CHAPTER IX
THE VELVET CURTAIN
"This gets me well out of my depth, Mr. Addison," said InspectorGatton.
We were standing in the garden at a point near to my open studywindow. A small flower-bed intervened between the path and the highprivet hedge. It lay much in shade, and Coates had set tobacco plantsthere. But the soil was softer here than elsewhere.
Clearly marked upon it were the imprints of little high-heeled shoes.
"It seems to take us back to the days of 'Spring-heeled Jack,'" myfriend continued; "which was before my time! I don't think _that_mystery was ever cleared up?"
"No," I replied, meeting his questioning glance; "it never was,satisfactorily. Therefore the analogy is an unfortunate one. But asyou say, it certainly looks as though my visitor had sprung across asix-foot hedge!"
"It's absolutely mad," said Gatton gloomily. "Far from helping us, itonly plunges us deeper in the mire."
We returned to the study, and:
"You will have seen the daily papers?" asked the Inspector.
I nodded.
"Practically all of them. They give a hateful prominence to the nameof Miss Merlin."
"And to that of the new baronet--Sir Eric," said Gatton significantly.
I stared at him straightly.
"Do you seriously believe," said I, "that Eric Coverly had anythingwhatever to do with the death of his cousin?"
Gatton stirred uneasily in his chair.
"Well," he answered, "ignoring everything else for the moment, whoelse benefits by Sir Marcus Coverly's death?"
It was a poser--a question which I had dreaded because I had known itto be unanswerable.
"He inherits the title," continued Gatton, "and on the death of LadyBurnham Coverly he inherits Friars' Park. There is some clause orentail, or legal hotchpotch whereby the estate and revenue remain hersduring her lifetime."
"But I understand the estate is mortgaged?"
"That I have to confirm, Mr. Addison," replied Gatton. "Sir Eric'ssolicitor has no information on the point and that of Sir Marcus's manof business is inexact. But even supposing that only the title isconcerned, many a man has lost his life for less. Then you have toconsider--Miss Merlin."
"In what way?" I demanded
"In relation to the attitude of Sir Marcus. Jealousy makes men (andwomen) do strange and desperate things. The character of Eric Coverly,the new baronet, is a very odd one."
"He is headstrong and in some respects weak," I admitted. "Butotherwise he is an ordinary English gentleman, with the traditions ofan old name and a public school to back him up. I tell you, Gatton,it's nonsense. His army career alone shows him to be a sound man."
"Yes," murmured Gatton; "he was awarded a decoration for distinguishedservice in Egypt."
That seemingly simple remark struck me with all the force of aphysical blow. Gatton began quietly to load his pipe, without evenglancing in my direction; but the covert significance of his words wasall too apparent:
"Gatton," I said--"what the devil are you driving at?"
He slightly shrugged his shoulders.
"What you may term the hocus-pocus side of the case," he replied,"turns on matters Egyptian, doesn't it? Very well. Who else, that weknow about, is associated, or ever has been associated with Egypt?"
"But--the woman?"
"Ah!" said Gatton. "Now you are getting down to the depths. Butassuming that the extraordinary characteristics of this visitor ofyours can be explained in some way, by deliberate trickery, forexample, might she not be a woman whom Eric Coverly met in Egypt?"
I stared silently a while, and then:
"In short, a rival of Miss Merlin's?" I suggested.
"Precisely. The trick with the photograph was just of the kind onewould expect from a madly jealous woman. Everything planned withsupreme cunning, but the scene at which the hated rival enters thescheme badly overdone."
"And you believe Coverly's silence to be due to the fact that he isshielding some one?"
"Well, that or shielding himself. What else can it mean? A mansuspected of murder doesn't hesitate to establish an alibi unless heis in a desperately tight corner. The exact position of yourstrange-eyed acquaintance in the case is not apparent to me at themoment, I'll admit, but I seem to have heard that there have been rareinstances of human beings with luminous eyes."
"Quite right, Inspector," I agreed; "I hope very shortly to have somefurther particulars for you bearing upon this point. I am endeavoringto obtain a work by Saint-Hilaire dealing with teratology."
