it was a very puzzled and uneasy detective who was driven back to the abbey that afternoon, for he was finding it impossible to determine the significance of what had just happened.
it seemed incredible, but he had to believe the evidence of his own ears. the old fisherman had called the airman a smuggler and had almost certainly, too, used the word “dope.”
but it was not that that was so particularly disturbing, although the incident there was extraordinary in itself. it was that the fisherman had chosen him, larose, to whom to impart the information, and had added the word “watch!”
it was exactly as if the fisherman were aware who he, larose, was and was warning him.
and yet he was quite certain he had never set eyes upon henrik before, for when sir arnold had been bandaging the dreadful wound upon the man’s hand, he had taken good stock of him, and had been particularly impressed by the unusual-looking appearance of the fisherman.
then if it were really true that daller was in the illicit drug traffic, how had that become known to this lonely old man, who was supposed to be half-witted, and who was living a life almost entirely out of touch with human kind?
but larose was thrilled, too, with his thoughts, for if daller were indeed a member of a dope gang, then he, larose, had under his hand one undoubted criminal among the aristocratic party now up at the abbey, and from one known criminal he would be a poor sort of detective, he told himself, if he did not succeed in tracking down the others.
he smiled with some satisfaction. he had not been at the abbey twenty-four hours and he had already two clues to follow! the dashing airman and the two newcomers to the home upon the marsh.
arriving back at the abbey, and as they were passing through the lounge, he moved up close to lady ardane and under cover of expressing his enjoyment of the little excursion they had just had, whispered that he wanted to see her as soon us possible. she frowned slightly as if not too pleased at the request, but whispered back, “in my boudoir, just before six.”
at five minutes before six then he was alone with her in her room and explaining to her what he wanted. he must be able to go outside the abbey at night, he said, and he was afraid, although he did not like the idea, that the night watchman upon the ground floor must be taken partly into the confidence.
for some reason, lady ardane seemed rather disturbed at his request, and asked immediately why he wanted to be able to go outside.
“oh! i want to be quite free at any time in all my movements,” he replied non-committally, “and be able to go just where i like.” he smiled. “you see, your ladyship, we detectives do a lot of our work in the dark.”
she did not, however, smile in return, and after hesitating a few moments, opened a drawer in her desk and brought out a key. “you can have this, then,” she said rather reluctantly, “but take great care of it, because it is the only one left. it opens the small door at the far end of the abbey, in the corridor beyond the library. there are only two keys to this door and sir parry has the other one.”
“oh!” exclaimed larose. “sir parry has one, has he? then he can come in and out here whenever he wants to?”
“certainly,” replied lady ardane. “he attends to all my business affairs for me, and can go into the office at all times without disturbing anybody. he uses the library too, very often.”
“well, just one thing,” said larose preparing to leave the room, “how long have you known mr. daller and where did you first meet him?”
lady ardane’s manner was icily cold. “about three years,” she replied, “and i met him at hurlington. i have already told you he is a great friend of mine.” she inclined her head. “so you need not look for the culprit there, for mr. daller would do anything for me.”
“no doubt,” thought larose with an unreasoning pang of jealousy as he left the room, “even to the extent of making you mrs. bernard daller, if he could.”
with an hour and more to spare before he need get ready for dinner, the detective made an inspection of the little door for which he had just been given the key. it was, as lady ardane had said, at the very end of the building, and in that part that had once led out from the old cloisters. the walls were very thick and old, and the door was narrow, and only just wide enough to admit one person at a time. he inserted the key in the lock with the idea of dropping in a little oil if necessary so that the door might open quite noiselessly when he came to use it, but he at once found no lubricant would be required, for not only the lock but the hinges of the door also had been oiled recently. he could smell the oil distinctly.
he bent down, and for a long minute examined the hinges, then returning slowly along the corridor and desiring to be alone with his own thoughts for a little while, he opened the door of the library, feeling sure that at that time of the evening the large room would be empty.
but he at once found he was mistaken, for sir parry bardell was seated at one of the tables and with a large tome before him, was making notes upon a sheet of paper.
the knight looked up with a frown at the opening of the door, as if annoyed at being disturbed, but then perceiving who it was, the frown changed instantly into an engaging smile, and he beckoned the detective into the room.
