CHAPTER IV
THE PINE WOOD
Brereton, standing back in the room, the cigar which Cotherstone hadjust given him unlighted in one hand, the glass which Lettie hadpresented to him in the other, was keenly watching the man who had justspoken and the man to whom he spoke. But all his attention was quicklyconcentrated on Cotherstone. For despite a strong effort to controlhimself, Cotherstone swayed a little, and instinctively put out a handand clutched Bent's arm. He paled, too--the sudden spasm of pallor wasalmost instantly succeeded by a quick flush of colour. He made anothereffort--and tried to laugh.
"Nonsense, man!" he said thickly and hoarsely. "Murder? Who should wantto kill an old chap like that? It's--here, give me a drink, one ofyou--that's--a bit startling!"
Bent seized a tumbler which he himself had just mixed, and Cotherstonegulped off half its contents. He looked round apologetically.
"I--I think I'm not as strong as I was," he muttered. "Overwork,likely--I've been a bit shaky of late. A shock like that----"
"I'm sorry," said Garthwaite, who looked surprised at the effect of hisnews. "I ought to have known better. But you see, yours is the nearesthouse----"
"Quite right, my lad, quite right," exclaimed Cotherstone. "You did theright thing. Here!--we'd better go up. Have you called the police?"
"I sent the man from the cottage at the foot of your garden," answeredGarthwaite. "He was just locking up as I passed, so I told him, and senthim off."
"We'll go," said Cotherstone. He looked round at his guests. "You'llcome?" he asked.
"Don't you go, father," urged Lettie, "if you're not feeling well."
"I'm all right," insisted Cotherstone. "A mere bit of weakness--that'sall. Now that I know what's to be faced--" he twisted suddenly onGarthwaite--"what makes you think it's murder?" he demanded. "Murder!That's a big word."
Garthwaite glanced at Lettie, who was whispering to Bent, and shook hishead.
"Tell you when we get outside," he said. "I don't want to frighten yourdaughter."
"Come on, then," said Cotherstone. He hurried into the hall and snatchedup an overcoat. "Fetch me that lantern out of the kitchen," he called tothe parlourmaid. "Light it! Don't you be afraid, Lettie," he went on,turning to his daughter. "There's naught to be afraid of--now. Yougentlemen coming with us?"
Bent and Brereton had already got into their coats: when the maid camewith the lantern, all four men went out. And as soon as they were inthe garden Cotherstone turned on Garthwaite.
"How do you know he's murdered?" he asked. "How could you tell?"
"I'll tell you all about it, now we're outside," answered Garthwaite."I'd been over to Spennigarth, to see Hollings. I came back over theShawl, and made a short cut through the wood. And I struck my footagainst something--something soft, you know--I don't like thinking ofthat! And so I struck a match, and looked, and saw this oldfellow--don't like thinking of that, either. He was laid there, a fewyards out of the path that runs across the Shawl at that point. I saw hewas dead--and as for his being murdered, well, all I can say is, he'sbeen strangled! That's flat."
"Strangled!" exclaimed Bent.
"Aye, without doubt," replied Garthwaite. "There's a bit of rope roundhis neck that tight that I couldn't put my little finger between it andhim! But you'll see for yourselves--it's not far up the Shawl. You neverheard anything, Mr. Cotherstone?"
"No, we heard naught," answered Cotherstone. "If it's as you say,there'd be naught to hear."
He had led them out of his grounds by a side-gate, and they were now inthe thick of the firs and pines which grew along the steep, somewhatrugged slope of the Shawl. He put the lantern into Garthwaite's hand.
"Here--you show the way," he said. "I don't know where it is, ofcourse."
"You were going straight to it," remarked Garthwaite. He turned toBrereton, who was walking at his side. "You're a lawyer, aren't you?" heasked. "I heard that Mr. Bent had a lawyer friend stopping with him justnow--we hear all the bits of news in a little place like Highmarket.Well--you'll understand, likely--it hadn't been long done!"
"You noticed that?" said Brereton.
"I touched him," replied Garthwaite. "His hand and cheek were--justwarm. He couldn't have been dead so very long--as I judged matters.And--here he is!"
