CHAPTER XVII. A DECLARATION
Dunn knew very well that he ought to give immediate information to theauthorities of what had happened.
But he did not. He told himself that nothing could help poor JohnClive, and that any precipitate action on his part might still fatallycompromise his plans, which were now so near completion.
But his real reason was that he knew that if he came forward he would bevery closely questioned, and sooner or later forced to tell the thingshe knew so terribly involving Ella.
And he knew that to surrender her to the police and proclaim her to theworld as guilty of such things were tasks beyond his strength; though,to himself, with a touch of wildness in his thoughts, he said thatno proved and certain guilt should go unpunished even though his ownhand--It was a train of ideas he did not pursue.
"Charley Wright first and now John Clive," he said to himself. "But theend is not yet."
Again he would not let his thoughts go on but checked them abruptly.
In this dark and troubled mood he went out to busy himself with thegarden, and all the time he worked he watched with a sort of vertigo ofhorror where Ella sat in the sunshine by her mother's side, her whitehands moving nimbly to and fro upon her needlework.
It was not long, however, before the tragedy of the wood was discovered,for Clive had been seen to go in that direction, and when he did notreturn a search was made that was soon successful.
The news was brought to Bittermeads towards evening by a tradesman'sboy, who came up from the village to bring something that had beenordered from there.
"Have you heard?" he said to Dunn excitedly. "Mr. Clive's been shot deadby poachers."
"Oh--by poachers?" repeated Dunn.
"Yes, poachers," the boy answered, and went on excitedly to tell histale with many, and generally very inaccurate, details.
But that the crime had been discovered and instantly set down topoachers was at least certain, and Dunn realized at once that theadoption of this simple and apparently plausible theory would put an endto all really careful investigation of the circumstances and make thediscovery of the truth highly improbable.
For the idea that the murder was the work of poachers would, when onceadopted, fill the minds of the police and of every one else, and nosuspicion would be directed elsewhere.
By the tremendous relief he felt, Dunn understood how heavy had been theburden of fear and apprehension that till now had oppressed him.
If he had not found that handkerchief--if he had not secured thatletter--why, by now the police would be at Bittermeads.
"All the same," he thought. "No one who is guilty shall escape throughme."
But what this phrase meant, and what he intended to do, he would notpermit himself to think out clearly or try to understand.
The boy, having told his story, hurried off to spread the news elsewhereto more appreciative ears, for, he thought disgustedly, it mighthave been just nothing at all for all the interest the gardener atBittermeads had shown.
As soon as he was gone, Dunn went across to the house, and going up tothe window of the drawing-room where Ella and her mother were havingtea, he tapped on the pane.
Ella looked up and saw him, and came at once to open the window, whilefrom behind Mrs. Dawson frowned in severe disapproval of what sheconsidered a great liberty.
"Mr. Clive has been shot," Dunn said abruptly. "They say poachers didit. He was killed instantly."
Ella did not seem at first to understand. She looked puzzled andbewildered, and did not seem to grasp the full import of his words.
"What--what do you say?" she asked. "Mr. Clive--Who's killed?"
Dunn thought to himself that her acting was the most wonderful thing hehad ever seen.
It was extraordinary that she should be able to make that grey pallorcome over her cheeks as though the meaning of what he said were only nowentering her mind; wonderful that she should be able so well to give theidea of a great horror and a great doubt coming slowly into her startledeyes.
"Mr. Clive?" she said again.
"Yes, he's been killed," Dunn said. "By poachers, apparently."
"What is that? What is that man saying?" shrilled Mrs. Dawson frombehind. "Mr. Clive--John--why, he was here yesterday."
Dunn turned his back and walked away. He heard Ella call after him, buthe would not look back because he feared what he might do if he obeyedher call.
With an odd buzzing in his ears, with the blood throbbing through hisbrain as though something must soon break there, he walked blindly on,and as he came to the gate of Bittermeads he saw a motor-car coming upthe road.
It was Deede Dawson's car, and he was driving it, and by his side sat asulkily-smiling stranger, his air that of one not sure of his welcome,but determined to enforce it, in whom, with a quick start, Dunnrecognized his burglar, the man whose attempt to break into Bittermeadshe had frustrated, and whose place he had taken.
He put up his hand instinctively for them to stop, and Deede Dawson atonce obeyed the gesture.
Dunn noticed that the smile upon his lips was more gentle and winningthan ever, the look in his eyes more dark and menacing.
