CHAPTER XX
A TWISTED CLUE
Before another quarter of an hour had passed Cleek was the sole inmateof Cheyne Court. He sat with shoulders hunched up and head thrustforward, seeking to pierce the cloud that hung over the heads of the twoyoung people to both of whom he had been undeniably attracted.
He was as anxious to restore Lady Margaret to the arms of her lover asSir Edgar himself and it was only because he felt that the discovery ofthe Purple Emperor would be bound up in some inexplicable manner withthe girl herself that he had striven to elucidate the puzzle.
He had contrived to get the inquest postponed for a week, for he feltinstinctively that had the case been left to take its course, a verdictagainst Sir Edgar Brenton of wilful murder would have been the result.Like a flash had come back to him the words of Ailsa Lorne about SirEdgar's purchase of prussic acid to poison an old dog. And after all, ithad never been used; at least not for that purpose! Had it then beenonly a blind? Had the desperate lover conceived the plot to murder thewoman whom he believed to stand in the way of his marriage with LadyMargaret? Impossible! Yet love is a strange madness. And what had hebeen doing with the revolver in his pocket on that first night? Where,too, did Miss Jennifer and her idiot of a brother come into the puzzle,_and_ Lady Brenton? Cleek pinched up his chin and stood a moment lookingout of the window across the stretch of straggling, unkempt lawn thatlay beyond it. He was seated in the wide window seat of the ballroomthat had been the scene of the dual tragedy. All at once his trainedears caught the sound of a footfall on the path outside the window. Nota man's foot, either! What woman was it that would remain behind in thisplace of ill omen? Noiselessly he raised his head and looked out of thewindow, but he was unable to see any one. He listened intently, then, ofa sudden, twitched up his head with a jerk, and crouched forward.
For the woman's footfalls had ceased, brought to a stop by othersheavier, yet light in themselves, padding swiftly along the path. Nosooner had they got within hailing distance of the woman than the eager,frightened voice of Lady Brenton sounded across the silence of thedeserted place.
"Mr. Dall," said that enlightening voice, with the catch of a half-sobin it. "Thank Heaven you have not gone! This is the only place where wecan meet with safety. Why--oh, why did you mention about those lacescarves? You don't know how they will gossip now, all the narrow-minded,evil-thinking folk in the neighbourhood. Why did you want to see me herelike this? Tell me quickly, for I am frightened to death of this place."
"Are you?" the Hindoo's voice was smooth, almost sneering. "My dearlady, why be more frightened by day than by night? You were notfrightened when you fluttered in by that window barely a month ago. Didyou kill the old lady? I wonder--why were you not honest with me?"
"Kill? Kill whom, Mr. Dall? My God, what are you talking about?"
The sneer in the Hindoo's voice was less veiled than ever.
"Why, the real Miss Cheyne, of course. Why didn't you leave that to me?I should have done it far better, believe me."
Cleek caught the sound of a strangled breath and his pulses drummed.
"Good Heavens, man!" came Lady Brenton's voice again, "are you mad toaccuse me of such a thing? Why should I murder her, poor creature? Andhow?"
Came a cackle of harsh laughter like a shot on a tin roof.
"Well acted, my lady, but it won't work. Don't forget, I saw you in thatvery room, when, according to our old friend, Constable Roberts, MissCheyne was dead. Well, who killed her, I say? You did not know I saw youbut I caught sight of your golden scarf as you bent over the body----"
Cleek sucked in his breath hard and a brighter sparkle shone in hishalf-shut eyes. So Lady Brenton was there, was she? If this were true,then Sir Edgar knew more than he professed, and he was shielding someoneother than Lady Margaret--and that someone was his own mother!
Lady Brenton had remained perfectly still, as though dumbfounded at thecharge made against her. Either that was it, or she was striving howbest to free herself from the power of this man who held her guiltysecret.
Then she spoke suddenly.
"You really mean that you think I killed that poor defenceless oldwoman?"
Cleek could fairly see the cynical smile that crept over the man'sfeatures, for the tones of his voice betrayed it.
"Dear lady," he answered, "it is what anybody would say if they had seenyou, as I saw you, emerge from that room with a gold lace scarf roundyour face. I watched you cross that lawn and vanish in the darkness."
"That is not the truth," she flung back with a sudden awakening from thekind of stupor which up till now had overcome her. "I never wore thatgold scarf for the simple reason I did not possess one at that time. Iwas never near Cheyne Court. If you say you saw me, you are saying whatis absolutely untrue. And there is another thing, since you are so surethat I was responsible for that horrible deed, what were you doing atCheyne Court that night at all?"
Gunga Dall's answer to Lady Brenton's question was given so quickly,even as Cleek himself echoed the thought in his own mind, that he mightwell have been forgiven in believing that it had been preparedbeforehand.
"I followed you, my dear lady----"
"Followed me?" she repeated. "From where, pray? Oh, this isintolerable!"
"I saw you as I turned into the lane and I rather wondered, as was onlynatural, what you were doing at that unearthly hour and place."
"So I should think," responded Lady Brenton with a little sniff ofdisdain; "the same might apply to you, Mr. Dall."
That gentleman laughed softly.
"I came to see if I could speak to Lady Margaret Cheyne," he replied,"you must remember I had met her previously in Paris."