He twisted sharply round the corner of one of the great masses oflimestone which cropped out amongst the trees, and turned the light ofthe lantern on the dead man.
"There!" he said in a hushed voice. "There!"
The four men came to a halt, each gazing steadily at the sight they hadcome to see. It needed no more than a glance to assure each that he waslooking on death: there was that in Kitely's attitude which forbade anyother possibility.
"He's just as I found him," whispered Garthwaite. "I came round thisrock from there, d'ye see, and my foot knocked against his shoulder.But, you know, he's been dragged here! Look at that!"
Brereton, after a glance at the body, had looked round at itssurroundings. The wood thereabouts was carpeted--thickly carpeted--withpine needles; they lay several inches thick beneath the trunks of thetrees; they stretched right up to the edge of the rock. And now, asGarthwaite turned the lantern, they saw that on this soft carpet therewas a great slur--the murderer had evidently dragged his victim someyards across the pine needles before depositing him behind the rock. Andat the end of this mark there were plain traces of a struggle--the soft,easily yielding stuff was disturbed, kicked about, upheaved, but asBrereton at once recognized, it was impossible to trace footprints init.
"That's where it must have been," said Garthwaite. "You see there's abit of a path there. The old man must have been walking along that path,and whoever did it must have sprung out on him there--where all thosemarks are--and when he'd strangled him dragged him here. That's how Ifigure it, Mr. Cotherstone."
Lights were coming up through the wood beneath them, glancing from pointto point amongst the trees. Then followed a murmur of voices, and threeor four men came into view--policemen, carrying their lamps, the manwhom Garthwaite had sent into the town, and a medical man who acted aspolice surgeon.
"Here!" said Bent, as the newcomers advanced and halted irresolutely."This way, doctor--there's work for you here--of a sort, anyway. Ofcourse, he's dead?"
The doctor had gone forward as soon as he caught sight of the body, andhe dropped on his knees at its side while the others gathered round. Inthe added light everybody now saw things more clearly. Kitely lay in aheap--just as a man would lie who had been unceremoniously thrown down.But Brereton's sharp eyes saw at once that after he had been flung atthe foot of the mass of rock some hand had disarranged his clothing. Hisovercoat and under coat had been torn open, hastily, if not withabsolute violence; the lining of one trousers pocket was pulled out;there were evidences that his waistcoat had been unbuttoned and itsinside searched: everything seemed to indicate that the murderer hadalso been a robber.
"He's not been dead very long," said the doctor, looking up. "Certainlynot more than three-quarters of an hour. Strangled? Yes!--and bysomebody who has more than ordinary knowledge of how quickly a man maybe killed in that way! Look how this cord is tied--no amateur did that."
He turned back the neckcloth from the dead man's throat, and showed theothers how the cord had been slipped round the neck in a running-knotand fastened tightly with a cunning twist.
"Whoever did this had done the same thing before--probably more thanonce," he continued. "No man with that cord round his neck, tightlyknotted like that, would have a chance--however free his hands might be.He'd be dead before he could struggle. Does no one know anything aboutthis? No more than that?" he went on, when he had heard what Garthwaitecould tell. "Well, this is murder, anyway! Are there no signs ofanything about here?"
"Don't you think his clothing looks as if he had been robbed?" saidBrereton, pointing to the obvious signs. "That should be noted beforehe's moved."
"I've noted that, sir," said the police-sergeant, who had bent over thebody while the doctor
was examining it. "There's one of his pocketsturned inside out, and all his clothing's been torn open. Robbery, ofcourse--that's what it's been--murder for the sake of robbery!"
One of the policemen, having satisfied his curiosity stepped back andbegan to search the surroundings with the aid of his lamp. He suddenlyuttered a sharp exclamation.
"Here's something!" he said, stooping to the foot of a pine-tree andpicking up a dark object. "An old pocket-book--nothing in it, though."
"That was his," remarked Cotherstone. "I've seen it before. He used tocarry it in an inner pocket. Empty, do you say?--no papers?"
"Not a scrap of anything," answered the policeman, handing the book overto his sergeant, and proceeding to search further. "We'd best to see ifthere's any footprints about."
