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THE RIDDLE OF THEMYSTERIOUS LIGHT
"_Mr. Narkom saw Cleek run to the tower's foot ... andthen, almost immediately, he saw him throw up both hands and staggerbackward._"]
THE SCOTLAND YARD MYSTERY LIBRARY
THERIDDLE OFTHEMYSTERIOUSLIGHT
BYMARY E. and THOMAS W. HANSHEW
McKINLAY, STONE & MACKENZIENEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1920, 1921, BYDOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE I. Trapped by the Apaches 3 II. A Kiss for a Life 12 III. The Haunted Village 22 IV. Weird Church Bells of the Night 30 V. The Private Affairs of a Duke 43 VI. The Ghost in the Church Belfry 50 VII. A Garden of Transplanted Flowers 62 VIII. The Murder of Captain Sandringham 73 IX. A Faintly Familiar Face 78 X. A Walk in the Garden 86 XI. Clues from a Dead Body 94 XII. A Jangle of Pealing Bells 101 XIII. The Mysterious Light 107 XIV. "George Headland" Keeps an Appointment 113 XV. The Laying of the Valehampton "Ghost" 121 XVI. Cleek Explains 128 XVII. The Mystery of the "Rose of Fire" 137 XVIII. Murder at Manor Lodge 145 XIX. The Winged Messenger of Death 154 XX. The Stolen Formulas 166 XXI. Countess Maravitz Entertains 190 XXII. An Interrupted Holiday 202 XXIII. A Divided Legacy 210 XXIV. "The Fire That Slays in the Dark" 218 XXV. The Priceless Statue That Vanished 229 XXVI. Flecks of White Powder 237 XXVII. The Ruse of the Sprained Wrist 246 XXVIII. The Mystery of the "Rope of Fear" 256 XXIX. The Mysterious Death of Elton Carlyle 287 XXX. The Safe with the Time-Lock 297 XXXI. In the Den of the Apaches 306 XXXII. The Passing of Cleek 320
CHAPTER I
TRAPPED BY THE APACHES
There are days, even in the capricious climate of London, when the wholeworld seems at peace; when the blue of the summer sky, the fragrance ofsome distant flower brought in by a passing breeze, and the contentedchirp of the birds, all unite to evoke a spirit of thankfulness for thevery gift of life itself.
This was the spirit of Mr. Maverick Narkom, Superintendent of ScotlandYard, on this particular day in July. Even the very criminals hadapparently betaken themselves to other haunts and distant climes, andthe Yard, therefore, may be said to have been surprisingly slack. Up inhis own private room, seated in front of his desk--both desk and roomreduced to a state of order and tidiness uncanny to behold--sat theSuperintendent, if the truth must be told, oblivious to all the world; apurple silk handkerchief draped itself gracefully over his head and rosesoftly up and down with the rise and fall of his breath. This was hislast day at the Yard, for to-morrow would see him well on the road toMargate for a blessed two weeks' holiday with Mrs. Narkom and thechildren, not to mention guests who were nearly as precious to him,namely Ailsa Lorne and Hamilton Cleek.
His famous ally had himself been absent for more than two months, butwas returning this very day--day, in fact, might be expected to arrivenow at any minute, so it was little wonder that peace reigned supreme inthe worthy Superintendent's heart, and induced his gentle slumbers evenin the sacred precincts of what has been termed the Hub of London.
But outside, in the blue azure of the sky above, a tiny cloud, no biggerthan that of the proverbial man's hand, had gathered, and as if it werea reflection of the storm-clouds of crime hovering round, there came thesharp _ting-ting_ of the telephone bell at his elbow. For a minute, thussuddenly aroused, Mr. Narkom stared blankly at the disturber of hispeace. A swift glance at the indicator told him it was a summons fromthe Chief Commissioner, and Mr. Narkom betook himself to the interview.
It lasted only fifteen minutes as registered by the clock ticking gentlyon the mantelshelf, but its deadly effect was that of fifteen years onMr. Narkom, and when he once more entered his own official sanctum, hesank down into the chair with a groan. For he had heard the firstdetails of that mystery of the haunted village of Valehampton, whichlater on was to rouse a whole county, and bring to Hamilton Cleek one ofthe chief problems of his career. That the strangeness of the case wasapparent on the face of it could be gathered from Mr. Narkom's mutteredremarks.
