CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A CLEW FROM THE AIR
Cleek did not have to wait for his answer.
"Yes, certainly I will," said Geoff instantly. "If there's nothing morethan that behind it, I'll give you my word of honour and go this momentif you want me to do so."
"And you will say nothing, absolutely nothing, to any living soul aboutthis--about me--about anything that has happened here?"
Young Clavering gave his promise promptly; and, with equal promptness,Cleek walked forward, unlocked the handcuff, and set him free, leadinghim back along the passage to the stone steps, and being careful as theypassed through the cell where the murdered Common keeper's clothing laythat no ray from the torch should disclose his ghastly find. At the footof the stone staircase he came to a halt.
"Now go," he said, "and remember that I trust you. Come back when youlike to-morrow and make what explanation you please regarding yourabsence. I've trusted you with one or two secrets, and I will trust youwith another: there's good proof, my lad, that what you said about LadyKatharine Fordham being at Gleer Cottage last night is the truth inspite of her denial. She dropped the scent capsule from her braceletthere, and I found it a few minutes before my boy Dollops found youhiding in the hollow tree. No, no, no! Don't get excited. There'snothing in that discovery to prove the lady guilty of any part in thisabominable crime. Last night I was inclined to think that that littlegolden globe pointed toward her having been at least a confederate;to-day I have changed my mind, and since I overheard that conversationbetween you two, I have come to the conclusion that it proves herabsolutely innocent of any complicity whatsoever."
"But how, Mr. Barch?-- I mean Cleek. You know that she was there; youknow that I, too, was there. It's no use denying that since you're'Monsieur de Lesparre' as well as what you are. You heard her deny herpresence. You heard her say that she did not show me into the room whereDe Louvisan's body was. But she did; as God hears me, she did, thoughI'll never believe her guilty"--this in a last wild effort to divertsuspicion from her--"whatever I might have said, whatever you may havediscovered against her."
"I have just said there is nothing against her," said Cleek, with one ofhis curious smiles. "I have come to the conclusion that she is not acriminal, but a martyr. I don't believe she has any more idea of whomurdered De Louvisan, or why, than has a child in its cradle. I know yousay that she showed you into the room where the dead man's body was;but I don't believe, my friend, that she was there. I don't believe sheever saw him again after she left Clavering Close, and I do not believethat she had the slightest idea that the man--either living or dead--wasin Gleer Cottage when she led you into it."
"Then why did she lead me into it? Why did she run away and leave methere with his dead body? Where did she go? What did she mean by sayingwhat she did about showing me something that would light the way back tothe land of happiness?"
"I hope to be able to tell you all that to-morrow, my friend," repliedCleek. "Indeed, I may be able to tell it this very night; for if thereis anything in the Loisette theory of recurring events acting upon aweary brain and producing similar results when----No matter, we shallknow all about that later. In spite of the fact that that scent capsulewas dropped in the room where the murder was committed, and droppedbefore you were shown in there, as proved by the fact that you crushedit beneath your feet and carried the odour of it from the house withyou, I do not believe that Lady Katharine knew one word of De Louvisan'sdeath until the news of it was carried to her this morning. There!That's the last 'secret' I am going to let you into for the present.Now, then, off with you; and not a word to anybody before to-morrow. Butone last thing"--this as Geoffrey began to run up the steps toward theopen trapdoor--"if you should happen by any chance to catch a glimpse ofMr. Harry Raynor while you are in town to-night, keep an eye onhim--see whom he meets, see where he goes, and mind that he does not seeyou."
"Harry Raynor? I say"--eagerly--"do you think it possible that thatbounder----"
"No, I don't! A worm and a snake are two entirely different things. Thatyoung gentleman never killed anything but time and the respect of decentmen in all the days of his worthless life. He hasn't the necessary grit.But watch him if you run foul of him. He may know something that isworth while finding out; and, besides that, somebody or something calledhim away very suddenly this afternoon before I could get a chance tosound him on a most important subject. He knows a person who is verylikely to be somewhere at the bottom of this case, that's all. Good-bye.And--oh, stop a bit! Just one more word: Happen to know anybody besidesMr. Harry Raynor who is addicted to the use of black cosmetic for themoustache?"
"Yes," said Geoffrey, pausing halfway up the staircase, and caught bythe artfulness of this apparently artless question. "Know two other men.Why?"
"Oh, nothing in particular; only that I'd like to borrow some. Who arethe two men in question?"
"Lord St. Ulmer, for one."
"Lord St.---- Hum-m-m! Just so! Just so! And the other; who's he?"
"Why, my dad. Used it for years, bless his bully old heart!"
"Your---- Good-bye!" said Cleek with a curious "snap" in his voice;then he faced round suddenly and walked back down the undergroundpassage and left Geoff to go his way.
But if he said nothing his thoughts were busy; and this new move in thegame, this new fish in the net, troubled him a great deal. He could notbut remember that Sir Philip Clavering was this young man's adoringfather; that he was also Lady Clavering's husband, who, as he had justheard from her stepson, was an Austrian; that the pseudo Count deLouvisan was also an Austrian, and after his unexpected appearance atClavering Close last night Lady Clavering had had a sudden attack ofillness, had left her guests at supper and retired to her own room, andafterward had gone out on the Common and had bribed the keeper not tomention having seen her.
