CHAPTER XXI
IN LONDON AGAIN
"Then the sudden change in the police attitude towards Eric," saidIsobel, "is not due to any discoveries which you or Inspector Gattonhave made at Friar's Park?"
"That I cannot say," I replied. "We have made certain discoveries as Ihave already told you, but whilst they distinctly point to somecriminal whose identity is not yet fully established, unfortunately Icannot say that in a legal sense they clear Coverly."
Isobel, as I had thought at the first moment of our meeting, lookedvery tired and had that pathetic expression of appeal in her eyeswhich had hurt me so much when first it had appeared there on themorning after the tragedy. She was palpably ill at ease, and I hadsmall cause to wonder at this. Although a veiled paragraph (in which Ithought I could detect the hand of Gatton) had appeared in the presson the previous day, briefly stating that evidence had beenvolunteered by Sir Eric Coverly which had led to an entirely new lineof police inquiry, the item of news--which had naturally excitedwide-spread interest--had never been amplified. Amid the alarms andexcursions which had terminated my visit to Upper Crossleys, Gatton Isupposed had forgotten to refer to this matter; but I did not doubtthat the paragraph was an inspired one issued from Scotland Yard.
My friend's object in circulating this statement was not by any meansevident to me, but as I expected to see him later that day I hoped tobe able to obtain from him some explanation of his new tactics.
Many hours had elapsed since, with the flames of the burning BellHouse reddening the night behind me, and throwing into lurid reliefthe fir-groves surrounding Dr. Damar Greefe's mysterious stronghold, Ihad been borne along the road towards London. That Gatton had hopedfor much from a detailed search of the Eurasian's establishment, Iknew, for I had not forgotten his anger at the appearance of theflames above the tree tops which had told of the foiling of his plans.
Under cover of the conflagration the cunning Eurasian had escaped.Every possible means had been taken to intercept him, and whilstGatton, inspired by I know not what hopes, had hastened to the burningBell House, I had set out in the police car in pursuit of Dr. DamarGreefe accompanied by Detective-Sergeant Blythe--upon whom,apparently, the onus of the fiasco rested.
In despite of these measures, the hunted man had made good hisretreat; and Blythe and I had entered the outskirts of London withoutonce sighting the car in which Dannar Greefe had fled.
No communication reached me on the following morning, and I foundmyself, consumed with impatient curiosity, temporarily out of touchwith Gatton. Then, shortly after mid-day, came a telegram:
"Endeavor induce Sir Eric come to your house eight to-night. Will meethim there. Gatton."
Welcoming any ground for action--since to remain passive at such atime was torture--I called at once at Coverly's chambers. He was out.But I left an urgent written message for him, and in the hope offinding him with Isobel, hurried to her flat. He had not been therethat day, however; and now I could only hope that he would return tohis rooms in time to keep the appointment. For that Gatton had somegood reason for suggesting the meeting I did not doubt.
Gatton and I were now agreed that Dr. Damar Greefe, if not directlyresponsible for the death of Sir Marcus, at least had been anaccessory to his murder. At any rate he had shown his hand; firstly,in the attempted assault upon myself by his Nubian servant andsecondly, by the devilish device whereby he had propelled some sort ofgas projectile (for this we now knew it to have been) from the towerof Friar's Park into my room at the Abbey Inn. I had, then, becomeobnoxious to him; he evidently regarded my continued existence as amenace to his own.
Two explanations of his attitude presented themselves: one, that myinquiries had led me daily nearer to the heart of the mystery; or,two, that the doctor's mysterious associate, the possessor of thegreen eyes, had adopted an attitude towards myself which the Eurasianhad counted sooner or later as certain to compromise him. In short,whilst it was sufficiently evident to me that these mysterious peopleresiding at Upper Crossleys were the criminals for whom New ScotlandYard was searching, no definite link between their admittedlydangerous activities and the crime we sought to unravel, had yet beenbrought to light.
On the other hand, whilst it was not feasible to suppose that anyrelationship existed between Sir Eric, the new baronet, and theEurasian, or the woman associated with the Eurasian, I was quite wellaware that, equally, there was no evidence to show that such anassociation did not exist.
I longed to be able to offer some consolation to Isobel, who at thistime was passing through days and nights of dreadful apprehension; butbeyond imparting to her some of my own personal convictions, I wasunable to say honestly that the complicity of Coverly in the murderwas definitely and legally disproved.
"If only he would break his absurd silence," she said suddenly. "Thisridiculous suspicion which still seems to be entertained in somequarters would be removed of course; but his every act since the nightof the tragedy has only intensified it."
She sat facing me on the settee, her hands locked in her lap, and:
"Do you refer to any new act of his," I asked, "with which I am not atpresent acquainted?"
She nodded slowly.
"Yes," she said; "but I can only tell you in confidence, for it issomething which Inspector Gatton does not know."