"Well, Dunn, what is it?" he said as pleasantly as he always spoke. "Mr.Allen," he added to his companion, "this is my man, Dunn, I toldyou about, my gardener and chauffeur, and a very industrious steadyfellow--and quite trustworthy."
He seemed to lay a certain emphasis on the last two words, and Allenput his head on one side and looked at Dunn with an odd, mixture offamiliarity, suspicion, hesitation, and an uncertain assumption ofsuperiority, but with no hint of recognition showing.
"Glad to hear it," he said. "You always want to know whom you cantrust."
"Mr. Clive has been murdered," Dunn said abruptly. "Poachers, it issaid. Did you know?"
"We heard about it as we came through the village," answered DeedeDawson. "Very sad, very dreadful. It will be a great shock to poor Ella,I fear. Take the car on to the garage, will you?" he added.
He drove on up the drive, and at the front door they alighted andentered the house together. Dunn followed, and getting into the car,drove it to the garage, where he busied himself cleaning it. As heworked he wondered very much what was the meaning of this suddenappearance on terms of friendship with Deede Dawson of this man Allen,whom he had last seen trying to break into the house at night.
Was Allen an accomplice of Deede Dawson, or a dupe, or, more probably, anew recruit?
At any rate, to Dunn it seemed that the crisis he had expected andprepared for was now fast approaching, and he told himself that if hehad failed in Clive's case, those others he was working for he must notfail to save.
"Looks as if Dawson's plans were nearly ready," he said to himself."Well, so are mine."
He finished his work and shutting the garage door, he was turning awaywhen he saw Ella coming towards him.
She was extremely pale, and her eyes seemed larger than ever, and verybright against the deathly whiteness of her cheeks.
She was wearing a blouse that was cut a little low, and he notice with akind of terror how soft and round was her throat, like a column of paleand perfect ivory.
He hoped she would not speak to him, for he thought perhaps he could notbear it if she did, but she halted near by, and said:
"This is very dreadful about poor Mr. Clive."
"Very," he answered moodily.
"Why should poachers kill him?" she asked. "Why should they want to?"
"I don't know," he answered, watching not her but her soft throat, wherehe could see a pulse fluttering. "Perhaps it wasn't poachers," he added.
She started violently, and gave a quick look that seemed to make yetmore certain the certainty he already entertained.
"Who else could it be?" she asked in a low voice.
He did not answer.
After what seemed a long time she said:
"You asked me a question once--do you remember?"
He shook his head.
"Why do
n't you speak? Why can't you speak?" she cried angrily. "Whycan't you say something instead of just shaking your head?"
"You see, I've asked you so many questions," he said slowly. "Perhaps Ishall ask you some more some day--which question do you mean?"
"I mean when you asked me if I had ever met any one who spoke in a veryshrill, high whistling sort of voice? Do you remember?"
"Yes," he said. "You wouldn't tell me."
"Well, I will now," she said. "I did meet a man once with a voice likethat. Do you remember the night you, came here that I drove away in thecar with a packing-case you carried downstairs?"
"Do I--remember?" he gasped, for that memory, and the thought of how shehad driven away into the night with, that grisly thing behind her on thecar had never since left his mind by night or by day.
"Yes," she exclaimed impatiently. "Why do you keep staring so? Are youas stupid as you choose to look? Do you remember?"
"I remember," he answered heavily. "I remember very well."
"Well, then, the man I took that packing-case to had a voice just likethat--high and shrill, whistling almost."
"I thought as much," said Dunn. "May I ask you another question?"
She nodded.
"May I smoke?"
She nodded again with a touch of impatience.
He took a cigarette from his pocket and put it in his mouth and lighteda match, but the match, when he had lighted it, he used to put light toa scrap of folded paper with writing on it, like a note.
This piece of paper he used to light his cigarette with and when hehad done so he watched the paper burn to an ash, not dropping it to theground till the little flame stung his fingers.
The ash that had fallen he ground into the path where they stood withthe heel of his boot.
"What have you burned there?" she asked, as if she suspected it wassomething of importance he had destroyed.
In fact it was the note that had fallen from dead John Clive's handwherein Ella had asked him to meet her at the oak where he had met hisdeath.
That bit of paper would have been enough, Dunn thought, to place a harshhempen noose about the soft white throat he watched where the littlepulse still fluttered up and down. But now it was burnt and utterlydestroyed, and no one would ever see it.
At the thought he laughed and she drew back, very startled.
"Oh, what is the matter?" she exclaimed.
"Nothing," he answered. "Nothing in all the world except that I loveyou."