CHAPTER XXIII
UNTWISTING THE THREADS
In the big uncurtained ballroom of Cheyne Court the next morning, aplentiful gathering assembled for the inquest which had been postponedfrom the week before, and Mr. Narkom, who had entered with Cleek and anumber of strangers that to an observant eye would have revealedthemselves as plain-clothes men, watched the entry of every newcomerwith almost morbid expectancy.
Early arrivals were Lady Brenton and Sir Edgar, who at Cleek's requesthad returned from town that same morning, after a presumably futilesearch for any trace of Lady Margaret. The boy's face was lined andanxious, his nerves evidently strained to breaking point. Close besidehim sat Lady Brenton, her arm clenched tight in his, and Cleek smiled alittle as he noticed that she wore a gold scarf--obviously the one whichhad been given such unwonted publicity the preceding week. It was notexactly morning attire, but she had evidently worn it in defiance of allgossip.
Jennifer Wynne and her brother were there, too, pale both of them, witheyes that told a tale of sleepless nights. Close beside them stood theimmaculate, dapper figure of Gunga Dall, his dark eyes flashing from oneface to the other, and lingering with a little smile on the perturbedcountenance of Lady Brenton. It seemed as though he were quite satisfiedwith his work.
For a little while Cleek appeared to take no notice whatsoever of hissurroundings, and it was not until the Coroner had got through thepreliminaries of the inquest and proposed calling a witness that Cleekroused himself from his reverie, and said in a clear, incisive voice:
"Witnesses are unnecessary, Mr. Coroner, for I will venture to call onthe murderer himself."
Had a bombshell fallen near the assembly it could not have caused moreconsternation, and Cleek, as he took the centre of the room, let thequeer, one-sided smile travel up his face. There was a theatrical touchin this announcement which pleased him considerably.
"Yes, one murderer," he continued, "the other, fortunately, is dead. No,Mr. Wynne," he continued, rapidly, "please don't try to get to thatdoor, they are all guarded and the windows, too. So if you don'tmind----"
Suddenly he leapt swiftly in Bobby Wynne's direction. The startled youngman was standing as if rooted to the spot, powerless with terror to movea step further. But with a spring Cleek bore down upon the figure of theman who was sitting smiling and complacent beside him--the figure of theHindoo, Gunga Dall!
"Got you, you beauty! Got you!" he exclaimed, as the man tried to fighthim off. "Thought to evade justice by casting the blame upon another,eh? But you came to the wrong person this time. Here, Petrie, Hammond,snap the bracelets on him, for he's as slippery as the proverbial eel,and I've no desire to have my wrists broken. That's it! Now the fish iscaught at last. The game's up, Jimmy my lad."
Speaking he bent forward and stared into the man's dark, furious face.As he did so, the man's lips opened, and from his mouth issued a streamof cockney vituperation which would have shamed a Billingsgatebarrow-holder.
"'Ere what yer gettin' at, blarst yer!" ended up the erstwhile GungaDall as his breath failed him. "And why does yer call me Jimmy? Justlike yer bloomin' cheek, damn yer!"
"And just like my blooming knowledge, too, my friend," responded Cleekwith a little harsh laugh. "I don't forget friends quite so soon as youdo, Blake. Remember me now?"
Of a sudden his features writhed, twisted, altered, and the man whom headdressed as Blake, looking up into his eyes, turned white and shrankback with a sudden, overpowering fear.
"God! the Cracksman," he ejaculated, and his head fell forward upon hisbreast.
"Yes, and now--just Cleek, of Scotland Yard," came the reply.
"_Cleek!_" exclaimed the Coroner in amazement, and the name echoed fromevery mouth in that crowded room.
"Just Cleek," was the reply.
Suddenly Blake's face underwent a change.
"I don't care who you are, blarst yer! I haven't done nothing but get upas an Indian, and there's nothing criminal in _that_!"
"No, my friend," said Cleek, quietly. "But there is in murder and whenit comes to killing your own brother--what's that? Oh, yes, it is. Iknow the dead man now: Sam Blake, tipster and member of the PentacleClub. And you--you are James Blake, head of the Club, the biggest gangof jewel thieves in the world!"
