instructions, those blundering idiots of local police were too late to catch Margot and her crew at Wimbledon, the house where young Raynor visited, as you wrote me. I went down myself directly Dollops brought me your note, but it was too late, the police had frightened her in some way – "

"It does not matter," said Cleek calmly. "I have come to the end of the riddle."

"The end?" gasped Mr. Narkom. "The end! Man alive, tell me who – "

"Patience, my friend; perhaps I ought not to have said that yet, some few things remain to be discovered, but the first thing to do is to carry out the murderer's message before it is too late, or the letters get into the wrong hands."

"Whose letters?" exclaimed Mr. Narkom, naturally bewildered.

"The woman who lured Count de Louvisan, though that is not his name, to his death, Lady Clavering – "

"Lady Clav – Heavens, man, what possible motive could she have?"

"We shall see, my friend, if my ideas are right. Call up Lennard and the limousine and let us go down to the cottage. With one more thread in my hand, and then to-night will see the knot unravelled."

With this Mr. Narkom was fain to be content, and once in the car, the few minutes that elapsed before they reached Gleer Cottage were passed in silence. At the gate, when the limousine drew up, Cleek aroused himself from his reverie.

"Mr. Narkom, get the constables stationed on duty near that room out of the way. Put them outside somewhere where they won't be able to see or hear what goes on at the back of the house. Then make an excuse of having to examine the body in reference to some new evidence that's just cropped up. I'll join you there in one minute."

Mr. Narkom gave a nod of comprehension and vanished up the path, leaving his great ally to carry out his plans in his own inimitable fashion.

That was the last the superintendent saw of him until full twenty minutes later when, with his customary soundlessness, he came up out of the gloom of the neglected garden, entered the rear door of the cottage, and joined him in the room where the body of the dead man still hung, spiked to the wall, with knees bent, head lolling, and the lantern in Narkom's hand splashing a grotesque shadow of him on the side of the chimney breast.

Cleek walked over to that ghastly human crucifix and regarded the dead man bitterly, his lips puckered, and his whole expression one of unspeakable contempt.

"So it has come to this at last, has it, De Morcerf?" he said, half audibly. "Well, was it worth the price, do you think? Peace to you, or, at least, such peace as you deserve. You've paid your scot and passed out eternally. As for the rest – Mr. Narkom!"

"Yes, old chap?"

"I noticed last night, when I was down on my knees following the trail of the Huile Violette, that there was a section of the flooring which has evidently been raised lately, as it was fastened down with new nails. Locate the place for me – it's over their somewhere – and stand there while I do a little measuring and counting."

Narkom moved over in the direction indicated, searched about for a time with a magnifying glass, and finally announced the discovery of the place he had been set to look for.

"Good heavens above, old chap, how you notice things! Fancy your remarking that when you were looking for something totally different! I say what on earth are you doing?"

"Measuring," replied Cleek, stepping off the distance between the spot where the body hung and that where Narkom knelt. "Three feet, one yard; three yards – No, that won't do. 'Nine feet from the body' doesn't work out, so it's not that. Nine paces are impossible – room's too short – and nine boards – Hum-m-m! That's poorer than the rest – doesn't go half the way. Clearly then, if my theory is correct, it's not the body that's the starting point. How about the mantelpiece then? Let's have a try. Nine feet? No go! Nine boards, then? Oh, piffle! that's worse than ever. It leads off in a totally different direction. But stop a bit! These boards run up and down the room, not across it; and as it is undoubted that the measurement goes to the left, why, two and four make six. Hum-m-m! Six feet from the corner of the mantelpiece to – Hullo! that brings me exactly opposite to where you stand, doesn't it? And counting the board between us runs to – one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine! Exactly nine boards across the room! Got it, by Jupiter! Three paces from the body bring one to the mantelpiece. And paces are usually designated in a diagram by X's. And nine boards across the room does the trick! Letters, she said, letters! That was the first clue. Letters that might fall into Margot's hands; and as that dead wretch was Margot's ally once upon a time, and might threaten to give the things over to her if his demands were not acceded to – Victoria! He will have hidden them there, unless I'm the biggest kind of an ass, and can no longer put two and two together!"