CHAPTER VII
IN THE TIGER'S CLUTCHES
Despite the mysterious fact that the Honourable Miss Cheyne's photo hadbeen found in the dirty little shop in Crown Court, Drury Lane, Cleekcould find no visible connection between it and the fact of the murder.Its presence was also speedily accounted for, owing to the informationgarrulously volunteered by Mrs. Malone. It appeared that "Madame" hadbeen in the service of the Honourable Miss Cheyne. "Hupper 'ousemaid,she were," said that lady, "and when she left to get married, themistress gave her half-a-crown and her photo to remind her wot a foolshe was to do it. 'Er very own words, sir, not but what she wasn't 'appyenough---- Still, it's a man wot's killed 'er, so the old girl wasn'tfar out."
"How do you know that?" asked Cleek, to whom she was talking at thetime.
Mrs. Malone bit her lip.
"Stands to reason it was so, sir. I'll not be speaking the black wordagainst anybody, but sure an' I belave I know the man what did it----"
"What's that? What do you mean?"
"Well, sir," said the woman, "I wasn't 'ere myself all day, but it mighthave been the man who used to come in 'ere and pump 'er all about 'erold 'ome and 'er first place--which was 'er last, too. It were CheyneCourt itself down on the river somewhere, I don't exactly know where,but poor 'Madame' was bred and born there, and loved the place like'ome. This man was always a coming in, after he spotted that drattedphotograph there. Talk, talk, talk 'e would. What was the place like andhow far away was it? And ever so many more such-like questions. ButMadame always shut up and once when 'e offered to buy the pictureitself, she nearly broke his neck with a broom handle."
Cleek sat very still, his eyes half closed. To all appearances he washalf asleep. But his thoughts were racing at topmost speed. So he wasright. There was some connection between this murder and the CheyneCourt mystery; but what? What was it that this stranger wanted to learn,and why had he been so persistent in his inquiries? He could find noanswer to his mental queries, and eventually he was obliged to ownhimself beaten. But that in nowise prevented his taking the impressionof the finger-prints on the dagger with which the grim deed had beenperpetrated. The case was left in the hands of the jury with the resultthat the verdict was one he had prophesied, "wilful murder againstsomeone or persons unknown." Notwithstanding its practical passing intooblivion, Cleek felt that the case was connected in some way with theCheyne Court mystery, and as he left the grimy regions of Drury Lanebehind him his thoughts went back to Lady Margaret.
Meanwhile, the object of his solicitude was apparently far from needingit. "Lady Margaret Cheyne, the Honourable Miss Cheyne and maid," thelatter, the furtive-faced "Aggie," had registered their arrival in aquiet little hotel in Craven Street, W. Once in London Miss Cheyne hadshown an amazing knowledge of its thoroughfares and shopping centres,despatching the girl, in the company of Aggie, on delightful expeditionsthat sent the child, for she was little more, almost delirious withdelight. After being pent up in the austere walls of that convent abroadit was small wonder that to have all the bewildering splendour offeminine fashions at her command turned her head a little.
Only one little thing gave her cause for dissatisfaction, and that wasthe presence of the ever-watchful Aggie.
"If only you would come, too, Auntie," she cried, on the third morningof their stay, previous to setting forth on another whirl ofpurchasing. "Aggie hasn't an atom of taste, you know. She wouldcheerfully let me buy a green hat to go with a mauve skirt, and I don'tthink even an orange blouse would upset her equanimity."
"Well, why should it?" demanded Miss Cheyne. "I like a bit of colourmyself."
This coming from her aunt, whose clothes were always of the darkest anddowdiest combinations of gray or black that could be imagined, left LadyMargaret almost breathless.
"Don't be too long to-day," said Miss Cheyne, apparently totallyunconscious of the effect her words had produced. "Don't forget that wehave an appointment with the solicitors this afternoon, and I shall wantall my energies to see you are not done out of those jewels."
Lady Margaret laughed gaily.
"No, I don't suppose they will like giving them up after all theseyears."
With a little nod she passed out and was soon on her way westward. InTrafalgar Square she stopped to stare skyward at the Nelson monument. Soabsorbed was she that she did not see the start of glad surprise which astalwart young man gave as he came rushing to her side.