Why did she go out? Of course that was all nonsense about her beinganxious over Geoff; but, still--why? To meet some one? You never couldbe quite sure, quite safe, in dealing with those Continental women.After all, morality is merely a question of geography. Suppose--simplyby way of argument, you know, nothing more--suppose the lady had had alove affair years before Sir Philip Clavering had met and married her?Suppose when De Louvisan turned up she had recognized in him, and he hadrecognized in her---- Quite so! Quite so! De Louvisan, an adventurerpure and simple, would be likely to make capital out of a hold obtainedover the wife of an English millionaire. It would be imperative for herto see him at once and buy his silence if she could. Of course! Ofcourse! Gleer Cottage was within easy reaching distance; Gleer Cottagewas known to be absolutely deserted; and if one wanted to have a secretinterview---- And to carry the hypothesis further, suppose Sir PhilipClavering, anxious over his wife's condition, should run up to her roomto inquire about her, and, finding her gone, should trace her movements,go out after her, follow until he came to Gleer Cottage; and as soon asshe and De Louvisan had parted---- Well, there you are! Then, too, SirPhilip Clavering was addicted to the use of black cosmetic! And themarks on the dead man's shirt front were---- Heigho! You never know! Younever know! But for the boy's sake and for the sake of Narkom's fondnessfor both----
His thoughts dropped off. He had come again to the cell where themurdered keeper's clothes lay, just where he had flung them down whenthe coming of Geoff and Lady Katharine had attracted his attention andturned his interest in another direction. Now he had time to turn tothem again.
If, by any chance, it really had been Sir Philip Clavering, how camethese clothes buried in the grounds of Wuthering Grange? Of course theGeneral's "ruin" was famous all over the district; and, naturally, if aman of Sir Philip Clavering's keen wits were the assassin, he would takemeans to get the things hidden away as expeditiously as possible, and asfar away from his own place as circumstances would permit. He wouldn'tknow, of course, that circumstances would arise that would point to anoccupant of Wuthering Grange--Lady Katharine--being implicated and anysearch of the place result, and he would be quite free
from wishing tolead the trail in that direction. Of course, when he learned that he haddone so--as learn everybody must in a day or two--he would do his bestto get rid of the things, and when that happened---- Ah, well! poordevil, it would be the end of one rope and the beginning of another.
It was an old, old trick of the assassin's, this burying things and thenharking back to the spot either to remove them or to see if they weresafe; and this assassin, whosoever he might prove to be, would be sureto follow the universal precedent. When he did----! Cleek bundled theclothing back into the hole, took up the spade, shovelled back theearth, and made the spot look as nearly as possible as it had been whenhe stumbled upon it.
"A little bit of spy work for Dollops," was his unspoken thought. "Hecan spend a few days down here very profitably, and be ready to give thesignal when the man comes."
He put the spade back in the place where he had found it, and, facingabout, went up the stone steps, and after replacing the movable slab,made his way out of the ruin; for it was now time to be about the taskof dressing for dinner and what promised to be an eventful evening.
Should he take Miss Lorne into his confidence or not? Yes, he fanciedthat he would. For one thing, she knew Lady Clavering and he did not,and as it would be necessary for him to get out after dark and prowlabout the Common to learn if her ladyship did or did not join in thesearch for the missing Geoff----Hullo! What the dickens was that?
A very simple thing, indeed, when he came to investigate it. By thistime he had come abreast of the house itself, and was moving along underthe shadow of the deepening twilight when the circumstances which senthis thoughts off from the plans he was mapping out occurred. It wasnothing more nor less than the fluttering down through the still air ofa soft flaky substance, which struck him in the face and then droppedsoftly upon his sleeve--a small charred scrap of burnt paper. He lookedup, and saw that it had fallen from other charred scraps that clung tothe prickly branches of a huge monkey-puzzle tree close to the anglewhere a recently added wing joined the main structure of the house.
A window was above that tree, and a chimney was above that window.Hum-m-m! Second window from the angle--Lord St. Ulmer's room. What wasLord St. Ulmer burning papers for? What sort of papers had he that itwas necessary for him--a supposed invalid--to get out of bed anddestroy? And why in the world should he choose this particular day to doit? And a lot of paper, too, by George! judging from the quantity ofcharred scraps clinging to that monkey-puzzle. What an ass the man wasto burn things when there was no wind to carry off the ashes andwhen---- He looked down and saw one or two half-burned discs of paper,which had escaped entire destruction, lying upon the gravel of the path.
He stooped and picked one up. It was a circular white label, printed onone side and gummed on the other, just the sort of label which chemistsand proprietors of patent ointments use to affix to the lids of theround tin boxes containing their wares. The thing was partly burnt awayuntil, from being originally a complete circle, it was now merely a"half moon" of white paper with charred fragments clinging to thefire-bitten gap in it.
He turned the thing over and looked at its printed side. Part of thatprinting had been destroyed, but there was still enough of it to showfor what the label had been prepared.
Evidently Lord St. Ulmer had been engaged in burning labels, unusedlabels, that had been prepared for boxes containing a patent blackingfor boots, shoes, and leather goods generally.