“come in, come in, mr. maxwell,” he called out to the hesitating detective. “you won’t disturb me. indeed i shall be glad of your company, for i always find this huge room very lonely, by myself.”
he rose to his feet and, pulling out the chair next to him, invited the detective to sit down.
larose was nothing loath, indeed nothing pleased him better, for it was the first time he had had an opportunity of studying sir parry at close quarters.
larose took the chair that sir parry offered him and the latter pointed to the book that he had been reading. “look at those quaint old characters, mr. maxwell,” he said. “this book is five hundred years old and i’m digging out some information from it about this very abbey. i am writing a history of the abbey, you know, and i’ve been on it now for over three years. lady ardane asked me to do it”— he made a wry face —“but i really wish i hadn’t taken it on now, for it absorbs such a lot of my time. i seem to be always in here, and it keeps me from my great hobby, the study of the stars.” he laid his hand lightly upon the detective’s arm. “ah! but you must come and see my place one day and i’ll show you my big telescope. it’s wonderful and i’m very proud of it.”
he chatted on in the most friendly manner possible, passing from one subject to another with an almost boyish enthusiasm, and as the conversation progressed, he was most interesting to watch. when he was animated, there was all openness and simplicity in his expression, but with his features falling into repose, the detective noted they could set in very stern and uncompromising lines, with nothing of weakness or indecision about them. sometimes, too, larose thought then that he looked very sad.
presently, when happening to refer to lady ardane and the great responsibility that had fallen on her in her widowhood, he lowered his voice suddenly and, regarding the detective with great intentness, asked with an ominous shake of the head. “but you have heard something of this trouble she is in?”
“ah! now i may learn something,” thought larose gleefully. “someone’s going to talk about it at last.”
“yes,” he nodded at once, “mr. lestrange told me an attempt had been made to kidnap the little baronet.”
“but not only that,” said sir parry, gritting his teeth savagely together, “for someone, the night before last, tried to waylay her when she was alone in her car.”
“oh! do tell me about it,” exclaimed larose, looking as horrified as be could. “i have heard nothing about that.”
and then sir parry, with some emotion, related what had happened upon the norwich road when lady ardane had been fired upon, and from the narrative he gave, the detective realised how cleverly the mistress of carmel abbey had managed to suppress all mention that she had had a companion with her at the time.
when sir parry had finished, he heaved a big sigh. “but perhaps i ought not to have told you anything about it,” he said, looking very troubled, “and yet it is such a relief to me to discuss it with anyone.” his voice dropped almost to a whisper. “among ourselves here we talk about it as little as possible, and i believe we all want to think that lady ardane dreamt it.” his eyes blazed and he slapped his hand upon the table. “but i ask you, mr. maxwell, as a man of the world, what do you think of it and whom can you imagine the wretches can be?”
but larose could, apparently, make nothing of it, for in his country, australia, such happenings as this had never occurred, and all he could suggest were the ideas he had picked up from reading about kidnapping gangs in america.
they talked on for a long while until indeed larose had to leave to get ready for dinner. sir parry shook him warmly by the hand as they bade each other good night and the last glimpse the detective had of the very troubled, retired shipowner, was of him sinking back despondently into a big armchair with no thought any more, at any rate for the time, of the history of the abbey he was writing.