It was not, indeed, until the sound of her own name spoken in glad,joyous tones fell on her ears that she came back once more to hersurroundings.
"Edgar," she said breathlessly, clapping her hands like a little child."Isn't this just wonderful; meeting you like this? Why, where did youspring from, and why haven't you been near me?"
Without waiting for his reply she led him round till they found a seaton the stone steps.
"I jolly well haven't had a chance of seeing you, my darling," said theyoung man as he devoured the radiant young face with his eyes. "I'vefairly haunted the grounds of Cheyne Court but didn't dare to face yourold dragon after the drubbing she gave me last week. I suppose she's allright?" he asked, a little irrelevantly.
Lady Margaret looked at him in surprise.
"Why, of course she is all right. She has been good to me, though sheseems queerer than ever. But, Edgar, what do you think, she says myjewels will be a good wedding present for us! What do you say to that?"
"What!" cried the young man. "Do you mean you tackled her--you bravedarling. I wonder she didn't snap your pretty head off."
"I did expect an outcry, when I said I was going to marry you," shesaid, shaking her fair head, "but she said I might, and should have theCheyne Court jewels, too."
"Considering they're your own property, my darling, that's just like hercheek," retorted Sir Edgar. "But I'm hanged if I can understand it, forwhen I saw her last, as I told you, she abused me like a pickpocket."
Lady Margaret laughed aloud in childish glee.
"Well, we'll just take the goods the gods send," said she. "She can keepthe old jewels if she likes, if only she gives her consent to ourmarriage."
Her voice dropped tenderly upon the words, and the wild-rose colourbloomed for a moment in her cheeks until Sir Edgar, impetuous young manthat he was, gave a hasty look round at the practically empty square andsnatched the kiss he had been longing for ever since he had caught sightof her.
"And now," he said, when Lady Margaret, blushing deeper than ever, hadreproved him for his audacity, "what are you going to do next?"
"Go back to the hotel, Maxell's, in Craven Street, and get ready forthose horrid old lawyers," she responded, laughing, as she surveyedAggie's broad figure some distance away. "Auntie won't rest till shegets those precious jewels home."
"Jove, Meg darling, but you don't mean to tell me you're going to be madenough to take the Cheyne jewels back to that old rookery of a place?"exclaimed Sir Edgar.
"It does seem a bit of a risk," she admitted, "but Auntie is keen on itand I don't care so long as she lets me see you. I really must go now,Edgar. I shall have to go right back instead of shopping."
"I'm coming with you," Sir Edgar said, jumping to his feet. "I won't letyou out of my sight if I can help it."
"But you must. I don't want Auntie to be upset again; now be a dear,sensible Edgar! See, here is Aggie, she's a new servant of Auntie's andI can see she is getting cross. I will get back, and when we return homethis evening you must meet me on the terrace. I will talk Auntie intoplaying the fairy godmother."
There was no gainsaying the wisdom of this line of reasoning, andunwillingly enough the ardent young lover watched the figure of the girlhe loved run lightly across the great square and vanish, with a partingwave, in the whirl of the Strand.
Meanwhile, Lady Margaret, back at the hotel, lost no time in acquaintingher aunt of this chance encounter with her lover, but strangely enough,save for a gruff remark about the waste of time, Miss Cheyne wasapparently content to waive her dislike of the Brenton fa
mily. The girlwas too elated at this unexpected abeyance to grumble at her aunt'snon-attention, or the haste with which lunch was partaken of in order tokeep the dreaded legal appointment.
Once in the lawyer's grimy office, Miss Cheyne was curiously subdued,and her mien was that of one decidedly ill at ease.
It was Mr. Shallcott, the senior partner, a short-sighted old-fashionedgentleman who shook hands with the ladies and congratulated LadyMargaret on her "accession to her throne," as he jokingly put it.
His face, however, when she expressed her intentions of removing all theprecious heirlooms down to Cheyne Court, was a study in dire dismay.
"But it's utter madness, my child!" he said gently. "Why, every jewelthief in Europe will be after them, don't you agree with me, MissCheyne?" he peered over at the old lady as she sat immersed in shadow.
"To a certain extent I do," was the amazing response, and coming fromone who had been so intensely insistent on their removal it caused LadyMargaret's blue eyes to widen to their fullest extent.
