CHAPTER XXVII
THE SOLVING OF THE RIDDLE
"For the sake of _le bon dieu_, man, cease your cruel mockery!" saidBrellier, suddenly, in a husky voice, as the clerk rose to quell theinterrupted flow of oratory, and the court banged his mace for quiet.
"You didn't think of the cruel mockery of God's good world, which youwere helping so successfully to ruin!" continued the detective, speaking_to_ the court but _at_ Brellier, each word pointed as a barb, each pausemore pregnant with scorn than the spoken words had been. "You didn'tthink of that, did you? Oh, no! You gave no thought to the ruined homeand the weeping wife, the broken-hearted mother and the fatherless child.That was outside your reckoning altogether. And, if hearsay be true (andin this case I believe it is) you even went so far as to kill adefenceless woman who had been brave enough to wander out across thatparticular part of the Fens just to see what those flames really were.And yet,--your lordship, this man howls for mercy."
He paused a moment and passed a hand wearily over his forehead. Thetelling of the tale was not easy, and the expression of 'ToinetteBrellier's tear-misted eyes added to the difficulty of it. But he knewhe must spare no detail; in fairness to the man who stood in the dock,in fairness to the Law he served, and in whose service he had unravelledthis riddle which at first had seemed so inexplicable.
Then the judge spoke.
"The court must congratulate you, Mr. Cleek," he said in his fine,metallic voice, "upon the very excellent and intricate work you have doneon this case. Believe me, the Law appreciates it, and I, as one of itshumble exponents, must add my admiration to the rest. Permit me, however,to ask one or two questions. In the first place, before we proceedfurther with the case, I should like you to give me any explanation thatyou can relative to the matter of what the prisoner here has told us withregard to the story of the Frozen Flame. This gentleman has said that thestory goes that whenever a new victim had been claimed by the flames,that he completely vanishes, and that another flame appears in amongstits fellows. The prisoner has declared this to be true; in fact, hasactually sworn upon oath, that he has seen this thing with his own eyesthe night that Dacre Wynne was killed. I confess that upon hearing this,I had my strong suspicions of his veracity. Can you explain it anyclearer?"
Cleek smiled a trifle whimsically, then he nodded.
"I can. Shortly after I made my discovery of the secret passage that ledout upon the Fens--the entrance to it, by the way, was marked by a patchof charred grass about the size of a small round table (you remember,Dollops, I asked you if you noticed anything then?), that lifted up, ifone had keen enough eyes to discover it, and revealed the trap-doorbeneath--Dollops and I set out on another tour of investigation. We weredetermined to take a sporting chance on being winged by the watchfulguards and have a look round behind those flames for ourselves. We didthis. It happened that we slipped the guard unobserved, having knowledge,you see, of at least part of the whole diabolical scheme, and gettingwithin range of the flames without discovery, or, for that matter, seeingany one about, we got down on our hands and knees and dug into the earthwith our penknives."
"What suggested this plan to you?"
Cleek smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
"Why, I had a theory, you see. And, like you, I wanted to find out ifMerriton were telling the truth about that other light he had seen ornot. This was the only way. Marsh-gas was there in plenty, though thereis no heat from the tiny flames, as you know, from which fact, no doubt,our friend Brellier derived the very theatrical name for them, but thelight of which Merriton spoke I took to be something bigger than that.And I had noticed, too, that here and there among the flames dancedbrilliant patches that seemed, well--_more_ than natural. So ourpenknives did the trick. Dollops was digging, when something suddenlyexploded, and shot up into our faces with a volume of gassy smoke. Wesprang back, throwing our arms up to shield our eyes, and after the fumeshad subsided returned to our task. The penknife had struck a bladderfilled with gas, which, sunk into the ground, produced the larger lights,one of which Sir Nigel had seen upon the night that Wynne disappeared.Even more clever, isn't it? I wonder whose idea it originally was."
He spun round slowly upon his heel and faced the line of seatedwitnesses. His eyes once more travelled over the group, face to face,eye to eye, until he paused suddenly and pointed at Borkins's chalk-whitecountenance.
"That's the man who probably did the job," he said casually. "Brellier'sright-hand man, that. With a brain that might have been used for other andbetter things."
The judge leaned forward upon his folded elbows, pointing his pen inBorkins's direction.
"Then you say this man is part and parcel of the scheme, Mr. Cleek?" hequeried.
"I do. And a very big part, too. But, let me qualify that statement bysaying that if it hadn't been for Borkins's desire for revenge upon theman he served, this whole ghastly affair would probably never have beenrevealed. Wynne would have vanished in the ordinary way, as Collinsvanished afterward, and the superstitious horror would have gone on untilthere was not one person left in the village of Fetchworth who would havedared to venture an investigation of the flames. Then the work at thefactory would have continued, with a possibly curtailed payroll. No needfor high-handed pirates armed with revolvers _then_. That was the end thearch-fiend was working for. The end that never came."
