CHAPTER XV
TANGLED THREADS
Cleek screwed round on his heel, and watched the approach of thisinteresting pair with undisguised interest. Dollops' discovery had notbeen without its effect on him, although he proposed taking no activesteps at present.
He might reasonably have expected Miss Wynne to make every effort tokeep out of his way, but she was evidently bent on being seen asprominently as possible. By daylight she was even more attractive thanshe had appeared on the preceding night, and made a decidedly charmingpicture. Cleek found himself wondering how Sir Edgar had withstood herallurement, even with the memory of Lady Margaret Cheyne in his heart.The frail, frightened child fresh from the convent, patrician though shewas, could not hold a candle, as the saying goes, to this daughter of acountry doctor. Again the thought flashed across his mind. Was it all ablind, this man's love for the girl endowed with such a precious dowry;or did he but wish to obtain them in order that he might bring a biggerfortune to the hands of this country syren? He dismissed the ideainstantly as unworthy of the man to whom he had taken an instinctiveliking, notwithstanding the fact that by his reticence he was helping tocomplicate this most difficult case.
"Good morning, Mr. Policeman," said Miss Wynne, gaily, when the mutualintroduction had been made. "I hope you have come to the conclusion thismorning that I am not a suspicious character. Last night he wanted toarrest me for murder, Miss Lorne," and she gave a little shiver soobviously artificial that Cleek glanced at her quickly throughhalf-narrowed lids.
"I should hope so, Miss Wynne," he said with an air of elaboratecarelessness, which only Ailsa recognized at its true value. "No onewould think of connecting so gruesome a thing as murder with _you_. Ithink we shall probably find it a case of suicide after all, don't youknow."
Miss Wynne eyed him in open-eyed astonishment mingled with somethingthat was closely akin to relief and then gave another affected giggle.
Miss Lorne had ignored her completely, knowing that Cleek was but posingfor some purpose of his own, but now, in order to give him anopportunity to tackle Bobby Wynne, she engaged Jennifer inconversation.
Cleek did not take much liking to this exuberant young gentleman. Abouttwo and twenty, the evident idol of his sister, he was of a type who isto be found studying every sporting paper, and anxiously awaiting thearrival of each edition of the _Evening News_, to discover his gains orlosses. It was not long before Cleek had him sized up, and a casualremark about waiting for a tip for to-morrow's Windsor 2:30 race, and apromise to pass it on to the young gentleman directly it came, made himhis friend for life.
"It's all very well for silly girls like Jennifer to go on againstracing. It's the finest sport in the world!" said young Wynne to Cleekas he edged him farther up the narrow lane and spoke in a confidentialwhisper, lest his voice should reach the sharp ears of his sister,though she was apparently deep in conversation with Ailsa.
"I can do with a good tip," went on this refreshing youth, "for I don'tmind telling you that I got pretty badly hit at Newmarket last week.Newmarket always plays the deuce with me. Luckily Jenny sold some of herprecious flowers and pulled me out of the hole, more than L50, you know.Pretty bad little hole, eh, what?"
He gave a fatuous little giggle that made Cleek feel inclined to shakehim.
"But I don't mind, I'll win it all back next week, and I'll make it upto her," he went on hopefully, with a wink at his companion.
But Cleek's mind was now working at lightning speed, though he wasapparently deeply interested in Wynne's conversation.
Fifty pounds paid for flowers. What flowers could this girl raise in ariverside cottage that would produce such a sum? Somebody must have paidheavily for something other than flowers; that was certain.
"Talking of flowers," he said, casually, as young Wynne stopped to lighta fresh cigarette. "I'm a bit of a ruralist at times, and I'd like tosee Miss Wynne's collection if I may. I go in for dahlias myself, but Isuppose Miss Wynne's flowers are pretty valuable; orchids, and suchlike."
"Good lord, no, only those beastly smelling, sickly funeral flowers,hyacinths and tulip things," was the reply in an off-hand manner, "cheapas dirt they are, and how she gets the money beats me. But then Jennyalways was a problem since the day she was born."
Cleek felt he wanted to see more of this interesting pair before he haddone with them. Already he had gained some valuable information, forMiss Jennifer Wynne had evidently been well paid for her flowers,hyacinths or tulips or whatever they might be, or she could never havegiven this young idiot fifty pounds to pay his racing debts.
So well did he contrive to work his way into the good graces of bothbrother and sister that when Ailsa insisted on taking the short cutthrough the fields to her own home alone, Cleek was easily persuaded toreturn for lunch to the house where the young couple had lived eversince the days before their father's death. Herein were pictures ofevery horse, jockey, and trainer that had ever lived.
"See that horse there, Beauty?" said Wynne, after they had been in thehouse a few minutes. "Well, that old sport got me the finest gold watchI ever saw. That one over there is Bay Tree II, the best tip I ever had,100 to 1 chance. Only I didn't have more than ten bob in my pockets,worse luck. I'll tell you about the rest after lunch if you like."
Cleek was frankly bored, but he kept his feeling in restraint, being onthe watch to get what information he could.
"Delighted, my boy!" he said, cordially. Then as the sound of footstepscrunching on the gravel outside came to his alert ears, he stoppedshort, and Wynne looked down through the open window and withdrew hishead with a little muttered exclamation of disgust.
"Oh, hang it all," he growled, "now we're in for a visitation from thatdoctor chap. I can't stand that fellow Verrall at any price."