“a very kind-hearted man,” was larose’s comment as he mounted the stairs to his room, “but the hard, relentless work of his business life has taken its toll, both physically and mentally, and he looks very much older to me than fifty-seven.” he smiled whimsically to himself. “yes, whatever people may say, if you want to really enjoy riches, you must inherit them and not acquire them yourself. the process of acquisition seems much too exhausting, and takes too much out of you.”
just before midnight, and having plasticened a number of bedroom doors, as he had done the previous night, larose let himself out the little cloister door, and skirting round the back of the abbey, made his way to among the trees that everywhere lay close up to the low fence that circled all round the abbey grounds.
he was reckoning that by keeping among the trees he could watch, unseen, every side of the abbey that he wanted to, but, all the same, he knew it was to the sea aspect that he must give most attention. he was of opinion that there was just a chance someone might signal from one of the windows of the abbey, and in return receive an answer from some distant house.
he was not too hopeful about it, but at any rate, he told himself, it was the first thing to be considered, and must not be neglected at any cost. later, about 2 o’clock, he intended to make his way over the marshes and have a talk with old henrik. waking him up in the middle of the night would mean nothing to the old fisherman, for he was, of course, accustomed to rise at all hours to attend to his nets.
the moon was shining, but there were clouds all about, and it looked as if more rain would fall during the night.
the detective gained the shelter the trees and scanned over the many windows of the abbey, but everyone was apparently in bed and no lights were showing anywhere.
keeping always to the shelter of the trees, he promenaded twice, in a wide circle, all round the abbey. the moon was fitful and continually disappearing behind the clouds, and he thought with a pang of uneasiness that it was an ideal night for anyone, waiting upon his opportunity, to leave the place unseen.
nothing happened for more than an hour, although once for a few moments he had half thought he saw a figure among the trees about two hundred yards distant from him, but warily approaching the suspected spot, he had found no one there, and had returned to what he considered his best point of observation, right opposite to the main entrance to the abbey, facing towards the sea.
all at once, when the moon was showing faintly after a short period of disappearance behind a cloud, he thought he saw something moving along by the fence, a good distance away from where he was standing.
he put up his glasses with the full expectation that he was going to disappointed as before and then — his heart began to beat quickly — for he distinctly saw a shadow move up to the fence and then stand motionless as if it were peering through the rails.
the figure was slight and small and looked that of a boy.
instantly, then, he began to move towards it with the utmost speed that he could, but his progress was slow, for he was hampered by the many bushes he had to push through. he had, too to proceed in a crouching attitude all the way, and he took so long in covering the distance that he was fearful at any moment the boy would run off and he would not have seen which way he had gone.
presently, however, when he judged he could not be far from where he had first seen the boy, he rose to his feet behind the trunk of a tree, and to his great relief caught sight of him, not fifty yards away.
the lad was now a few feet away from the fence and, muffled well in scarf and long macintosh with a high collar, was standing quite motionless except that every now and then he turned his head to one side as if he were listening, and then glanced up at the sky.
“the little devil!” muttered the detective. “he’s only waiting for the moon to cloud over again and then he’s going to bolt away.”
but all at once, to the great joy of the detective, the boy began to walk slowly to where he was hiding.
a minute passed, and pausing every few steps to turn his head round and round in every direction, the boy came on.
then the detective pounced, and in a lightning movement grabbed at him and lifted him into his arms. a half-stifled scream came from the muffled figure and it struggled furiously, then getting one arm free, it struck at the detective’s face and the latter felt a stinging scratch upon his check.
“you little devil!” he exclaimed angrily. “stop that and don’t make a sound or i’ll choke the life out of you. now, keep still,” and almost as quickly as they had begun, the struggles ceased.
then larose gasped in amazement. it was a woman he was holding and from the scent of her — it was lady ardane.
he smiled grimly as she lay limp and helpless in his arms, but with his recognition now perfectly sure, he yet still continued to hold her. she was soft and sweet-smelling, and it was at all events, he told himself, some recompense for the trouble she had given him.
he let her on to her feet at last, but then for a few moments continued to support her, as, apparently quite exhausted by her struggles, she leaned heavily against him.
“so it’s you, is it?” he said grimly. “now what are you up to, out here at this time of night?”