"It's a lie!" shrieked the man. "I am not. I did not kill him!"
"You did," flung back Cleek. "You killed him with a little white pelletof prussic acid. I daresay--yes--they are----" His deft fingers felt inone of the resisting man's pockets.
With a little gasp of triumph, he held up a small box, and opening thelid, showed about a dozen white pellets similar to the fragment found inthe mouth of the dead man. His face grew tense and grim as he surveyedthem.
"See, here is the weapon," he said, "and if you want further proof, Ihave it here in finger-prints. These are the official prints of JamesBlake, and they correspond to the marks on the dead man's throat. Onemore thing, the footprints----"
Diving into his pocket, Cleek produced the roll of papers over whichDollops had taken such care.
"See," he said in sharp tones, "these are the marks of the footprintswhich led direct from the body itself. These, too, are the footprintswhich I found in Miss Jennifer Wynne's garden, at the foot of a certainwindow. To make things more sure, I think you will find that this"--heheld up a scrap of gray tweed material--"is proof that this interestinggentleman climbed up by means of the wistaria plant, and obtained theprussic acid and magnesia from old Dr. Wynne's surgery."
A startled cry burst from the lips of the brother and sister, and theireyes met with such a mutually significant look that a little smile creptinto Cleek's eyes for a moment. It so obviously explained the situationbetween them; each had suspected the other, and each had wished toshield the other.
Then Cleek turned his gaze back to the prisoner, who was a picture ofsullen dejection.
"There is one more overwhelming proof of my story," Cleek said, andtaking out his notebook, he scribbled something rapidly. Then detachinga leaf, he continued, "If Mr. Narkom will fetch it and if I am right, Ido not think Mr. Coroner need hesitate any further."
Mr. Narkom gave but one glance at the scrap of paper in his hand, butthose standing near him heard his exclamation of astonishment. Then hewas gone, and attention was once more rivetted on Cleek's slim figure.
"You made a mistake, my friend, in drawing my attention to the goldscarves last week for I knew that you lied in saying that you had givenLady Margaret that scarf. It was her father's gift, not yours, so youreffort to draw a red herring across the path was a failure," continuedthat gentleman as he peered into the face of the prisoner. "You made abigger one to-day in leaving off that seal ring which left its mark onyour brother's throat last week."
A string of vile expletives followed this statement as the bound manstrove feebly to wrench his hand from the firm grasp which held it.
At this, a little cry burst from the lips of Dr. Verrall, and againCleek smiled.
"You jumped to the conclusion too quickly that it was Miss Jennifer'sring, Doctor," he said, softly. "Not even a strong woman could havesubjugated a man like Blake."
Dr. Verrall gave a little groan as he met Cleek's quizzical eyes, butJennifer, who was standing near, stared at him in open-mouthedamazement. Then she said almost under her breath:
"Oh, Edgar, you thought that I--that it was poor old Dad's ring on myhand. Is that why you wanted me to put it away?"
Swiftly Dr. Verrall turned to her and even as he did so, the attentionof the people around was speedily withdrawn, for the door of the roomwas opened, and Mr. Narkom stood in the doorway.
"Was I right?" said Cleek, a trifle anxiously.
"Right as a trivet," was the complacent reply. "And here she is----"
He stepped aside, and then a cry arose, for framed in the doorway, paleand worn, but otherwise unharmed, stood the missing heiress, LadyMargaret Cheyne herself!
A scramble ensued, but it was Sir Edgar who reached her first, anddisrega
rding the surging crowd around them gathered her bodily into hisarms.
"Margaret, my darling!" he said in a choked, broken voice.
Cleek smiled.
"You found her where I said?" he asked, addressing the Superintendentwho stood breathless but triumphant beside him.
The query reduced the roomful of people to a state of breathless silenceas Mr. Narkom nodded vigorously.
"Yes," said he, briskly. "She was in Gunga Dall's house, and bound andgagged, poor child, although she seems to have recovered herself verywell now."
