CHAPTER IX
A FAINTLY FAMILIAR FACE
Different men view things from a different standpoint. It was clearlyevident that Mr. Overton was moved by this announcement of the unhappytermination of Captain Sandringham's life, but he did not show suchgreat elation as Carstairs displayed. His countenance, as he took thepaper which the vicar extended, was grave rather than gay, and there wasa troubled expression in his kindly eyes.
"Mind reading it aloud, sir?" suggested Cleek. "The reverend gentlemanspoke as though it was something as had to do with the duke."
"So it has. Captain Sandringham was his heir. But pardon. Mr. Saintly,this is Mr. George Headland, a detective His Grace had sent down fromScotland Yard to look into the matter of the bells and the murder ofyoung Tom Davis last night."
"Pleased to meet you, sir," said Cleek. "This will be my mate, JimMarkham. Yessir, a queer business and an ugly one, as you say, sir.Ought to get at the bottom of it in a week or so, however. Still, younever know."
The vicar gave Mr. Overton a puzzled glance. It was evident that he wasno more favourably impressed by these two "specimens of the police" thanthe land-steward had been. Then, too, one of them had not bothered totake even the slightest notice of the introduction to him.
"Mr. Markham is rather deaf," volunteered Overton, in explanation of theomission; and it may be that it was because of the blank wonder in thevicar's eyes at this announcement that Carstairs so far forgot himselfas to titter. Still, as it was a very mild titter, it apparently did notreach Cleek's ears, so there was no harm done; and Mr. Overton proceededto read the article in the paper aloud.
That it was a thoroughly authentic one there could be no doubt, for,after giving the fullest details of the affair and stating that hehimself had seen the body of the victim, whom he had long known by sightas well as by reputation--a fact which utterly precluded the possibilityof its being that of anybody merely resembling the captain and notactually the captain himself--the writer proceeded to sign the articlewith a name which was known to be that of one of the most reliable,careful, and conscientious of special newspaper correspondents. Beyondall question the report was true. Cleek was as convinced of Captain PaulSandringham's death as if he had stood by and seen him killed.
"It will be a great relief to the duke, there can be no denying that,Vicar," declared Overton as he finished reading the report; "but, allthe same, I can't help thinking that it's a sad business, sir, for ahuman creature to go out of the world like that and with never a chanceto repent. I saw him once--quite by accident--when I went over to Ostenda year ago, on business for the estate, and a fine, upstanding,splendid-looking fellow he was, too. He might have made much of his lifehad he only tried. But to be shot down like a dog! It's too awful, sir,too awful."
"Your sentiments do you credit, Mr. Overton; but they are no more than Ishould have expected of you," declared the vicar. "Carstairs here isless thoughtful, I fear."
"What would be the sense of wasting tears over such a man, sir?" repliedCarstairs, emphatically. "It is enough for me to remember that a loadhas been lifted from the shoulders of the best master I ever had.Besides, sir, there are bad men enough in the world without grievingover a thinning out of the ranks. There'll be one the less to reckonwith, that's all!"
Cleek began to smoke furiously. Mr. Narkom, twitching round an inquiringeye, saw that his attention had fallen suddenly upon something acrossthe road, and was not at all surprised when he abruptly walked over and,leaving the vicar to lecture Carstairs, began to examine a particularlythrifty wild rose whose branches were smothered with delicate bloom.But of a sudden he gave his shoulders a shrug and came back.
"False alarm!" he said, quietly. "I thought I'd stumbled on a find, Mr.Overton, but it's only a common brier, after all. But hadn't we betterbe moving? I won't be half sorry to sit down a bit. Much farther to thehouse where your young lady's folks live, Mr. Carstairs?"
"No; not very. Another ten minutes' walk will do it easily."
"Good business. Don't mind telling you that I am tired and shan't benone too sorry to get some food. My mate here, he's about done for, Ireckon; and Mr. Overton, he must be a bit done up, too. I say, wot priceletting him stand here and talk with the vicar for a time while you showus the rest of the way? You look as fresh as paint. Anyway, I reckon theyoung lady will be gladder to see us fetching _you_ with us than if wewas piloted by Mr. Overton here."
"Good idea that, Carstairs--act on it," put in the land-steward with alaugh. "You've got plenty of time before you need think of dinner; and Idare say that Emmy Costivan won't be sorry to have a few extra wordswith you on her own account."