"H'm. And may I ask how you discovered all this, before going into thecase of Borkins?" put in the judge.
Cleek bowed.
"Certainly," he returned. "That is the legal right. But I can vouch formy evidence, my lord. I received it, you see, at first-hand. This manBorkins engaged both the lad Dollops and myself as new hands for thefactory. We therefore had every opportunity of looking into the matterpersonally."
"Gawdamercy! I never did!" ejaculated Borkins, at this juncture, his facethe colour of newly-baked bread. "You're a liar--that's what you are! Adrorin' an innocent man into the beastly affair. I never engaged thelikes of _you_!"
"Didn't you?" Cleek laughed soundlessly. "Look here. Remember the manBill Jones, and his little pal Sammie Robinson, from Jamaica?" He writhedhis features for a moment, slipped his hand into his pocket, andproducing the black moustache that had been Dollops's envy andadmiration, stuck it upon his upper lip, pulled out a check cap from theother pocket, drew that upon his head, and peered at Borkins under thepeak of it. "What-o, matey!" he remarked in a harsh cockney voice.
"Merciful 'Eavens!" gasped out that worthy, covering his eyes with hishands, one more incredulous witness of Cleek's greatest gift. "Bill Jonesit is! _Gawd!_ are you a devil?"
"No, just an ordinary man, my dear friend. But you remember now, eh?Well, that does away with the need of the moustache, then." The clerk ofthe court, only too familiar with Cleek's disregard of legal formality,frowned at this violation of dignity and raised his mace to rap for orderand possibly to reprimand Cleek for his theatrical conduct but at thatmoment the detective pulled off the cap and moustache as though wellpleased with his performance. Cleek turned once more to the judge.
"My lord," he said serenely, "you have seen the man Bill Jones, and theimpersonator of Sammie Robinson is there," he pointed to Dollops. "Well,this man Borkins--or Piggott, as he calls himself when doing his 'privatework'--engaged Dollops and me, in place of two hands in the factory whohad been given to too much tongue-wagging, and in consequence had metwith prompt punishment, God alone knows what it was! We worked there forsomething just under a fortnight. Dollops, with his usual knack formaking friends in the right direction, chummed up to one of the men--whomI have already named--Jim Dobbs. He finally asked him to come and helpwith the loading up of the boats, and gave him the chance of making alittle overtime by simply keeping his mouth shut as to what went on.I managed to get on the job too, and we did it three times in thatfortnight--and a jolly difficult task we found it, I don't mind saying.But I felt that evidence was necessary, and while in the employ of 'themaster' we carried on many investigations. And still in his service Im
ade this rough map of the varied turnings of the secret passage, and theplaces to which they led. You can get a better idea of the ground if youglance at it." He handed it up to the high desk, and paused a moment asthe judge surveyed it through his spectacles. "The passage at MerritonTowers, and also at Withersby Hall--so conveniently placed near thatparticular part of the Fens, and therefore chosen by Brellier for hiswork--are both of ancient origin, dating back, I should say, to the timeof the civil war.
"Whose idea it was to connect the two passages up I could not say, orwhen Borkins got into the pay of Brellier and played false to a familythat he had served for twenty years. But the fact remains. The twopassages _are_ linked up, and then continued at great labour in anotherdirection to that field which lies off the Saltfleet Road and just at theback of the factory. And thus was made a convenient little subway for thecarrying on of nefarious transactions of the kind which we havediscovered."
"And how did you discover that Brellier was the 'Master' in question?"put in the judge at this juncture.
"He happened to come to the factory one day while we were at work uponour machines. Someone said, 'Crickey! 'Ere's the Master! Funny for _'im_to be prowlin' round at this hour of the day--night's more to 'islikin'.' I could hardly contain myself when I saw who it was even thoughI had already discovered the passage to Withersby Hall. I had not yetrealized that 'Jonathan Brent' and Brellier were one and the same, thoughI discovered that the former had a perfectly legitimate office in Londonin Leadenhall Street. But when I saw him I knew. After that I wasted notime. Since then we've been having a pretty scramble to get safely awaywithout giving any clues to the other men, and to put Scotland Yard upontheir track. They're down there now, and have got every man of 'em I dareswear (and I hope they are keeping my friend Black Whiskers for me todeal with). That is the cause of my lateness at the hearing of the case.You can fully understand how impossible it was to be here any earlier."
The judge nodded. "Your statement against this man Borkins--?"