“you were rough,” she said shakily, chafing over her arms, and with her words coming in jerks. “you are a brute.”
“if it comes to that,” replied larose calmly, “who would not be when he is trying to hold a scratching woman?” he passed his hand over one side of his face. “your nails are sharp, my lady, and you’ve scratched me right enough. it stings horribly.”
“i didn’t know who you were,” she panted, “and i thought you were one of those men.”
“well, never mind about that,” he said. “i want to know what you are up to here, at this time of night.”
“mind your own business,” she replied sharply. “i refuse to tell you. you were not engaged to spy upon me, anyhow.”
“oh! i wasn’t, was i?” said larose. “then let me tell you straight, i’m here to spy upon everyone.”
“i wish you had never come,” she went on passionately. “i’ve grown to hate the very sight of you.”
“quite a lot of people have felt like that,” he remarked calmly, “and those of them who are not dead are mostly in prison.” he repeated his question again. “now what are you up to out here?”
she began to cry, but in a quiet and very restrained manner, and at once all his annoyance left him and he felt very sorry for her. “of course,” he said lamely, “if you were only going to meet a sweetheart, i know it is no business of mine, and i don’t want to interfere. i quite ——”
“you fool!” she burst out, with the tears instantly drying up; “a woman in my position meeting a sweetheart here!”
“well,” remarked larose judicially, “i could understand it, and indeed might almost consider him a lucky man. after all, you are only like other women and i suppose ——”
but he stopped suddenly, and gripping her by the arm, pulled her quickly down behind a tree. “hush! hush!” he exclaimed, “there’s a man over by those bushes. crouch as low as you can and don’t move. he’s looking this way.”
all her anger forgotten in her terror, she obeyed him instantly, and crouching down close beside him, he could feel the quick beating of her heart as her body touched his. she felt for his hand for protection and then, realising what she had done, instantly snatched it away again.
holding their breaths together, they stared out between the trees.
quite close to them and less than a hundred yards away they could see the head and shoulders of a man silhouetted against the sky. the man was partly hidden by a bush, and that he had not caught sight of them was evident, for with a pair of glasses to his eyes, he was sweeping everywhere around. then after a few moments they saw that his glasses were fixed upon the abbey.
“now, you remain here,” whispered larose, straightening himself up, “and i’ll try and stalk him. the cover’s bad but i may be able to get behind him and make a grab.”
but she seized him tightly by the arm. “no, you’re not to leave me,” she panted, “and i won’t be left here alone. there may be others with him and i’m afraid.”
“but ——” began larose.
“no, you shall not go,” she went on. “i won’t have it.” and the detective, seeing it was useless to argue, sank back into his crouching position, with the reflection as she still continued to hold on to his arm, that the work of a detective was not without its privileges.
for quite five minutes the man with the binoculars remained motionless and then with a long sweep round again in every direction, he began to walk warily but quickly towards the abbey.
“but where’s he going?” asked lady ardane tremulously. “he can’t get in, for every door is locked and every window has an alarm now.”
“wait,” said the detective, “we shall soon see.”
and very quickly they saw, for the man, with no hesitation at all, made straight for the little cloister door, and pausing for just two seconds to look intently behind him, thrust in a key, and, the door opening, he disappeared into the abbey. he closed the door after him.
“good gracious!” wailed lady ardane, “but what will happen now!”
the detective put down the glasses through which he had followed every footstep of the man. “nothing, tonight,” he said a little chokingly. “he’ll just go upstairs and put himself to bed. that’s all.” a grim note came into his tones. “i know who he is. i saw his face that last moment when he turned round.”
“you recognised him!” exclaimed lady ardane incredulously. “then who is he!”
“one of your guests,” replied larose sternly, “but i’m not going to tell you which one. if i did, your manner when you meet him tomorrow would let him know instantly that something was wrong.”
“but i ought to know,” she said warmly. “one of my guests! but it is incredible.”