Apparently Carstairs himself wouldn't be sorry for the opportunityeither, for he fell in with the suggestion with alacrity, and with afarewell salute to the vicar and a "So long, sir, see you again," tothe land-steward, Cleek and Mr. Narkom surrendered themselves to theleadership of this new guide and fared forth in his company to the abodeof the Costivans.
"Can't stand that Overton," volunteered Carstairs, as soon as they wereat a safe distance from the vicarage gate. "Always poking his blessed'humanity' ideas down a man's throat and snivelling over people'ssouls."
"Just so. Quite agree with you, Mr. Carstairs."
"Fancy his wasting pity on a bounder like Captain Paul Sandringham! Idon't hold with any such nonsense."
"And, as you very properly said, it makes one the less to reckon with.My sentiments exactly, Mr. Carstairs. It will be a welcome bit of newsto the duke, I take it; and he's got enough worry on his mind over thisbusiness."
"More than enough. Ghastly sort of business, isn't it? Formed any sortof an idea, Mr. Headland?"
"None worth speaking of. Hasn't been time. I should have said it wasboys up to a lark, if it hadn't been for the killing of that chap Davislast night. Wish I'd been somewhere about then, or could meet withsomebody who heard the sounds of the struggle. Don't happen to know ofanybody that did, do you?"
"That I don't. As a matter of fact, I don't think anybody did hear ablessed thing of it. Nobody had the least idea that anything had reallyhappened to him until the vicar found the body at the foot of thataccursed bell-tower this morning. Of course, if anybody was likely tohave heard anything, he would be the one--the vicarage is so near, youknow. But he never heard a sound."
"Heavy sleeper, I suppose."
"On the contrary, according to Mrs. Marden, his housekeeper, he's anexceedingly light one. Even lighter than herself, she says, and it's herboast that an owl flying past would wake _her_."
"She hear anything last night, then?"
"Not a sound--beyond the clanging of the bells. But she's getting usedto them. Besides, they don't last long, you know. Just off and on nowand again, and never later than eleven or twelve o'clock. Last night,however, they started earlier than they ever did before--about ten, Ibelieve, and they never sounded a solitary peal after half-past."
"H'm! maybe the murder was committed whilst they _were_ pealing, then.That would account for her not hearing the struggle, of course."
"She says not, though. Constable suggested that first thing. Says she'sbecome so used to the bells they don't affect her hearing of otherthings at all--that she could hear any other sound that there might beright through the pealing of them. She called vicar to prove that onenight last week she cried out to him while the things were ringing tosay that she believed he must have left the door of the stable open, asshe could hear a scratching noise in there. Vicar dressed and ran out,and sure enough he had left the door open and there was an old dog foxin the place trying to scratch his way through to the fowl-house. If shecould have heard that through the sound of the bells it's pretty certainshe could have heard Davis putting up a fight if he had been attacked byanything human. But he wasn't! You take my word for it, Mr. Headland,devils are at the bottom of this business, and the thing will never bestopped until that dead Johnnie's body is dug up out of the churchyardand carried out to sea and chucked overboard."
Cleek had
no opportunity to reply, for at that moment the quiet of thecountry was suddenly broken by the sharp _Honk! honk!_ of a motor-horn,and round the bend of the road swung a high-powered car, driven by aliveried chauffeur, and containing an overdressed gentleman of a dark,Hebraic cast of countenance.
"That will be Sir Julius Solinski, the great company promoter,"explained Carstairs, offhandedly. "Got a fine place over Framleigh way.Motors through here every day about this time. Same old course, withouta break or a change--down here, round the curve, past the cottage wherethose Hurdon people live, and then down behind the grounds of theCastle and off Willowby Old Church way. Should think he'd be about fedup with it by this time."
"Ever stop anywhere on the road?"
"Not that I know of. Never seen him do so, at all events. Still, ofcourse, he might, you know, without---- Here we are at last. This iswhere you and your friend are to put up, Mr. Headland. Come in."
Cleek had merely time to remark that the cottage was a thatched one witha goodly allowance of garden surrounding it on all sides, and that thetops of tall trees were visible in the rear, showing that it was closeto the adjacent woodland, when following Carstairs' lead, he walkedinside. He was at once presented to a young, dark-haired, exceedinglypretty girl whose bright eyes impressed him with an odd sense offamiliarity. Somewhere, somehow, he said to himself, he had certainlyseen someone who bore a very marked resemblance to Miss Emmy Costivan.