Dr. Verrall! Cleek turned as he heard the name and looked out of thewindow. He would have given anything to have overheard the meetingbetween him and Miss Jennifer downstairs.
That there was some secret connection between them he felt sure, andthat Dr. Verrall would try to shield the girl he loved, even at the costof his professional honour, was also an assured fact. He must get downas quickly and as quietly as possible, and he blamed himself and Bobby,whose offer to show him his pictures was the cause of his having beenout of the room.
"Lord," he muttered, clapping his hand to his forehead and wheelinground blindly, "'pon me soul, I think he's just in time. Got one ofthese staggering attacks--got it through the Boer War, dontcher know.Don't you trouble, old man, I'll find my way down myself."
He lurched across the room and just as he passed the edge of theold-fashioned chest of drawers against the wall, his elbow caught theprojecting edge of a book, and with a crash it fell to his feet. Frombetween its leaves there fell some sporting prints, and a photograph ofa man. Cleek stooped to replace them, when young Wynne sprang forwardalmost excitedly, snatching them from his hand, but not before Cleek hadmade a startling discovery. The picture was that of the man who laymurdered in the house of mystery, Cheyne Court. As if realizing that hisact needed apology, young Wynne put the photo hastily back.
"Sorry I snapped at you, old chap," he said, a flush of mortificationreddening his face. "Don't think me an ill-bred pup. Fact is, I was abit excited and forgot for a moment. But that chap's a pal of mine,first class tipster he is, too. Jenny can't bear him, and if she knew Istill get tips from him, she'd carry on like a wild cat, so mum's theword, old man."
"Of course," replied Cleek, hastily, a trifle shaken it must beconfessed by this astonishing discovery. "'Tisn't likely I'm going tobetray secrets--men of the world both of us." He winked broadly andyoung Wynne, his fears allayed and highly flattered at this "man of theworld's" appreciation of him, winked back. "Besides, I shouldn't besurprised if that gentleman and I are not old acquaintances if Iremember rightly."
Wynne fell into the trap as neatly as a mouse after a piece of cheese.
"What--Blake?" he ejaculated involuntarily.
"Ah, yes," Cleek nod
ded. "I thought as much. I knew I was right," heexclaimed with well-simulated enthusiasm. "That chap Blake did me a goodturn once, bit of a tipster myself, but not a patch on him, dontcherknow."
"Don't think any one could beat that old sport!" agreed Wynne,complacently, "why, he was the one who gave me the tip for Baytree--butI've had rotten luck lately. I don't know how I shall ever pay him."
Hmn---- Pay him? So that was how the land lay, was it? The boy washeavily in debt to Blake, and if he had been at Cheyne Court thatnight....
No, that was wrong, too, for there had been no trace of Bobby Wynne--upto the present.
Meanwhile that young gentleman was obviously waiting to lead himdownstairs, and Cleek hesitated, trying to make up his mind what to dofor the best.
He would have liked to stay in this racing den, try to trace theconnection between Blake the tipster and Blake the head of the PentacleClub, and to find out whether Master Bobby Wynne had had any suspicionsas to the real identity of the "mistress" of Cheyne Court. But otherthings called. There was that Verrall chap downstairs with JenniferWynne herself. And the question of those utterly priceless flowers thatcould fetch as much as fifty pounds for their grower.
Silently he followed his host downstairs, still looking a bit hang-dogabout the mouth for he was far too careful in his methods to cast anydoubt regarding the genuineness of that sudden attack of a moment beforeby pretending that it was already over.
Nor did he fear that he had lost all opportunity for pursuing thesubject of Bobby Wynne's acquaintance with the murdered man. The merefact that the young man feared discovery of his connection with thisBlake proved conclusively that he knew his danger and that at any momentinquiry might be made, even though there was no actual proof that he hadbeen in the vicinity of Cheyne Court that night.
"Fearfully groggy, old chap," he said in answer to Wynne's inquiry as towhether he felt any better. They were passing down a dark, narrowpassage at the moment and a little door stood ajar toward the end of it.A quick glance showed Cleek that the room beyond this door was linedwith shelves on which stood numerous rows of bottles.
Bobby Wynne's face seemed to whiten with unwonted anger. He gave a sharpexclamation, and ran back to close the door quickly.
"The old guv'nor's surgery," he said in explanation. "Wonder who's beenin? Door's been kept locked ever since the old man died. Hullo,Headland, you're not going to have another attack, are you?" For Cleekhad suddenly lurched against the bannister at the head of the stairs,and swung round, until his back was resting against it.
He lolled his head back, gave a sort of hollow groan, and then undercover of this began swiftly to count the doors in order to make sure ofthe location of that surgery.
"No, it's only just a passing spasm. I was just wondering whether yourold dad had anything in his surgery to pull me together, clever chapssome of these doctors, dontcher know."
Bobby Wynne groaned. For once he was disposed to be cautious, and therewas evidently some reason why he did not wish any one to look into thatsurgery. And that was just why Cleek wanted to get into it. He felttolerably sure that it would contain a quantity of prussic acid, and astab of memory brought up the sight of long, slender finger-marks----
Get into that room he must. So leaning heavily on young Wynne, he said"I'm all right now. I'll get a pick-me-up presently."
And descending the staircase arm in arm, they entered the dining roomtogether.