"As to her extraordinary activity and agility," Gatton continued, "wemust remember that a privet hedge is not like a stone wall. I mean shemay not have actually cleared the whole six feet, and after all, thisis the age of the athletic girl. There are women athletes who canperform some extraordinary feats of high-jumping. Of course, there arestill a number of witnesses to be discovered and examined, but I knowby now exactly what to expect. It's an ingenious idea, although notentirely new to me.
"The whole thing has been managed by means of the telephone--apowerful ally of the modern criminal. Briefly what happened was this:The Red House--selected because of its lonely position, but alsobecause it was fairly accessible--was leased by our missing assassinwithout any personal interview taking place. We have to look then inthe first instance for some one possessing considerable financialresources. It was by the effective substitution of a year's rent--incash--for the more usual references, that our man--or woman--whom Iwill call 'A' secured possession of the keys and right of entry to thepremises. A limited amount of furniture was obtained in the samemanner. We haven't found the firm who supplied it, but I don't doubtthat the business was done over the telephone, cash being paid asbefore. Duplicate keys must have been made for some of the doors, Ithink--a simple matter. We shall find that the furnishing people aswell as the caterer who later on supplied the supper were admitted tothe Red House by a district messenger or else had the keys posted tothem for the purpose.
"The whole business was built up around a central idea, simple initself: that of inveigling Sir Marcus into the prepared supper-room.His attendance at the New Avenue Theater last night was doubtlessassured--although we may never prove it--by another of thesemysterious telephone messages, probably purporting to come from MissMerlin. The cold-blooded thoroughness with which 'A' arranged for acrate to be delivered at the garage and for the body of the murderedman to be taken to the docks and shipped to the West Indies,illuminates the character of the person we have to seek.
"Discovery sooner or later was inevitable, of course. It came soonerbecause of the accident at the docks. Had it come later I don't doubtthat 'A' would have dismantled the Red House again so that theinvestigation would have been severely handicapped. As it is, the onlydismantling done was the most important of all."
"You mean?" I said with keen interest.
"The death-machine," answered Gatton. "The cunning device around whichall these trappings were erected. We don't have to wait for thecoroner's inquest nor the pathologists' report to know that Sir Marcuswas asphyxiated."
"In that room where supper was laid for two?" I muttered.
"Can you doubt it?"
"No," I said, "and I don't."
"I have allowed nothing to be touched," continued Gatton, "and I amgoing around there now to make a final attempt to unravel the mysteryof how Sir Marcus met his death."
"There is one detail," said I, "which it seems impossible to fit intoits proper place in the scheme. The figure of Bast painted upon thecrate--you have that at Scotland Yard--and the little image of thegoddess which was stolen from my table last night."
Gatton stood up, uttering a sigh.
"I have always found, Mr. Addison," he replied, "that it is theseoutstanding features of a case, these pieces which don't seem to fit,that are the most valuable clews. It's the apparently simple cases inwhich there is no outstanding point that are the most baffling."
I laughed shortly.
"One
could not very well complain of the lack of such features in 'the_Oritoga_ mystery,'" I said. "As a confrere of mine remarked when thebody of Sir Marcus was discovered in the crate, the whole thing is asmad as 'Alice in Wonderland'!"
Gatton presently departed for the Red House and I accompanied him, forI was intensely curious to learn by what means the murder of SirMarcus had been accomplished. As I proposed later in the morning tocall on Isobel, Coates drove Gatton and myself as far as the Red Houseand I instructed the man to wait for me.
Although the morning was still young, the prominence given by thepress to this sensational crime had resulted in the presence of quitea considerable group of pilgrims who even thus early had arrived tolook upon the scene of the mysterious tragedy. London is a city ofonlookers. The most trivial street accident never lacks its interestedaudience, and a house in which a murder is reputed to have taken placebecomes a center upon which the idly curious focus from the fourpoints of the compass.