"You'd better examine that path, then," said Garthwaite. "You'll find noprints on all this pine-needle stuff--naught to go by, anyway--it's toothick and soft. But he must have come along that path, one way oranother--I've met him walking in here of an evening, more than once."
The doctor, who had exchanged a word or two with the sergeant, turned toCotherstone.
"Wasn't he a tenant of yours?" he asked. "Had the cottage at the top ofthe Shawl here. Well, we'd better have the body removed there, and someone should go up and warn his family."
"There's no family," answered Cotherstone. "He'd naught but ahousekeeper--Miss Pett. She's an elderly woman--and not likely to bestartled, from what I've seen of her."
"I'll go," said Bent. "I know the housekeeper." He touched Brereton'selbow, and led him away amongst the trees and up the wood. "This is astrange affair!" he continued when they were clear of the others. "Didyou hear what Dr. Rockcliffe said?--that whoever had done it wasfamiliar with that sort of thing!"
"I saw for myself," replied Brereton. "I noticed that cord, and the knoton it, at once. A man whose neck was tied up like that could be throwndown, thrown anywhere, left to stand up, if you like, and he'd beliterally helpless, even if, as the doctor said, he had the use of hishands. He'd be unconscious almost at once--dead very soon afterwards.Murder?--I should think so!--and a particularly brutal and determinedone. Bent!--whoever killed that poor old fellow was a man of greatstrength and of--knowledge! Knowledge, mind you!--he knew the trick. Youhaven't any doubtful character in Highmarket who has ever lived inIndia, have you?"
"India! Why India?" asked Bent.
"Because I should say that the man who did that job has learned some ofthe Indian tricks with cords and knots," answered Brereton. "Thatmurder's suggestive of Thuggeeism in some respects. That the cottage?"he went on, pointing to a dim light ahead of him. "This housekeeper,now?--is she the sort who'll take it quietly?"
"She's as queer a character as the old fellow himself was," repliedBent, as they cleared the wood and entered a hedge-enclosed garden atthe end of which stood an old-fashioned cottage. "I've talked to her nowand then when calling here--I should say she's a woman of nerve."
Brereton looked narrowly at Miss Pett when she opened the door. Shecarried a tallow candle in one hand and held it high above her head tothrow a light on the callers; its dim rays fell more on herself than onthem. A tall, gaunt, elderly woman, almost fleshless of face, and with askin the colour of old parchment, out of which shone a pair of brightblack eyes; the oddity of her appearance was heightened by herhead-dress--a glaring red and yellow handkerchief tightly folded in sucha fashion as to cover any vestige of hair. Her arms, bare to the elbow,and her hands were as gaunt as her face, but Brereton was quick torecognize the suggestion of physical strength in the muscles and sinewsunder the parchment-like skin. A strange, odd-looking woman altogether,he thought, and not improved by the fact that she appeared to have lostall her teeth, and that a long, sharp nose and prominent chin almost metbefore her sunken lips.
"Oh, it's you, is it, Mr. Bent?" she said, before either of the youngmen could speak. "Mr. Kitely's gone out for his regular bedtimeconstitution--he will have that, wet or fine, every night. But he's muchlonger than usual, and----"
She stopped suddenly, seeing some news in Bent's face, and her owncontracted to a questioning look.
"Is there aught amiss?" she asked. "Has something happened him? Aughtthat's serious? You needn't be afraid to speak, Mr. Bent--there'snaught can upset or frighten me, let me tell you--I'm past all that!"
"I'm afraid Mr. Kitely's past everything, too, then," said Bent. Helooked steadily at her for a moment, and seeing that she understood,went on. "They're bringing him up, Miss Pett--you'd better make ready.You won't be alarmed--I don't think there's any doubt that he's beenmurdered."
The woman gazed silently at her visitors; then, nodding her turbanedhead, she drew back into the cottage.
"It's what I expected," she muttered. "I warned him--more than once.Well--let them bring him, then."
She vanished into a side-room, and Bent and Brereton went down thegarden and met the others, carrying the dead man. Cotherstone followedbehind the police, and as he approached Bent he pulled him by the sleeveand drew him aside.
"There's a clue!" he whispered. "A clue, d'ye hear--a strong clue!"