He smiled at her as she stood crimson and shy beside the upright figureof her lover, and she gave him a smile in return.
"Yes," she said in a soft voice, looking up into Sir Edgar's eyes, "I amperfectly recovered, thank you!... No, Edgar, you mustn't," as thatgentleman sprang forward in Gunga Dall's direction and made as if toattack him; "he will meet with the justice he deserves, dear, soonenough."
"Well said," threw in Cleek with an approving smile at thisphilosophical young person, "I agree with Sir Edgar's sentiments, LadyMargaret, so long as they _remain_ sentiments and nothing else. But nowwhat about that story which we are all waiting so breathlessly for? Doyou feel up to relating your adventures, just to clear away thecuriosity which I see written on every face?"
He set a chair for her and she thanked him with a gesture. Seatingherself, she blushed crimson at the sight of the crowd that surroundedher.
"Of course I will tell you my story," she began in a low voice, "butfirst of all I want you to believe that I did not kill that man. I trulydid not!"
"What man, my dear young lady?" asked the startled Coroner before anyone else could speak.
"Why, the man who impersonated my poor aunt!" she responded, tearfully."But Mr. Dall said everybody was looking for me, and he intended to takeme out of the country. I did not want to go--it is all too wicked!" Sheclung trembling to Sir Edgar, who was divided between his longing towreak his vengeance on the prisoner who stood sullen and discomfortedand his efforts to restore Lady Margaret.
"You need not fear any trouble on that score, Lady Margaret," saidCleek, quietly, smiling at her. "It was Gunga Dall himself who murderedthe man, his own brother. And all we want to find out is how your scarfcame to be involved. When did you discover the trick that had beenplayed?"
"I never thought of there being any trick," she said with a littleshiver. "Poor Auntie was always very queer and undemonstrative, evenwhen I was a child, and, too, she always disliked me. That was why shekept me so long at school. So I never thought of its being any one elsetill I came down to meet Edgar--on the terrace. Then the sound of thelaughter, and all men's laughter, caused me to look into the room. WhenI saw what I had believed to be my aunt, with her wig half off, smokinga big cigar and holding up my jewels----" She broke off with a littleshudder and Ailsa Lorne, who stood near, leaned forward and took LadyMargaret's shaking hand into her own.
"What happened afterward, Lady Margaret?" Cleek then asked. "Can youtell us? It is necessary evidence, you know----"
"Yes," she said, bravely, "they gagged me and bound my eyes and laid meon a couch in the ballroom.... I don't know what happened then, but Ifound myself at last in the wine-cellar with the servant Aggie keepingwatch over me. It seemed ages and ages before Gunga Dall came to me, andwhile Aggie was sleeping--she had been drinking all the time she waswith me--he got me through the window, and out into the lane, where hehad a carriage waiting. He said he was going to drive me to LadyBrenton, but when I found he was not, I got frightened and wondered ifyou had got the bit of paper I slipped from the window when I saw you._Did_ you get it?" she turned to Ailsa, who nodded.
"Yes, dear, and gave it to Sir Edgar."
"Oh, I am so glad!" she said in a broken voice. "Well, after that hedrove me to his own house, and promised to fetch Lady Brenton to me!"
"The devil!" burst out Sir Edgar, impetuously, his face crimson withfury, his whole figure shaking, "as if he couldn't have brought youdirect to us if he had wanted to----"
"I never thought of that," she responded. "All I thought of was gettingaway from Cheyne Court. He said then that all the countryside waslooking for me as I was accused of having murdered that awful creaturewhom I had believed to be my aunt. I wanted to confront them, but hewouldn't let me go. At last he said if I would give him my gold scarf,it would be the means of setting me free...."
A little one-sided smile crept up Cleek's face as he listened to thegirlish recital.
"The clever devil!" he ejaculated. "He went straight back to Blake, notknowing perhaps that the jewels were already in their possession andtook the scarf as a proof that he had Lady Margaret in his power...."
Then he turned on his heel and faced the prisoner.
"Come, Blake, own up--the truth. It will serve you best."