“but it’s what we’ve always expected,” said larose gruffly, “and it’s no surprise to me. what i am wondering”— and his eyes glinted suspiciously in the darkness —“is how he got hold of a key to that door if, as you say, there are only two in existence. the lock’s one of the best and a new key for it was not made in a hurry.”
“but there are only two,” insisted lady ardane. “i am sure of it. sir parry has one and you have the other.” a catch came into her voice. “i’ll ask sir parry tomorrow if he’s lost his.”
“no, no, you won’t, please,” said larose sternly. “you’ll just let me handle this, and you’ll not breathe a word about to-night to anyone.” he held her eyes with his in the moon light. “now you promise, don’t you?”
“but i ought to know who that man was,” she said warmly, “for after all this matter most concerns me.”
“but i am dealing with it,” was the sharp reply, “and i know more about criminals than you do. so you’ll have to leave it with me, please, and you promise, don’t you?”
she hesitated. “all right,” she said wearily, “have it your own way. you keep your secret and i’ll keep mine”— her voice quivered —“but i shall get no sleep to-night.”
he ignored her plaintive tone and asked in a most business-like way, “now how did you get out of the abbey!”
“by the hall door,” she replied, “and young hollins will open it again for me when i tap.”
“you can trust him as a watchman!” asked larose.
“oh! yes. he’s quite young, and he’s an assistant scoutmaster at hunstanton. he’s just twenty-one.”
“good,” said the detective, “and we’ll wait until that cloud covers the moon and then you can run home. it looks as if the rain’s coming on again.”
they stood in silence under the trees, and such is the mystery of life that, with all the excitement of the manhunt surging through him, the thoughts of the detective were now more upon the woman beside him than upon the man whom he had seen enter through the cloister door. this red-haired woman had scratched his face and called him a brute and a fool, and yet in the darkness there, there were tender lines about his mouth and he was smiling to himself that he had held her in his arms.
suddenly the moon went under and it became pitch dark and began to rain. “now you can go,” said the detective, “and you needn’t unduly hurry, for it look’s as if we shall get no more moon to-night.”
“but you’re coming with me,” she said quickly.
“of course,” he replied, although until that moment he had had no thought of accompanying her.
she held to his arm, as a matter of course, and without a word they crossed the three hundred yards or so to the abbey door. then she drew herself quickly away.
“good-night,” he said in very matter-of-fact tones, “and don’t you forget your promise.”
“no, i’ll not,” she replied. she stretched out and touched his arm again in the darkness. “i’m sorry i scratched you, mr. larose,” she went on, “but i was just terrified when you caught hold of me.”
“quite all right,” he laughed. “i’ve had worse things happen to me than scratches. good-night.”
larose made sure she had entered the abbey in safety, and then, as the rain had now begun to fall heavily, he flattened himself close against the wall to obtain what shelter he could.
“gee!” he exclaimed, now turning his thoughts resolutely to the matter that had brought him out that night, “but that was the american right enough. i saw his face distinctly. rankin, the friend of the senator! now what the devil does that mean? the trusted friend of her step-father prowling about at night! and how did he get a key to that door, too, when sir parry bardell has the only other one!”
his thoughts ran on. “and this red-haired party that i have just been holding in my arms. what was she out for to-night, and what was she doing by the fence? it must have taken something very urgent to make her come out in the middle of the night, for with all her red head she has a gentle streak in her and can get frightened like any other woman.” he shook his head. “yes, i’m up against some things that are very puzzling and they’ll want a lot of straightening out.”
he remained where he was for quite a quarter of an hour and then, the rain falling faster and faster, gave up all thoughts of any further excursions that night. he let himself in very cautiously by the cloister door, pausing for a long time to examine the hinges again by the shrouded light of the electric torch. then he tiptoed up to the first floor and made a round of inspection of all doors against which he had placed his plasticene. one only had been opened, and as he expected it was that of theodore rankin.