"Is as strong a one as ever was made," said Cleek. "It was Borkinswho--in a fit of malicious rage, no doubt--conceived the idea ofinterfering with his master's work to the extent of inventing the meansto have Sir Nigel Merriton wrongly convicted of the murder of DacreWynne. You have seen the revolver, the peculiar make of which caused itto be the chief evidence in this gruesome tragedy. Here is the genuineone."
He drew the little thing from his pocket, and reaching up placed it inthe judge's outstretched hand. That gentleman gave a gasp as he laid eyesupon it.
"Identical with this one, which belongs to the prisoner!" he said--almostexcitedly.
"Exactly. The same colonial French make, you see. This particular onebelongs, by the way, to Miss Brellier."
"_Miss Brellier!_"
Something like a thrill ran through the crowded court room. In the silencethat followed you could have heard a pin drop.
"That is correct. She will tell you that she always kept it in an unuseddrawer in her secretaire locked away with some papers. She had not lookedat it for months, until the other day when she happened to examine one ofthose papers, and therefore went to the drawer and unlocked it. Therevolver lying there drew her attention. Knowing that it was the same asthe one owned by her fiance, Sir Nigel Merriton, and figuring so largelyin this case, she took it out and idly examined it. One of the bulletswas missing! This rather aroused her curiosity, and when I questioned herafterward about it, when the inquest was over, and she had brought itforward and shown it to the coroner, who--quite naturally--after theexplanation given by Mr. Brellier, gave it back to her as having nodealings with the case, she told me that she could not _absolutely_recollect her uncle telling her that he _had_ killed the dog with it.A small thing but rather important."
"And you say that this man Borkins arranged this revolver so as to pointto the prisoner's guilt, Mr. Cleek?" asked the judge.
"I say that the man Dacre Wynne was actually _killed_ with that identicalrevolver which you hold in your hand, my lord. And the construction I putupon it is this: Borkins hated his master, but the long story of thatdoes not concern us here, and upon the night of the quarrel he waslistening at the door, and, hearing how things were shaping themselves,began, as he himself has told you in his evidence, to think that therewould soon be trouble between Sir Nigel and Mr. Wynne, if things went onas they had been going. Therefore, when he was told that Mr. Wynne hadgone out across the Fens in a drunken rage, to investigate the meaning ofthe Frozen Flames, the idea entered Borkins's mind. He knew his master'srevolver, had seen it slipped under his pillow more often than not of anevening when Sir Nigel went to bed. Here Borkins saw his life'sopportunity of getting even. He knew, too, of Miss Brellier'srevolver--_must_ have known, else why should this particular instrumentbe used upon this particular night, in place of the usual type ofrevolver which Brellier's guards carried, and by which poor Collinsundoubtedly met his death? So we will take it that he knew of this littleinstrument here, and upon hearing of Wynne's proposed investigations, hedashed to the back kitchen of the Towers--which, was rarely used by theother servants, as being, so one of them told me, 'so dark and damp thatit fair gave 'em the creeps.' Therefore Borkins had his way unmolested,and it did not take him long, knowing the turnings of the undergroundpassage--as he did from constant use--to communicate with Withersby Hall.To which guard he told his tale I do not know, but, since we have takenthe whole crowd--we'll find out later. Anyway, he must have told someoneelse of his desire for private vengeance. And the thing worked. When poorWynne met his death, it was at the point of a pistol which had lainunused in the secretaire at Withersby Hall for some little time. I havenot been able to find the actual spot where the body of Wynne and, lateron, that of Collins was first concealed, but I have no doubt that theywere brought from that spot to be discovered by us. It was very necessaryfor the body of Wynne to be discovered, since the bullet in his brain wasfired from Miss Brellier's revolver. It was all part of the plot againstSir Nigel. How bitter was that plot is evidenced by the removal of thebodies to the place they were discovered on the Fens--no very pleasantjob for any man."
Cleek whirled suddenly upon Borkins, who stood with bent head and pallidface, biting his lips and twisting his hands together, while Cleek'svoice broke the perfect silence of the court. But thus taken by surprise,he lifted his head, and his mouth opened.
The judge raised his hand.
"Is this true, my man?" he demanded.
Borkins's face went an ugly purplish-red. For a moment it looked asthough he were going to have an apoplectic fit.
"Yes--damn you all--yes!" he replied venomously. "That's how I didit--though Gawd alone knows how he come to find it out! But the game'sup now, and it's no more use a-lyin'."
"Never a truer word spoken," returned Cleek, with a little triumphantsmile. "I must admit, your Lordship, that upon that one point I was alittle shaky. Borkins has irrefutably proved that my theory was correct.I must say I am indebted to him." Again the little smile looped up onecorner of his face. "And I have but just a little bit more of the tale totell, and then--I must leave the rest of it in your infinitely morecapable hands.