"Please tell me," I urged; "for you are aware that I have no otherobject but the clearing of Coverly in the eyes of the police and thepublic."
"Well," she continued, with hesitation, "last night he lodged with mea copy of a _declaration_ which he assured me cleared him entirely.But he imposed an extraordinary condition."
"What was that?" I asked with interest.
"It was only to be used in the event of the worst happening!" shesaid.
"What do you mean? In the event of his being put on trial for murder?"
Isobel nodded.
"I suppose so," she said sadly; "it seems madness, doesn't it?"
"Absolute madness!" I agreed. "If he is in a position to establish analibi why not do it now and be done with the whole unsavory business?"
"That is exactly what I pointed out to him, but he was adamant on thematter and became dreadfully irritable and excited. I did not dare topress the point, so of course--" She shrugged her shouldersresignedly.
Was it a selfish joy, I wonder, which possessed me as I noted therestrained impatience with which Isobel spoke of Coverly? I suppose itwas, and perhaps it was even indefensible; yet I record it, desiringto be perfectly honest with myself and with others. Nevertheless, inthe near future I was to regret the sentiments which at that moment Ientertained towards Coverly. But how was I to know in my poor humanblindness that his innocence would soon be established in the eyes ofthe world by other means than the publication of the statement whichhe had so strangely placed with Isobel?
Since, excepting the telegram, no communication had reached me fromGatton, I could only assume that he had discovered nothing in theruins of the Bell House of sufficient importance to justify a report.Doubtless he had reported to New Scotland Yard, but that hisdiscoveries, if any, had not resulted in an arrest, was painfullyevident.
My latest contribution to the _Planet_ had been in the nature of adiscursive essay rather than an informative article, although I hadenlivened it with some account of my experiences at Upper Crossleys.But at the moment that I had set pen to paper I had realized thedifficulty of expressing, within the scope of a newspapercontribution, the peculiar conditions which ruled in that oddlydeserted village. And at Gatton's request I had been most guarded inmy treatment of the two abortive attempts made upon my own life by theEurasian doctor.
The appeal in Isobel's eyes, as I have said, was very difficult toresist, but after all I had little substantial consolation to offer;and in the circumstances I shall be understood, I think, when I saythat it was with an odd sense of relief that I finally took mydeparture from her flat. To long for the right to comfort a woman asonly a lover may do, and to suspect that this sweet privil
ege mighthave been his for the asking, is a torture which no man can sufferunmoved.
Anticipating, almost hourly, a further message from Gatton, I wentfirst to the _Planet_ offices, but although I lunched at the club andreturned later, no news reached me there; whereupon, I proceeded to mycottage. As I walked down the high-street of the onetime village,passing that police-box at which (so far as my part in it wasconcerned) the first scenes of the drama actually had been laid, I wasseized with wonder on reflecting that all these episodes, strange andtragic, had been crowded into so short a space of time.
An officer was on duty there as on the night when I had first madeacquaintance with the green eyes of the woman of mystery; but I didnot know the man and I walked on deep in meditation, until, arrivingat the Red House, other and dreadful reflections were aroused by thesight of that deserted building.
There were no spectators to-day, for the first excitement aroused bythe crime had begun to subside, and I did not even notice a constableposted there. Whereby I concluded that the investigations at the RedHouse had been terminated and that no more was hoped for from anexamination of those premises.
Coates was awaiting me as I entered my cottage with the news thatInspector Gatton had telephoned an hour before from Crossleys,confirming his telegram and stating that he would call immediately hearrived in London. This was stimulating, and I only regretted that Ihad not been at home personally to speak to him. Then:
"Sir Eric Coverly also rang up, sir," continued Coates, "at aboutthree o'clock and said that he would be calling this evening at eightin accordance with your request."
I looked at the military figure standing bolt upright just within thedoorway.
"Good. Is that all?" I asked.
"That was all the message, sir," he reported.
I walked into the study in a very thoughtful mood, and from the openwindow contemplated that prospect of tree-lined road, now for ever tobe associated in my mind with the darkest places in the tragedy inwhich I had so strangely become involved.
Gatton, I knew, entertained a theory that the selection of the RedHouse for the dreadful purpose for which it had been employed, was notthe result of any mere accident, but was ascribable to the fact thatthe place was conveniently situated from the point of view of theassassin. In short, he had an idea that the London headquarters of thewanted man, whom we had now definitely invested with the personalityof Dr. Damar Greefe, was somewhere within my immediate neighborhood!
It was a startling conclusion and one which rested, as I thought, uponsomewhat slender premises; but nevertheless I found it disquieting.And recognizing how the more sinister manifestations of that singulargreen-eyed creature (whom I could never think of as a woman, norindeed regard as anything quite human) were associated withdarkness--a significantly feline trait--I confess to a certainapprehension respecting the coming night. This apprehension wasstrengthened no doubt by my memories of Gatton's last words as I hadbeen on the point of setting out from Upper Crossleys.