"I do remember, only too plainly, and how you gave me no peace till Ihad introduced you, but that is no reason why you should call upon herat night, after she had had a long journey. Besides, how did you knowshe was expected home? I hardly knew myself till quite late and by achance word overheard from Miss Cheyne herself in the post office. Howdid _you_ come to hear of it?"
That very idea was already formulating itself in Cleek's own mind at thesame time. How, indeed? But Gunga Dall was evidently prepared for thequestion.
"In the same way as yourself, my dear lady," he returned, glibly, "theyoung lady at the office was busy talking about Lady Margaret's returnand I made up my mind then to pay her a visit, but I had not intended tocall at that hour. I just took a little walk and my steps led me byaccident--or what you English people call Providence--past the house.Then I saw you, and you beckoned to me, so naturally I followed in yourwake. I saw you enter the house, the front door was open, and I waitedand waited, and at last out of curiosity I, too, went through the door,and closed it behind me.
"I tell you when I stood in that ballroom, and lit a match for acigarette and saw that old woman dead, and you bending over her----"
"It is a _lie_!" threw in Lady Brenton, vehemently. "I was never there!Never!"
"But you were!" he repeated, emphatically. "What is the use of denyingwhat we both know? At sight of you there I was staggered--is not thatyour word?--and turning on my heel I ran right out of the house. Then Iremembered you were still in the place, and to try and help you, dearlady, I went back, and peered through that window. I could not have goneinto it--no, not for a thousand rupees! The horror of it all was sostrong! But fortunately you were gone, and so I have bided my time totell you what I want, both from you and your interesting son Edgar."
All this time Lady Brenton had remained as if stupefied by this web thatwas being woven round her, but the sound of her beloved son's namearoused her.
"Edgar!" she cried in a high, shrill voice. "What has he got to do withit?"
"Everything, dear lady," was the smooth reply, "for when I came out ofthe grounds I walked nearly up against him, and he was in such a stateof agitation that he never even noticed me till I spoke to him!"
"_Edgar?_" echoed Lady Brenton again, a note of fear as well assurprise in her voice. "Edgar in the grounds of
Cheyne Court on thatnight?" and Cleek could have blessed her for the note of doubt which hertone held, for this was assuredly one of the points which he himselfdesired to have explained satisfactorily. "But what was Edgar doing atsuch an hour and in such a place? Why, he was at a public dinner, now Iremember, so it is impossible!"
"Not so impossible, dear lady. Sir Edgar himself said that he had cometo meet Lady Margaret."
In the shadow of the window curtain Cleek puckered up his brows andthoughtfully pinched his chin. So that was the young gentleman'sexplanation of his presence in the grounds, was it? Plausible enough,though it differed greatly from the explanation he had tendered toLieutenant Deland. However, that was only to be expected.... After all,it might be merely a red herring drawn across the path. Surely, thestation was the right place to await a fiancee's return from abroad, notthe grounds of her home--late at night! But then he had little belief inthe young man's guilt, and there was every possibility that Sir Edgarhad followed in his mother's footsteps with a view to finding out herpurpose.
For that Lady Brenton had been in that vicinity, Cleek felt almostcertain despite her vehement denial. The bond between mother and son wasbeyond all doubt a very close one. It might well be that the two hadplayed at cross purposes and been bent on shielding one another. But hehad not thought that Sir Edgar----
Gunga Dall's soft, purring voice broke in upon his thoughts, and Cleekpricked up his ears to listen.
"It was his mention of Lady Margaret that made me wonder whether you,too, had gone for that purpose," the Hindoo went on, "that's how I cameto see you there, I suppose----"
"You did not see me there!" she flung back, indignantly. "Really, thisis unbearable! I tell you I was not near Cheyne Court that night, Mr.Dall, and I will not stop another second to hear such abominable chargesagainst me! No, please do not follow me, or speak to me, you have doneme injury enough this morning with your foolish blundering remark aboutthe scarves."
A moment she stood there irresolute, then turned and sped down the pathacross the lawn like a fleet shadow. As she went, Cleek heard the soundof a soft, throaty chuckle which came to him as he crouched in hishiding place. Then the padding footsteps followed in Lady Brenton's wakeand died away into the silence of the deserted place.
For a moment Cleek sat there, lost in thought. There had been a certainnote of truth in the voice of Gunga Dall which told him instinctivelythat Lady Brenton had been there on that night, deny it as she might,and Sir Edgar, too. That both would fight tooth and nail to keep theirvisit a secret to the world he felt no less assured.
But why had either of them--mother or son--been concealed in the housethat night? Could it have been Lady Brenton whose figure had flittedacross the lawn before his startled eyes? True, it had worn a gold scarfand, according to her ladyship, at that moment she had not possessedsuch an article. Still, there was more than one kind of gold scarf inthe world, and even Indian ones were quite easily obtainable.
Then why had she been forced to introduce Gunga Dall to Lady Margaretwhen the child had been in Paris? Was there some power that the Hindoopossessed over the elder woman? All these thoughts raced through hismind--but----
And then of a sudden he became alert, for out of the silence of thenight and in at the window again came the sound of footsteps tip-toeingsoftly by. Even as he stared out with sharp, discerning eyes, a figureflitted by. It was a figure that made Cleek's heart beat wildly for itwas the figure of Sir Edgar Brenton himself!