CHAPTER XXVII
WHAT HAPPENED IN THE LIBRARY
It was exactly eleven o'clock, and the various clocks in the house werechiming the hour out from every nook and corner of the Castle whenCleek, followed by Dollops and Mr. Narkom, made his way to the library,and found assembled there all the members of that ill-fated family--aswell as those others who had perforce been obliged to stay thereover-night at his orders--and with a polite "good morning" and a stifflittle bow, took his place in the midst of them and glanced around.
They were a wan, white-faced lot. Lady Paula's black eyes were ringedwith violet, Maud Duggan's face was pinched and old-looking in themorning light, as though the night had seen no sleep for _her_ (whichwas true), Johanna McCall's little peaked face was pale as ivory, andher eyes looked heavy-lidded, as though she had cried overmuch in thestill watches (which was true also), while Cynthia Debenham andCatherine Dowd sat with set faces and angry eyes, watching him as thoughdeadly afraid of what he might say or do next. Ross Duggan's countenancewas as lined as an old man's; Captain Macdonald showed by the flare ofnostrils and flash of eye that his temper was still as hot as histongue, and not improved for the keeping; and little Cyril--who slippedin a moment or two late, with Tavish bringing up the rear--had the lookof a boy who was scared half out of his wits.
And scared badly he was, too. Trembling hands showed it; trembling lipsshowed it still more. Cleek's eyes narrowed down as he glanced at theboy's set face, and he found it hard to give him even so much as awelcoming smile. Like mother like son--that boy. As wily as you make'em. And untrustworthy, too. He was not so fond of Master Cyril, nowthat he knew more of him, as he had been at first meeting.
When they were all seated, with P. C. Mackay keeping watch over the doorand another constable on the outside of it, Cleek turned to them and letthe queer little one-sided smile so indicative of the man travel up hisface.
"Well, my friends," said he in his smooth, low-pitched voice, "Ipromised you something when I saw you again, and I'm here to fulfil thatpromise. The riddle of Sir Andrew's death is a riddle no longer. If youwill have patience for a short time I shall explain a few things to you,and then----"
"You know who killed my husband, then? You know?--you know?" bleated outLady Paula, starting to her feet with white face and hands claspedclose against her breast. "You have found out the secret of his murder,Mr. Deland?"
"Yes--and I know who his murderer was, too, Lady Paula," returned Cleeksharply. "Sit down, Mr. Duggan, I beg of you. The door is guarded, asyou can see--both outside and in--and perhaps it might be as well if Iadded caution to care and turned the key in the door--so." Speaking, hecrossed the room in rapid strides, locked the door, and dropped the keyinto his pocket. "Prevention is better than cure, you know. Yes, LadyPaula, I know who murdered Sir Andrew, and I know how it was done. Adastardly deed at best--an abominable crime upon humanity in return fora family wrong. The old question of a vendetta--though of so recent adate as to be a mere matter of seventeen years back. You have beenmarried that long, have you not? You are surprised, I see. Well, Iconfess it, so was I. And when you mix up such other unpleasantingredients as a woman's ill-timed ambition, a blackmailer, and thegreen-eyed god jealousy, you find a very unpleasant mess of pottageindeed."
He spoke in his own way, unravelling the riddle in that leisurelyfashion for which he was famous; but to those over-charged minds andhearts that surrounded him he seemed much like a cat playing with amouse--and enjoying its fruitless efforts at escape.
"But the murderer--who?--who?" gave out Maud Duggan in a suddenly shrillvoice, as a little silence held for a moment in that still room. "Tellus that, Mr. Deland, I implore you----"
"In good time, Miss Duggan. First of all, the ways and means. Look!--seethat spinning wheel. There stands your guilty party in that innocentguise. The hand that guided that wheel killed Sir Andrew as surely as Iam standing here. And how? An air-pistol. And who owns an air-pistol inthis place but Mr. Ross Duggan?"
"It's a lie--a damned lie! And I'll have you to law for it, too!" RossDuggan started to his feet, face crimson, hands knotted, eyes flashingat this plain implication of himself. "Damn you, whoever you are!--it'sa lie! I did not kill my father! I swear it upon the sacred book itself!I did not kill him!"
Cleek held up a detaining hand.
"And who, may I ask, said you did, my fiery young friend?" he returnedsuavely. "If you will give me a little time to tell my story in my ownway, I shall be extremely obliged. You stand self-confessed as the ownerof an air-pistol. That we have proof of. The rest will follow in duecourse. But here is the instrument of death--this simple little spinningwheel, which, wired by electricity as it is, and with the pistol hiddeninside that wheel with diabolical ingenuity, caused the death of yourfather. And who among you, may I ask, has such a perfect knowledge ofelectricity as to equip the thing like that?"
Again there was silence; meanwhile each looked at the other and the samename framed itself unconsciously upon every lip ... Ross Duggan. It wasnot spoken aloud, but Cleek could read it as he looked about him. ThenLady Paula spoke.
"Then--it was Ross? It was that unfilial and cruel son of an unknowingand innocent old man, just as I knew it to be?" she shrilled excitedly,jumping to her feet and turning to Ross and seizing him by the shoulderas though she would tear him limb from limb. "Oh, _sacremento_!I knew it! I knew it! Wicked, cruel creature that you are!Ungrateful--beast----"
Cleek caught her sharply by the arm and spun her around as though shehad been made of paper. His face was grim.
"One moment," he cried in a sharp staccato. "This lady is going to givetrouble. Well, then, the moment can be delayed no longer.Constable--bring in your prisoner."
He gave a shrill whistle, strode across the room, fitted the key intothe lock, and in an instant there was pandemonium.
For of a sudden there was a stifled scream from somewhere in the room--ahurried breath and a woman's voice shrilled out, "Oh, I cannot bear itany longer-- I cannot! I cannot!" Then the door flashed open to admit oftwo policemen, who had slung between them the stooping figure of a man,closely handcuffed, and with a dark scrub of beard showing upon hisunshaven chin. Came another scream; a boy's shrill voice liftedexcitedly, "Uncle Antoni!" followed by a scuffling of a man's footsteps.Cleek took a quick step forward in the midst of all the confusion,caught at someone's sleeve and held it in a grip like a vice, rapped outin a sharp voice, "Catch him, Dollops! Catch the beggar before he slipsout through the open door and gives us the 'go-by'--the beastlyblighter!" Then, all in a moment, he was fighting and twisting anddoubling to regain his hold upon the man who was trying to escape; therewas a muttered curse, and a flying foot came out and caught the leg of adelicate table, sending it toppling over with a crash in the midst ofthem; the grating of a key in a lock, and--the end had come!
Brushing a piece of dust from his sleeve as P. C. Mackay snapped thebracelets upon still another prisoner, Cleek turned and surveyed theroom with flushed cheek and flashing eye.
"Friends," he said blandly, "your man--your murderer. Caught asred-handed as one could wish--and as innocently as a babe, too!"
And pointed toward the manacled, fighting figure of James Tavish!