"With their Friar's Park base destroyed, Mr. Addison," he had said,"they will be forced to fly to that other abode, at present unknown,from which I believe they conducted the elaborate assassination of SirMarcus. The only alternative is flight from the country, and themechanism of the C.I.D. having been put into motion, this we mayregard as almost impossible--especially in view of the markedpersonality of Dr. Damar Greefe. Of course," he had added, "they mayhave some other residence of which we know nothing but I incline tothe idea that they will make for London."
That the published paragraph relating to Eric Coverly's allegedevidence was in some way associated with this theory of Gatton's Iknew, but of the soundness of his theory I had yet to learn.
Since (as Isobel had that day informed me) the document lodged withher was a profound secret from all, Carton's inspired paragraph couldhave been no more than a shot in the dark; and the fact that it hadhit the mark one of those seeming coincidences which sometimes restupon mere chance, but which rested, in this case upon a process ofcareful reasoning. The Inspector was certain, as I was certain, ofCoverly's innocence, and he had credited him with an alibi because heknew that if he would but consent to break his inexplicable silence,he was in a position to establish one. Why he had forestalled CoverlyI knew not.
I made a poor and hasty dinner, for I was too excited to eat, andreturning to the study, I crossed to the bookcase and took downMaspero's "Egyptian Art." I idly glanced again through those passageswhich Gatton had copied into his note-book--the passages relating tothe attributes of Bast, the cat-goddess. My mind rested particularly,I remember, upon the line, "she plays with her victim as with amouse."
Stifling a somewhat weary sigh, I returned the book to its place andlingered looking out of the open window into the deepening dusk.Mentally my mood was a restless one, but it did not reflect itselfphysically; for I stood there leaning against the window whilst aprocession of all the figures associated with the "_Oritoga_ mystery"raced through my mind.
And presently as I stood there contemplating a mental image of theEurasian doctor, I heard the telephone bell ring. The sound aroused mein a moment, and walking out into the little ante-room in which theinstrument was placed, I took it up--anticipating Coates, who hadimmediately come in from the garden where he was engaged at the time.
"Hello!" I said.
A voice with which I was unfamiliar, a man's voice speaking ratherthickly, replied:
"Is that Mr. Addison?"
"Yes."
"I have just arrived from Crossleys with Inspector Gatton. He requestsme to ask you to meet him by the police-box at the corner of the highstreet immediately."
"Very good," I said. "I will come."
"And," continued the voice--"could you spare Coates with the car foran hour?"
"Certainly," I replied. "For what do you want him?"
"If he will take the car to Denmark Hill Station and be there by aquarter past eight," continued the voice, "Detective-Sergeant Blythewill meet him. There is a large box," he added, "which InspectorGatton wishes to have taken to your house."
"Very well," I said. "Coates will start in ten minutes' time, and Iwill come along immediately to meet Inspector Gatton."
I replaced the telephone upon the little table and went out into thegarden, whither my man had returned.
"Coates," I said, "get out the Rover."
Coates immediately ceased his gardening operations and stood uprightin an attitude of attention.
"Very good, sir."
"You will just have time to get ready at the garage and return here toadmit Sir Eric Coverly at eight o'clock. I am going out, now, to meetInspector Gatton. But inform Sir Eric that I shall be back in a fewminutes. Show him into the study and make him comfortable. You willthen proceed in the Rover to Denmark Hill Station. You will meet therea man with a box--a detective from Scotland Yard who will makehimself known to you. His name is Blythe. You have to bring the boxback here."
"Very good, sir," repeated Coates.
And as he entered the house he was already stripping off the oldshooting jacket which he wore in the garden. For my part I slipped alight top-coat over my somewhat untidy house attire, and taking my hatand a stick, stepped quickly out along the road in the direction ofthe village street. A brisk walk brought me to the little sentry-boxunder the trees. But Gatton was not to be seen. Indeed, with theexception of several ordinary pedestrians who were obviously returningfrom the city to their homes (all of whom I scrutinized, thinking thatCoverly might come this way) and the constable on duty at the point,there was no one about who looked in the least like either of myexpected visitors.
Having waited for some ten minutes unavailingly, I spoke to the man inthe box.
"Good evening, constable," I said; "I expected to meet a friendhere--Inspector Gatton, of Scotland Yard--you may know him?"
"I know of him quite well, sir," answered the constable, "and shouldrecognize him if I saw him. But he has not been here this evening."
"You have seen no
one hanging about who might have been sent by him?"
"No one, sir."
"Strange," I muttered; then: "My name is Addison, constable," I said,"and if any one should ask for me will you direct him to proceed tomy house?" And I gave the man instructions respecting its whereabouts.
"I will," answered the constable; and wishing him "good night," Iretraced my steps, curious respecting the matter, but not apprehensiveas I well might have been--and with no glimmering of the ghastly truthpenetrating to my mind.