As in a dream she heard her aunt continue blandly:
"But I think the child's whim may be safely granted, Mr. Shallcott, forI have had special safes made to hold them and they can be returnedinto your safe custody directly Lady Margaret is presented."
"Well, of course, my dear lady, it is no business of mine," respondedthe little lawyer tersely. "Your dear brother left them entirely at LadyMargaret's disposal, and if she has made up her mind to have them, well,I suppose a wilful young woman must have her way, eh?" he smiled alittle at Lady Margaret's preoccupied face. "Perhaps I can persuade herto change her mind."
"No, no, certainly not," snapped Miss Cheyne. "Now, Margaret, speak up,and don't act like a child. You do want them, do you not?"
She glared across at the girl, who, fearing the wrath that woulddoubtless be vented upon her should she speak out, was impelled toanswer in the affirmative and Mr. Shallcott became reluctantly content.
Therefore, orders were given to the clerk to get the cases out of thesafe wherein they had been placed when fetched from the Safe DepositVault.
"There is no need for that ill-fated pendant, I hope?" he inquiredanxiously.
"The Purple Emperor?" said Miss Cheyne. "Oh, yes, let her have it aswell as the others; not a soul but ourselves will know of their removalfrom here, and I promise you they will come to no harm. You see," shewhispered, "I am taking her to a big county ball next week, and, well,youth is youth, after all. She can only be young once."
Mr. Shallcott nodded in understanding, and with a little sigh of thefutility of argument with a woman, allowed the fatal stone to beincluded.
Half an hour later an unpretentious, weather-stained portmanteau wasbundled into the four-wheeler in which Miss Cheyne insisted on beingdriven to Waterloo Station. If the cabman had but known what he washandling, a bag, cheap by reason of its contents at half a millionpounds sterling, he might have regarded it with more interest than hedid.
It was nearly five when they reached Hampton. Lady Margaret's head achedunceasingly and she felt tired and worn with the strain of things. ButMiss Cheyne was curiously elated. She talked and chuckled over her ownjokes till the girl felt glad that it had given her so much pleasure togaze on the family jewels. They might very well have been left to herduring her own lifetime, even if they had to pass on to her niece whenthe aunt had gone beyond earthly vanities.
As they crawled down the lane in the cab, toward Cheyne Court, theypassed Sir Edgar Brenton who had travelled down by the same train. Hiseyes met Lady Margaret's and she could have cried aloud at the reliefof her lover's nearness.
John was awaiting their arrival and again she felt that twinge of doubtas she saw the ill-concealed maliciousness upon his face, and caught hisquestion: "All right?" as he lifted the bag into the hall.
"Quite," was Miss Cheyne's remark. "We are tired, and Lady Margaretwould like a cup of tea in her room, I am sure."
The girl started to deny this, but John had already vanished. Depressedand filled with sore foreboding, Lady Margaret ascended the staircase.
Once in her own room, she scolded herself for her doubts. "I am like anervous cat!" she said to herself. "I don't care what Auntie says now,she may have the old jewels but I am going to meet Edgar."
Like a guilty schoolgirl, indeed she was little more than a child, shesped down the stairs, stopping, however, to look into the small ballroomwhence issued sounds of uproarious laughter. And the sight which met hereyes filled her with unspeakable horror. One illuminating glance wasenough. She turned and fled, speeding to the dining-room window, whereon the terrace outside she knew her lover awaited her.
Her face was white and panic-stricken. Who were these dreadful peoplewho laughed, joked, and drank with her aunt as though they were equal instation?
The horror of what she had seen seized her again. Forgetting all else inher mad desire to break away from this house forever, she jumped outupon the terrace, her shrill voice raised in despair:
"Edgar, Edgar, save me! save me!" she cried wildly and turned to fly.But her entry into the ballroom had been noticed by the occupants. Theyhad stopped in their merriment and stared in dumb amazement at herunexpected appearance.
Like a flash they were upon her heels out on the terrace, and Sir Edgarhimself, startled by the sudden turn of events, was only just in time tosee the figure of the woman he loved struggling in the arms of a servantbefore she was dragged back and lost to his view. His furious assault onthe glass took him into the room but there he was only to find a closedand locked door.