housemaid's horrified cry."
The room was certainly in no disorder. On the big square table, coveredby a green plush cloth, were a number of new books, and in the centre agreat silver bowl filled with roses. The writing-table--anold-fashioned mahogany one--was, I noticed, littered with letters,bills, and receipts, the neglected correspondence of a careless man, andas I stood there I noted that the great easy-chair wherein he had satwas placed exactly opposite the window, while within reach, upon a smallneat shaft affixed to the wall, was the telephone instrument. Strangethat, if he felt himself suddenly ill, and had been unable to summonassistance, he did not ring up on the telephone.
"The hammering you heard--was it quite distinct?" I inquired.
"Quite. It seems entirely feasible now that he was striving to get outof this locked room."
The point that the door had been locked from the outside puzzled meconsiderably. But a fresh suggestion arose within me--namely, thatafter every one had retired, a servant, remembering that the window wasopen and the door unlocked, had gone down and seen to them. Yet shewould in that case have found her master in the room, with the lightstill burning. No: the only explanation was that the key had beenturned by one of the servants while passing along the corridor after hermaster's return there, and while on her way to bed.
Yet, however one viewed the tragic affair, it was full of mostremarkable features. There was mystery--a great and inexplicablemystery--somewhere.
And that mystery I now intended, at all hazards, to solve.
With that object in view, I interviewed the housemaid who found the bodyof her young master, and listened to her story from her own lips.Probably the whole household considered me to be highly inquisitive;nevertheless, I pointed out to them the earnest necessity of clearing upthe matter to everybody's satisfaction, and both to the housekeeper, awitty woman, and to the other servants, I declared that the facts werefull of grave suspicion.
The inspector of County Constabulary was not highly intelligent, and assoon as the medical men had given their opinion he ceased to take anyfurther professional interest in the affair. It was a sudden death, andwith such occurrences the police have only to attend the inquest andformally report.
The officer was, I think, rather piqued at the persistency of myinquiries, for when I pointed out to him the suspicious circumstance ofthe locked door, he point-blank told me that the medical declaration wasquite sufficient for him.
The girl, Kate Hayes, who discovered her master--a dark-haired,good-looking maid, about twenty-six--had been eight years at TitmarshCourt. It was Mr Guy's habit always to read his paper before going tobed, she told me, as we stood in the long servants' hall.
"I often find the library door unlocked before I go to my room, sir, andthe night before last it was unlocked."
"Did you lock it?" I asked quickly.
"No, sir. I once locked Mr Guy in, so I always look inside now, beforesecuring it," she replied. "I looked inside, and found Mr Guy there.He was then taking a book down from one of the shelves near the window.I apologised for intruding, and wished him good-night. `Good-night,Hayes,' he replied, and I closed the door and left him. I heard nothingin the night. But when I went to the library door next morning I foundit locked. I recollect it was locked, because at first the key wouldnot turn. At last I succeeded in opening the door, when the first sightthat met my eyes in the faint grey light through the chinks of theshutters was poor Mr Guy lying crouched up, his knees nearly touchinghis chin and quite dead."
"You are absolutely certain that the window was quite securely closed?"I asked.
"Captain Cardew opened it, sir. I ran away to fetch the otherservants."
Here again the Captain showed some disinclination thoroughly to probematters, for he interrupted, saying--
"I don't see how questioning the servants will assist us. We alreadyknow all that they know."
"What we want to discover is whether poor Nicholson received any visitorclandestinely during the early hours of the morning," I said. "To me,it seems very much as though he did."
"Then you are directly opposed to the medical theory?" he exclaimed.
"And so are you, are you not?" I remarked.
"In a manner, yes--but not altogether. We must credit doctors with acertain amount of knowledge where death is concerned."
"I credit them with every knowledge," I hastened to assure him; "only inthis case, I fear they have not sufficiently weighed over all the knownand indisputable facts."
"If there had actually been foul play, there would be traces of it," hesaid.
"Not always," I replied. "Many cases of secret assassination have beendeclared by doctors to have been deaths from natural causes."
I saw that the servants, all country-bred, ridiculed my suspicions.Doctor Redwood had said that their master had died of brain disease, andthat was sufficient. The police, too, were quite satisfied, and theyoung man's relations, two of whom arrived in hot haste while I wasthere, of course accepted the verdict of the medical men--the evidencewhich would be given at the inquest on the following day.
To me, it was a curious circumstance that Cardew, when he heard theshriek, had not attempted to investigate its cause. True, he hadlistened, and the cry was not repeated. I should have regarded hisapathy as suspicious if I myself had not more than once, when dreaming,awakened suddenly, believing that I had heard a cry of distress.
The shriek of terror--nay, of horror, Cardew described it--was, initself, a most peculiar circumstance. There is a distinct differencebetween a cry of pain and a shriek of horror.
No; I felt certain that the medical men had not sufficiently consideredthat very singular point. But when I tried to argue with the Captain,he merely declared that the cause of the shriek would never beexplained. Perhaps it was the sudden knowledge that he was dying thathad terrified him.
I intended, however, to seek further explanation. It was ever upon mymind that the man who had died so mysteriously intended to visit me onSunday, and to reveal to me something--something concerning Harvey Shaw.
Shaw was a guest that evening, but it was proved beyond the shadow of adoubt that he had left the house two and a half hours before,accompanied by Asta. It was therefore my intention at once to satisfymyself whether Shaw could have returned, unknown to the girl, andre-visited Titmarsh Court.
I confess openly and frankly that I suspected a crime. Hence, I sparedno effort in thoroughly investigating the curious circumstances--indoing work which the police would have done had not the declarations ofthe two doctors been so very positive and emphatic.
I saw the body of my friend lying in a darkened bedroom upstairs, andcovered with a sheet. I did not remove the shroud. I was toohorrified. A post-mortem had been made, and the corpse was waiting forthe arrival of the coffin.
What had the dead man intended to reveal to me? He had evidentlydiscovered something detrimental to Shaw. Of that I felt assured, forhad he not admitted as much?
"Did poor Guy appear his usual self before the affair?" I asked Cardewsome half-hour later, as we again stood together in the long sombre roomwherein he had died. The atmosphere was heavy with the oppressive scentof the roses, and about the silent apartment there seemed an air ofmystery.
"Well, to tell the truth, I did not notice anything unusual in hismanner at the time. But since--now that I have reflected--I recollectthat he seemed extremely anxious concerning Shaw's daughter--as thoughhe were apprehensive of something, and was in despair."
At that moment the Captain was called out by one of the servants, whotold him that the police superintendent from Northampton would like tosee him. Therefore I was left alone in the room, and was thus affordedopportunity to examine it.
I looked at the big comfortable chair in which the unfortunate man hadsat, and tried to picture to myself what had occurred there, in thesilent watches of the night. Why had he given vent to that shriek ofhorror? What had he seen?
Surely he had received some fearful, app
alling shock, or such apiercing, heartrending shriek would never have escaped a man's lips.
I examined the window, the shutters, the lock on the heavy door ofpolished mahogany; but nothing caused me curiosity--nothing had beentampered with.
My own theory was that Guy Nicholson, whilst reading his newspaper, hadseen something, and that, after shrieking in horror, he had beaten withhis hands upon the door, in frantic endeavour to escape from that room.Imprisoned there, he had received some fatal blow before he had time tounbar the window, and had sunk upon the floor and expired in agony.
But what was the something which had cost a man his Life?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
ONE POINT IS MADE CLEAR.
On the following day twelve respectable inhabitants of Corby and theneighbourhood assembled around the long dining-table at Titmarsh Court,and decided, upon the evidence of the two doctors,