“yes, it was he, right enough,” he murmured, “and i’ll keep a good eye on my gentleman now.”
back in his own room, he switched on the light and ruefully regarded a long scratch upon his cheek. it extended right down from the corner of his eye on to his chin.
“and there’ll be no hiding it tomorrow,” he said with a shake of his head. “everybody will see that i’ve been in the wars and wonder what i’ve been up to.”
he took some tincture of iodine out of his suitcase and generously swabbed it into the scratch.
“never a rose without its thorns,” he sighed. “she has a pretty little hand, with beautiful white fingers, and i suppose i ought to feel honored to have had it upon my face. yet, if i don’t well disinfect the mark it left, i may get as nasty a septic wound as if some dustman had been at work there.” he made a wry face as the iodine smarted. “funny world this, and we men are strange creatures! now there was i, simply thrilled with that red head upon my shoulder and imagining it quite a little bit of heaven while it lasted, and yet”— he sighed again —“if i had it there half a dozen times, the thrills would be nearly all gone and it would need a black or a brown head to bring them back.” he sighed for the third time. “one so soon gets accustomed to the most delightful experiences, for we are so made that novelty and change are the very spice of life.”
in the morning, leaving his room to go down to breakfast, he almost ran into theodore rankin in the corridor. they bade each other good morning and the american eyed him very solemnly.
“dear me!” thought larose as they descended the stairs together, “but he seems every bit as interested in me as i am in him, for that look he gave me was anything but a cursory one.”
in anticipation of the forthcoming shoot, nearly everyone had come down early, and they chatted animatedly together. lady ardane showed no traces of her adventure, looking as fresh as a rose and as if she had slept all night.
suddenly, during a lull in the conversation. patricia howard exclaimed interestedly, “oh! mr. maxwell, what a nasty scratch upon your cheek! have you been playing with the cat?” and everyone at once turned to regard the detective.
larose muttered a bad word under his breath, but replied with a ready smile, “yes, i have, and you see she didn’t like me over much.”
“well, it’ll be a lesson to you,” smiled back the girl, “to leave strange cats alone.”
“but cats are like the ladies, i’ve always found,” remarked admiral charters with an assumption of great knowledge of the other sex. “they scratch you one moment, and the next they are purring up to you as close as they can get,” and lady ardane looked down and bit hard upon her lip in a vain endeavor to prevent her face from becoming very red.
the meal was certainly not without its interest to the detective, for he was exerting his psychological powers to the utmost in a study of everyone at the table, and he eventually came to the conclusion that there was a most unusual feeling in the attitudes of three of the people there towards him.
he was not including lady ardane, for as he had rather expected, she was very subdued in her manner and never once, as far as he noticed, gave a single glance in his direction.
but it was very different with senator harvey, rankin and clive huntington, for he caught all three of them looking covertly at him many times. the senator, frowning as if he were very puzzled; rankin, quite amiable, and as if he were a friendly adversary taking stock of a rival with whom he might have to come to grips at any time; and huntington as if he were very amused about something.
larose was sure he was not imagining it all, for in his life of the tracking down of crime he prided himself upon having developed most sensitive powers of determining when he was an object of special interest to anyone.
he began to feel rather uneasy, for he was so certain that since he had arrived at the abbey he had given no cause to anyone to think that he was anything otherwise than what he was making himself out to be.
the weather had improved during the night and the sun was now shining; nevertheless there were still indications that it was going to be a showery day. however, it was arranged that the shooting party should make a start at ten, and in the meantime, with breakfast over, nearly everyone went outside and stood sunning themselves before the big door.
presently a tall, slouching figure was seen striding down the drive and it was recognised at once as that of henrik. he was evidently coming up with the lobsters he had procured.
“most opportune,” thought larose, “then i’ll go beyond the fence and talk to him when he comes into the road.”
so about a quarter of an hour later the detective, hidden now from all sight of the abbey by the trees, stepped out in front of the fisherman as the latter was ambling along with his empty basket.
