CHAPTER XIII
CREWE engaged a room in Whitethorn Gardens in order to watch Mrs.Penfield's movements, and took up his post of observation immediately.As he did not want Mrs. Penfield to know he was watching her house,he had chosen an attic bedroom on the opposite side and some distancehigher up the steep street--an elevated vantage point, which not onlycommanded a view of all the houses in the street but of a great portionof Staveley and the surrounding country-side as well. From this eyriethe detective could see the front, the downs, and the distant cliffroad to Ashlingsea; but the residence of Brett's landlady engrossed hisattention.
There was very little sign of life in the street. One or two old ladieswalked primly in the front gardens before dusk, but went inside assoon as the evening sea-mist began to rise. Sedate maidservants litthe gas and lowered blinds, and the street was left to darkness till alamplighter came and lit a street-lamp which stood near No. 41. Creweobserved that the front rooms of No. 41 remained black and unlighted:apparently Mrs. Penfield lived in the back of the house and took hermeals there.
As darkness was falling, Mrs. Penfield's elderly servant came from theback of the house, carrying a large basket. She went out of the frontgate, turned up the street, and disappeared round the corner. Abouthalf an hour later Crewe heard the front gate click, and saw Mrs.Penfield appear. Her face was plainly visible by the street light asshe glanced anxiously up and down the street several times, as thoughshe feared she was watched. Then she turned down the street and walkedquickly away.
Crewe ran downstairs, let himself noiselessly out of the front door andfollowed quickly in her wake. As he neared the bottom of the street, hesaw her a little distance in front of him. When she reached the end ofWhitethorn Gardens she turned to the right along the sea front.
The night was mild, and a few drops of rain were falling. The frontseemed deserted, and was shrouded in a mist which reduced thelamplights to a yellow glimmer. It was an easy matter for Crewe tofollow closely behind the woman, conscious that the mist would shieldhim from observation if she turned.
Mrs. Penfield walked rapidly along the front till she came to HighStreet. Half-way along the front the mist seemed suddenly to growthicker and Crewe crept closer in order to keep her in view. Shewalked swiftly with her head down, looking neither to the right northe left. She passed under the faint light of a street lamp, and asCrewe came up behind he saw a uniformed figure in front of him. It wasPolice Constable Heather who had come over from Ashlingsea on officialbusiness. Heather was so pleased at this unexpected meeting with thegreat London detective that he called out in a loud voice:
"Good night, Mr. Crewe."
Crewe answered softly and passed on. He could only hope that Mrs.Penfield was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she had not heardConstable Heather's stentorian utterance of his name. Suddenly heheard her footsteps cease and he, too, came to a stop. Then he saw herconfronting him.
"Why are you following me, Mr. Crewe?" she asked in quick excitedtones. "It was you who telephoned to me to come up and see InspectorMurchison. I should have known it was a hoax. You wanted to get me outof the house."
"If I wanted to get you out of the house, Mrs. Penfield, why should Ifollow you?" asked Crewe.
"But you were following me," she persisted.
"It is not the sort of night I would choose for such work," he replied.
"When I heard that man call out your name, I knew I had been hoaxed."
"By whom?" asked Crewe, who was puzzled at this example of femininereasoning.
"I shall go back and see," she said. "I will ring up InspectorMurchison from there and find out if he sent a message to me to go upto the police station."
Crewe was keenly interested in knowing if she had been hoaxed, and bywhom. Therefore he offered to accompany her home, as it was not a nicenight for a lady to be in the street unattended.
When they reached 41 Whitethorn Gardens, she opened the gate, andwalked up to the house rapidly. At the porch she stopped, touched Crewelightly on the arm, and pointed to the front door. In the dim light apatch of blackness showed; the door was open.
"Come with me," she whispered, "and we will take him by surprise. Don'tstrike a match; give me your hand."
She walked noiselessly along the dark hall, and turning into a passagesome distance down it led the way through an open doorway into aroom--a small and stuffy storeroom, Crewe imagined it to be, as the airwas suggestive of cheese and preserves.
"Go, Arnold, the police are here! Go at once!"
The words rang shrilly through the house. Crewe realized that he hadbeen tricked by the woman and he sprang forward to the door. But theclick of a lock told him he was too late. He struck a match and itslight revealed to him Mrs. Penfield standing with her back against thedoor she had closed.
"There is a candle on the shelf behind you," she said composedly.
Crewe's glance followed the turn of her head; he lit the candle withhis expiring match. The candle flickered, then burnt brightly, and thedetective saw that he was in a small storeroom with shelves lining thewalls. He turned again to Mrs. Penfield who was watching him closely.
"Why did you alarm him?" he asked. "You think it was Brett?"
Although his tone was one of curiosity rather than anger, the womanthrew her arms out at full length as though she feared he would attemptto drag her away from the door.
"Do not be afraid," said Crewe. "You have nothing to fear from me. And,as for him, it is too late to pursue him."
"I must give him ample time to make his escape," she said. "You will goand tell the police he was here."
"What makes you think it was Brett?" asked Crewe. "If he came backthis way--if he hoaxed you with a telephone message in order to get youout of the house--he has shown a lamentable want of trust in you."
"He knows he can trust me," she said confidently. "He can never doubtit after to-night."
"I cannot conceive why he should take the great risk of coming back,"he said meditatively.
"That means you would like to go up to his rooms and find out what hecame for. But I forbid you. If you attempt to go upstairs, I will rousethe neighbourhood with the cry that there are burglars in the house."
"I think you have more reason to be afraid of the police than I," saidCrewe. "However, I am in your hands. As far as I am concerned, you canhave full credit for having saved him to-night."