Our arrival created a subdued excitement amongst the nondescript groupgathered upon the pavement. Despite the efforts of a constable onduty, men, women and children persistently gathered before the gatesof the drive peering up at the empty house as if they anticipatedseeing the face of the murderer or an apparition of the victim appearbehind one of the windows. A considerable group, too, was gatheredbefore the garage, but as Gatton and I descended and began to walk upthe drive there was a general movement in our direction.
"I wonder," said I, "if 'A,' the wanted man, is among the crowd? Onereads that murderers are irresistibly drawn back to the scene of theircrimes."
"He may be," replied Gatton; "anyway there are two C.I.D. men therefor certain, so that 'A' will do well to be upon his guard."
A few moments later I found myself again in the lounge-hall of the RedHouse; and the place now seemed to me to have taken on an air ofoppressive mystery. In the very deserted silence of the house Idetected something sinister. Of course, no doubt this was merely aneffect created upon my mind by the ghastly associations of the place;but I know that whereas on the previous day surprise and curiosity hadbeen the most characteristic emotions aroused by our discoveriesthere, this morning something darker seemed to have taken their place;and I found myself listening for a sound that never came and wonderingvaguely and vainly, what secret was hidden in this desolate mansion.
By Gatton's orders the room in which that gruesome supper was laid hadbeen left undisturbed and once more we stood surveying the spotlessnapery and sparkling silver. I listened to the ticking of the clockupon the mantelpiece and stared dully at the wine resting in theice-pail which now contained nothing but dirty water. A big dish offruit stood upon the table, peaches and apricots and nectarines; andseveral large wasps had entered through one of the windows which someone had opened, and were buzzing sleepily around the dish.Lastly--there beside the clock stood Isobel's photograph.
For any evidence of a struggle I looked in vain, but the nature of mycompanion's investigation was more obscure. Again the whole of hisattention seemed to be directed upon the wall, the window-ledges andthe door-frame. Suddenly:
"Ah," I said, "I know what you are looking for! Some connectionbetween this room and the garage?"
Gatton, who was kneeling examining a lower panel of the door, lookedup with a grim smile.
"Perhaps I am," he replied.
By the tone of his voice I knew that whatever he had sought he hadfailed once more to find. Presently, desisting from this quest of his,he stood and stared curiously for some time at a recess immediatelybehind one of the high-backed chairs drawn up to the supper table. Wehad already explored this recess and had found it to be vacant. Gattonadvanced towards it and drew aside the curtain which was draped in theopening.
It was a recess about four feet wide by three deep and it containednothing in the nature of furniture or ornament.
"Does anything strike you as curious about this arrangement?" said mycompanion.
I looked for a long time, but failed to detect anything of a notablenature.
"Nothing," I said, "except that it seems a peculiar idea to drape acurtain before a recess in that way."
"And such a curtain!" said Gatton, fingering the texture.
I in turn touched the material with my fingers and found it to be anextremely heavy velvet. Looking upward, I noticed that it was attachedto a rod set so high in the wall on either side that the top of thedrapery actually touched the ceiling.
"Well," said Gatton, looking at me oddly, "in addition to the textureof the curtain do you notice anything else?"
"No," I confessed.
"Well," he continued, "you may remember that yesterday when I examinedthis place, I had to drape the curtain over a chair, which I movedhere for the purpose, in order to see the recess."
"So you did," I said; "I remember."
"Well, doesn't it strike you as odd? If you'll notice the way it isfastened above, you will see that it is not upon rings. In other wordsit is not intended to be opened. You see that it is in one piece sothat anybody having occasion to enter the recess would have to lift itaside and let it fall to behind him."
I studied the arrangement of the drapings more closely and saw thathis statement was correct; also I saw something else, and:
"This room has been lighted by gas at some time!" I cried. "Here, upunder the picture-rail, is a plug."
"Most houses are provided both with gas and electric light abouthere," replied Gatton abstractedly.
But even before he had finished speaking I saw his expression change,and in a moment he had dragged a chair into the recess.
"Hold the curtain back," he directed sharply.
Standing on the chair, he began to examine the little brass plug towhich I had drawn his attention. For some time I watched him insilence, and then:
"What do you think you have found?" I inquired.
He glanced down over his shoulder.
"I think I have found a _clew_!" he replied.