The prisoner scowled blackly and stared into Cleek's eyes with hatred inhis own.
"What's the good?" he muttered, angrily. "You seem to know it all justas if you were there. It's true enough. I went to Sam, who had nobusiness to have acted without me, and told him I'd got the girl andwould let on to the police if he didn't give me a share. I didn't knowit wasn't the old girl herself, till the day before when I followed themup to London, then I recognized Sammy. Considering I had been away inParis for over a year planning how to get hold of them jewels, and evenjoined up with that there crowd of Hindoo niggers, in order to haveassistance--they only wanted the 'Purple Emperor,' said I could havewhat I liked if I helped them to get that, without their having to takelife--well, it isn't surprising that I didn't mean to be bested by Samand his pals."
Cleek nodded as if in approval, though it was really the proof of thecorrectness of his own theories that caused the unconscious movement.
"But the law was one too many for both of you, Jimmy my lad," heinterrupted, "and you came to grief at last. But what I want to know ishow did you get into Cheyne Court?"
"Through a secret entrance hidden in the wall, if yer wants ter know!"replied James Blake, sullenly. "Might as well know it first as last.There's a hole in the dried-up moat what leads to the foundations and Ihappened to discover it when I was hiding there. So I nipped in and thenstumbled upon Lady Margaret, lying in the cellar, and saw it was achance to get even with Sammy. But he only laughed at me when I said I'dgot her and told me I'd never find the jewels where he'd hidden 'em.Blast 'im, I never have. But we came to blows then and he clutched atthe scarf I held and nicked a piece out of it, just as he fell, then Iscuttled upstairs and threw it back into the girl's room--and that's allthe blooming story."
"Back into her room?" ejaculated Sir Edgar, furiously, at the end ofthis recital. "So he threw suspicion on my dear girl. Well, I'll wringhis damned neck for him as a little return for his trouble!"
He leapt forward, but Cleek caught at his shoulder, and with a smiledrew him back.
"A very creditable performance, my friend," said he, serenely, "but Idon't think I should carry it out. As Lady Margaret herself suggestedthe law will take its course and mete out full justice. Meanwhile, thereis still more work to be done. This part of the case is clear enough.This man, James Blake is his right name, although we have all known himas Gunga Dall, is the head of the Pentacle Club, and the murdered manSam, his brother, was also a member of the gang. As you see, it has beena deeply laid plot on their part to secure that ill-fated 'The PurpleEmperor,' and as I have long imagined, the Hindoo priests are still onits track. When I went up to London to find out about James Blake, Ilearned by chance of the existence of this brother and then I knew whathad happened. There is no doubt, as I shall prove to you, that Sam hadmade ingenious arrangements to get the jewels safely away before thereturn of his brother, and it was the knowledge of a safe hiding placewhich led him to be defiant, and that was obviously the cause of hisdeath.
"However, there is one thing to console ourselves with, and that is thathe but anticipated the law. There is little doubt that he was themurderer of Miss Cheyne, and also the perpetrator of another cr
ime inthe East of London--the murder of an 'ole clo' woman. He stabbed her todeath for a bundle of second-hand clothing and a wig. That shows thenature of the man, doesn't it? But that is the way he obtained theclothing to dress his part, and the little second-hand clothes dealer'scase passed out of the public eye under the screen of 'found murdered byperson or persons unknown.' But her death and Miss Cheyne's are avenged.We have Mr. James Blake to thank for _that_!"
He paused a moment and looked about him at the expectant faces of theaudience, then bent and whispered something to Mr. Narkom, who noddedvigorously and spoke to the Coroner.
Then Cleek spoke again.
"I don't think there is anything more to be done now so far as thepublic is concerned," he said in a clear voice which penetrated to theends of the crowded room, "and I think they may safely consider the caseat an end. I shall be glad, therefore, if they will leave this room asquickly and as quietly as possible."
They left forthwith, as the prisoner was led away, but once out in thespring sunshine, it came to them suddenly that that very clevergentlemen had left off at the most critical point--and that the hidingplace of the famous Cheyne Court jewels had never been revealed.