She showed her faith in this assurance by unlocking the door. Takingthe candle from the shelf, she led the way along the passage and thehall again. She opened the front door, and held the candle higher tolight him out. She stood in the open doorway till Crewe reached thegarden gate.
He walked back along the front. The mist was still rising from the seain great white billows, which rolled across the beach and shroudedeverything in an impenetrable veil. It penetrated unpleasantly into theeyes and throat, and Crewe was glad when he turned off the desertedparade and reached Sir George Granville's house.
The servant who admitted him told him the family were in thedrawing-room, and thither he directed his steps. Lady Granville wasseated at the piano, playing softly. Marsland in an easy chair waslistlessly turning over the pages of a bound volume of _Punch_. SirGeorge was in another easy chair a little distance away, nodding inplacid slumber with his handsome white beard on his breast, and anextinguished cigar between his fingers.
Lady Granville smiled at Crewe as he entered, and stopped playing. Thecessation of the music awakened Sir George, and when he saw Crewe hiseyes wandered towards the chess-table.
"Do you feel inclined for a game of chess?" he exclaimed in his loudvoice. "I want my revenge, you know."
"I'll be pleased to give it to you," responded Crewe.
"A very unpleasant night outside," said Marsland.
"The mist seems to be thicker up this end of the front," replied Crewe."Have you been out in it?"
"I came in about five minutes ago. I went for a walk."
Lady Granville took a book and seated herself not far
from thechess-table. Marsland came and stood near the players, watching thegame. He soon got tired of it, however, and went back to _Punch_. SirGeorge was a slow player at all times, and his anxiety when pittedagainst a renowned player like Crewe made him slower than usual. Hestudied each move of Crewe's in all its bearings before replying,scrutinizing the board with set face, endeavouring to penetratehis opponent's intentions, and imagining subtle traps where noneexisted. Meanwhile, his fingers hovered nervously above the pieceswith the irresoluteness of a chess-player weighed down by the heavyresponsibility of his next move, and, finally, when the plungehad been taken Sir George sat back, stroking his long white bearddoubtfully, and fixed his eyes on Crewe, as though mutely asking hisopinion of the move. "Game" seemed an inappropriate word to apply tochess as played by Sir George Granville.
It was during one of these strategical pauses, after the game hadbeen in progress for nearly an hour, that Crewe heard a frightenedexclamation from Lady Granville. He looked up and saw Marsland standingnear the fire-place with his hand over his heart, swaying as thoughabout to fall. Crewe sprang forward and supported him to an easy chair.
"A little brandy," said Crewe quietly.
Sir George hurriedly brought a decanter of brandy and a glass, andCrewe poured a little down Marsland's throat. The colour came slowlyback to the young man's cheeks, and he smiled feebly at the three faceslooking down at him.
"I'm afraid I've been giving you a lot of trouble," he said, with anobvious effort to collect himself.
"I'll ring up for Dr. Harrison," Sir George spoke in a loud voice, asthough to reassure himself.
"There is not the slightest need to send for Harrison," said Marsland."I'm quite right again. I must expect these attacks occasionally forsome time to come. They're nothing--just weakness. All I need is agood night's rest, and if you'll excuse me I'll retire now." He got upand walked resolutely out of the room with square shoulders, as thoughto demonstrate to those watching him that no trace of his weaknessremained.
"Do you think it is safe to leave him alone?" said Sir George turningto Crewe, as the door closed on his nephew's retreating figure. "Ifeel very anxious about him. Anything might happen to him during thenight."
"A good night's rest will do him more good than anything else. He hasbeen under a rather severe nervous strain during the last few days. Wewill go to his room in a few minutes to see how he is."
They settled down to their game again and Lady Granville moved up herchair near the chess-table for the sake of their company and pretendedto take an interest in the game. Only a few moves had been made whenthere was a loud report of an explosion. Lady Granville jumped up fromher chair and screamed and then fell back into the chair in a faint.
"Look to her," said Crewe to his host, "while I go and see what's thematter."
As he ran along the hall to the staircase he met two of the maids,who with white faces and hands clasped in front of them seemed toofrightened to move.
"Where was it?" asked Crewe. "Upstairs?"
"Yes, sir, upstairs," said one of them.
"It came from Mr. Marsland's room," added the other, in an awed whisper.
Crewe ran straight for Marsland's room, expecting to find there someevidence of a tragedy. As he burst into the room he saw to his greatrelief that Marsland was there, leaning out of the window.
"What is it?" asked Crewe. "Did you fire a revolver?"
Marsland, who was wearing a dressing-gown, came from the window. In hisright hand he was holding a big revolver.
"I missed him," he said.
"Missed whom?"
"A burglar."
"It is very early in the night for a burglar to be out."
"He took advantage of the mist. He must have thought that there was noone in the room. I had turned out the light and was resting on the bed.I was half asleep, but he knocked a brush off the dressing-table as hewas getting through the window and that woke me up. I caught a goodglimpse of him and I fired. He dropped at once, and I thought I had hithim, but when I looked out of the window I saw him disappear in themist. What an awful pity I didn't get him."
"How did you happen to be lying down with a revolver beside you?" askedCrewe.
"I often take it to bed with me. That is the result of the life at thefront. And to-night I had a kind of presentiment that I should need it."
It occurred to Crewe that the young man had been subject tohallucinations during his illness. This habit of sleeping with arevolver under his pillow seemed to indicate that his cure was stillfar from complete. Was the burglar a phantom of a sick mind?
He went over to the window for the purpose of looking out but hisattention was arrested by a stain on the outside sill.
"You did not miss him altogether," he said to Marsland. "Look here."
Marsland touched the stain and held a blood-stained finger up to thelight for his own inspection.