"... The reason why I mistrusted the story of the revolver? Why, uponexamination, that instrument belonging to Miss Brellier was a little tooclean and well-oiled to have been out of use for a matter of five monthsor so. The worthy user of it had cleaned and polished it up, so as to besure of its action, and re-oiled it. So the 'dog story' was explodedalmost at its birth. The rest was easy to follow up, and knowing theposition of things between Borkins and his master (from both sides, so tospeak), I began to put two and two together. Borkins has, this moment,most agreeably told me that my answer to the sum is correct. But thingsworked in well for him, I must say. That Sir Nigel should actually firea shot upon that very night was a stroke of pure luck for the servant whohated him. And it made his chance of fabricating the whole plot againstSir Nigel a good deal easier. Whether he would have stolen the revolverhad that shot at the Frozen
Flames--for which Sir Nigel has been sosorely tried--never been fired, I cannot say, but that doubtless wouldhave been the course he would have taken. Luck favoured him upon thatdreadful night--but now that luck has changed. His own action has beenhis undoing. If he had not given vent to this feeling of hatred that hecherished in his heart for a master who was of such different stuff ofwhich he himself was made, the whole infernal plot might never have beenrevealed. And yet--who can tell?
"My lord and gentlemen of the jury, the tale is told. Justice has beendone an innocent man, and the rest of its doing lies in your capablehands. I ask your permission to be seated."
His voice trailed off into silence, and across the court a murmur arose,like the hum of some giant airplane growing gradually nearer and nearer.A sort of strangled sob came from the back of Cleek's chair, and heturned his head to smile into 'Toinette's wet eyes. In their depthsgratitude and sorrow were inexplicably mingled. His hand went out to her;she ran toward him from her place, and in spite of judge and jury, inspite of the order of the law, knelt down there at his side and pressedher warm lips against his hand.
CHAPTER XXVIII
"TOWARD MORNING...."
The flower in Cleek's buttonhole was jauntily erect, his immaculatelygarbed figure fitted in perfectly with every detail of the whole sceneof which he was a part. He looked--and was--the exquisitely turned-outman-about-town. Only his eyes told of other things, and they, as theorgans welled to the sounds of the wedding march lighted up withsomething that spoke of the man within rather than the man without. Heturned from his position at the altar (where he was fulfilling his dutiesas best man to Sir Nigel Merriton) and glanced back over the curve ofhis shoulder to where a girl sat, bending forward in the empty pew, herface alight, her eyes, beneath the curving hat-brim, swimming withtears.... She nodded as he saw her, and smiled, the promise of theirfuture together curving the sweet lips into gracious, womanly lines.Behind her, on guard as usual, and gay in a gorgeous garment ofblack-and-white checks, white waistcoat and flaming scarlet buttonhole,sat Dollops, faithfully watching while Cleek assisted at the ceremonythat was uniting two souls in one, and casting aside forever the smirchof a name that must rankle in the heart of her who had owned it in commonwith the man who had so nearly wrought her soul's desolation.
... Then it was all over. The organ swelled once more with its tidings ofjoy; upon her husband's arm 'Toinette passed down the tiny aisle, tearsrunning down her cheeks unchecked, and mingling with the smiles thatchased each other like sunbeams across her happy face. Cleek was at theporch waiting for them as they came out. He reached forth a hand to each.
"Good luck--and God bless you both," he said. "This is a fitting end,Merriton, and a new and glorious beginning."
"And every moment of it, every second of it we owe to you, Mr. Cleek,"returned Sir Nigel, in a deep, happy voice. "Time alone can show ourgratitude--I can't."
Cleek bowed, and his hand went out suddenly to Ailsa Lorne, who hadstolen up beside him, went out and caught her hand and held it in a gripthat hurt. "I know, boy. And one day in the glad future I shall call uponyou--who knows?--to attend a similar ceremony on my behalf, and in whichMr. Narkom here has promised to act as best man--with Dollops to bolsterhim up if he should be attacked with nerves. Now be off with you and--behappy. We'll see you later at the Towers, Merriton. Good-bye to youboth."
The door closed, the engine started, Dollops sprang back and they wereoff. The boy turned suddenly, looked at Cleek and Ailsa standing there inthe sunshine of the little porch, at Mr. Narkom chuckling quietly behindthem, and--remarked:
"Gawd! Dunno which is the best--weddings or funerals! Strite I don't. Yersnivels at bofe like a blinkin' fool wiv a cold in 'is 'ead. And when itcomes to _your_ time, Guv'nor! well, if yer don't let me myke a third atthe funnymoon, I'll commit hurry-skurry on yer wery doorstep!... An'jolly good riddance ter bad rubbish, too!"
THE END
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