"Curses!" he growled. "Suicides! Murders! Ghosts! Prophecies! It's thework of the devil himself." He consulted his notes again, but thoughcopious enough, it was clear they afforded no further light. He pulledout his watch and heaved a sigh of relief. "Only half-past nine now," heejaculated, "and if only Cleek arrived safely by the 8:40, I think hesaid, at Charing Cross, there's a chance of seeing light. I don't knowwhere he's been, the amazing beggar, but he's never been wanted so badlyhere in his life. Thank goodness he's back again."
He reached out a hand for that friendly instrument the telephonereceiver; but his complacent gratitude had evidently tried the patienceof the Fates, for ere his fingers closed round the familiar blackhandle, the door of his room was thrown violently open, and withoutceremony or even apology a slim figure fairly hurled itself before thegaze of the astonished Superintendent.
It was Dollops, worshipper of Cleek and his ever-faithful assistant. Hisface was the colour of a Manila paper bag, and his eyes bulged out ofhis head as they took in the fact that Mr. Narkom was alone.
"Lor' lumme!" he cried, relapsing into broad cockney, as he invariablydid when excited. "Don't go for to say he ain't 'ere, neither," heblurted out, his eyes seeking those of Mr. Narkom with a very agony ofimpatience.
For both of them there could be but one "he," and Mr. Narkom's facebecame nearly the same colour as the lad's as he realized that hisfamous ally was not at hand.
"Didn't he arrive at Charing Cross by the 8:40?" he cried.
Dollops shook his head.
"No, bless 'im, that's just what he didn't do, Mr. Narkom. Me and MissLorne waited for 'im, me wivout so much as a bite to keep my insidesfrom sticking together, and them blooming Apaches--beggin' your pardon,Mr. Narkom, but they are blooming, too--merry and bright they was, Itell you, buzzing round that station like bluebottles round a piece ofmeat. That's wot made me come 'ere, thinkin' he'd twigged 'em as usualand come another way. But if 'e ain't 'ere, 'e ain't, and I'll get backto Portman Square."
With a dejected lurch of the shoulders, he turned, leaving Mr. Narkom tomake his own preparations.
Soon deep in the business of issuing orders to his underlings,despatching telegrams--one, of course, to Mrs. Narkom herself toprepare her for the disappointment of a postponed holiday--and inwriting and expanding the notes of this last case just entrusted to himby his chief, Mr. Narkom for the first time in his life since he hadknown and learned to love his famous ally, Hamilton Cleek, once known asthe Man of Forty Faces by reason of his peculiar birth-gift, his abilityto change
instantaneously his whole appearance by an extraordinarydistortion of his facial muscles, and also as the Vanishing Cracksman,for his capacity of extricating himself from perilous positions, and nowas Cleek of Scotland Yard--for the first time, we say, Mr. Narkom forgotto be anxious at his evident non-arrival.
The sound of hurried footsteps in the corridor outside struck upon hisear and he wheeled suddenly in his chair. But if he had expected to seeCleek, he was doomed to disappointment. There came a knock, the dooropened and closed, and a deprecatory cough came from Inspector Hammond,white-faced and anxious, his lips set in a grim line of tense anxiety.
"Hammond--why, what is wrong, man? Speak up," cried the Superintendent."Come, out with it."
"It's 'im, sir," said Hammond. "A kid of a paper-boy just pushed this'ere paper into my 'and as I was leaving my beat and 'ops it before Icould as much as breathe Jack Robinson."
His hand shaking, he extended to the obviously irritated Mr. Narkom ascrap of dirty paper, and as the Superintendent gave a glance at the fewwords scrawled on it, his own ruddy face was drained of every vestige ofcolour, and it looked not unlike that of Dollops but a brief half hourprevious.
The scribbled words were barely half a dozen in number but in theirimport they told of more dire disaster to him than could any voluminouscabinet epistle.
Irregularly penned as by one in imminent peril, the message dancedbefore his blurred eyes.
"_Come, God's sake, 1st barge, Limehouse, Dock 3.--Cleek._"
"What does it mean, sir?" asked Hammond, anxiously, as Mr. Narkom suckedin his breath and stood staring rigidly.
"Means," he gasped, "that they've got him, the devils. Dollops wasright. Apaches! God, but he's gone by now perhaps. Cleek, mypal--my----"
He wheeled on the now frightened Inspector. "Quick, man--the car. Youfollow, with Petrie and whoever else is off duty."
Hammond needed no second telling. He almost fled from the room, and thedread news preceding him, Lennard was on the spot and waiting asimpatiently as the Superintendent himself.
"Limehouse Docks, Lennard--and streak it. Mr. Cleek is in danger----"
"I know, sir. Hop in, and Lord help the man or vehicle in my way!" wasthe fervent reply as he cranked up and took his seat.
"Streak it" he did, and not a policeman on duty, after a brief glance athis grim face and that of the Superintendent within, did more than holdup every cart, cab, tram, or 'bus that was likely to impede his way.Obviously the Yard, as vested in the sacred person of SuperintendentNarkom and his prime minister Lennard, was "on active duty" and like afire engine in speed and purpose, the Yard limousine rocked and swayedits way through grimy lanes and malodorous byways till it reached thesqualid region known as Limehouse Docks. Here Lennard could go nofarther, and ere the car had pulled up, quivering, the portly form ofthe Superintendent had thrown itself out, and was peering into thesunlit distances.
"Wait here, Lennard, and when the others come along bring them to Dock 3and look out for Barge No. 1, if we are not here first."
"Righto, sir," said Lennard.
But already Mr. Narkom was out of sight, all other duties forgotten.
Swiftly he turned a sharp corner, nearly falling over a sailor leaningagainst the wall smoking a cigarette. At the first whiff, Mr. Narkomglanced up swiftly. It did not take his trained sense long to recognizethat it was a French cigarette--hence Apache--and that Cleek must behere, in need of him!
"La, la, but you are queek," the man muttered. "It is ze braveSuper-in-tend-ent and he come for his gr-great frien' Cleek--is it notso, my frien'?"
"Yes, yes--_you know_! He is here?" gasped Mr. Narkom, barely, if atall, stopping to think of any possible peril to himself. "You shall befinely rewarded for this, my good man," he said, warmly. "Lead on----"
"But yes," was the reply, "a brave reward. Come!" He turned silently andswiftly, beckoning to the Superintendent to follow.
Nothing loath and unsuspecting, Mr. Narkom turned and followed thesailor till they reached one of the docks--and a barge.
"This is dock 3," he said, as he noticed the number.
"Quite right," said his guide. "Get in, queek--ze boat--ze others, zayweel return and it weel be too late."
That was sufficient for Mr. Narkom. Obviously, his friend was in danger;equally obvious was it that this guide had brought him as areinforcement against returning Apaches.
"Get in" he did, and it was not until he had stumbled down a darkcompanionway into the grimy cabin and heard the door click swiftlybehind him that he realized he was trapped--deceived by a trick assimple as it had been effective. The sweat stood out on theSuperintendent's forehead, rolling down in great beads, while his handsgrew cold and clammy.
"Cleek!" he cried, hoping even now that his ally were with him to helpand be helped! But a light laugh--half snarl, half sneer--caused him toturn. His guide stood regarding him with mocking amusement.
"Bravo! my frien'--so easy it was! Caught like the great bigturkey-gobbler. Oh, _non, non_--but not so queek, my frien'----"
For Mr. Narkom had flung himself forward in a vain effort to escape. Asharp whistle and a door hitherto unseen in the darkness of the cabinbehind him was flung open. Mr. Narkom was seized from behind, flung downsome three minutes later, and trussed up, panting and helpless, tears ofrage and mortification in his eyes.
Soon, as it grew darker and darker, betokening the fall of the summernight, he felt the movement of the boat beneath him, and even whileLennard and a posse of his own men were interviewing the officials andoverhauling Dock 1, the boat with its valuable burden was drifting outto meet a larger vessel, waiting well up the river's mouth, bearing awayone of the only two men who could solve one of the greatest mysteriesthe Law had ever been faced with.