“good morning,” he said with a smile. “you remember me? i held your hand steady whilst it was being bandaged yesterday.”
“yah, yah,” said henrik smiling back. he stretched out his hand. “bacco, bacco,” he went on.
larose took out his case and gave him a few cigarettes. “now,” he said, when henrik with no delay had set light to one of them, “what do you know about mr. daller being a smuggler!”
but the old man did not take any notice of the question. “goot,” he said with, a deep puff at the cigarette. “henrik like ‘bacco.”
“well, what do you know about mr. daller?” asked the detective, repeating his question sharply.
henrik smiled blandly. “no mooch inglish,” he replied, “no speak mooch.”
“nonsense!” said the detective. “you spoke it right enough last night. now what do you mean?”
the fisherman shook his head. “no understand,” he said.
larose scowled, “now look here, my friend,” he said sternly, “i’m going to stand no nonsense from you. you pointed distinctly to mr. daller and said he was a smuggler and told me to watch.”
“no,” said henrik stubbornly. “no speak inglis.”
the detective became furious. “you old liar,” he cried, “you can speak it quite well when you want to.” he gripped him tightly by the arm. “now, tell me at once what you meant.”
but the old man was so patently taken aback by the rough usage that he was receiving, that larose all at once began to waver in his absolute conviction. either henrik was speaking the truth, or else he was one of the best actors the detective had ever seen.
“and do you mean to tell me,” he said, still holding to the fisherman’s arm, “that you never used the word smuggler, or watch, or dope?”
“no inglis,” replied henrik shaking his head vigorously and looking really frightened. “verra few words.”
larose let go his arm. “look here,” he said in his most persuasive tone, “you tell me what i want to know and i’ll give you all the cigarettes i have here and a whole new box as well,” and he took out his case again and let henrik see there were still plenty in it.
the fisherman at once lost all his frightened appearance and flashed him a cunning look. “goot! goot!” he exclaimed eagerly and stretched out his hand.
“no,” said larose firmly, “you must tell me first,” and he drew back the cigarette case.
the fisherman looked as disappointed as a child.
“no inglis,” he repeated plaintively. “verra few words.”
larose gave it up. “get off,” he said angrily. “either you are a knave or i am a fool,” and he turned on his heel and started to walk back to the abbey.
henrik watched him for a few moments and then, with a grin at the half-dozen cigarettes he was holding in his hand, turned also and started to walk away.
larose was in a great state of doubt. one moment he was sure that the fisherman had been lying and the next he was anathematising himself as an imaginative fool.
and yet he could swear, he kept on telling himself, that henrik had said “smuggler,” and “watch,” and also with his sunken lips over his toothless gums, had mouthed the word “dope.”
but for the time being, at all events, larose was to have no further opportunity for speculation, for, arriving back at the abbey, all was bustle and animation in preparation for the shoot. the men were to start away first, then, if it continued fine, the ladies would be joining them at the picnic lunch.
always an enthusiastic lover of the gun, the detective was now delighted at the thought of his first meeting with the lordly and aristocratic pheasant.
so, notwithstanding his many perplexities and the very disappointing interview with the fisherman, he was in quite an elated state of mind, as, together with sir parry bardell and rankin, he found himself being driven swiftly along in the car of the great surgeon. four cars in all were then leaving the abbey.
but it was well for him that he was not aware of what exactly were going to be the happenings of the next few hours.
the death of many a beautifully-plumaged bird was knelling on that bright october morning, but had larose only known it, his own death was almost being knelled too, and it was only by the merest chance that he was to return in the evening alive.
he had been marked down by one to whom another’s life was of no account if it could be taken secretly, and in the pocket of one of the very men now leaving the abbey were two cartridges whose missions of destruction were not intended for any bird.
however, everything went well until late in the afternoon, and although the detective had had no experience at all of the conditions appertaining to shooting in england, and had been feeling quite apprehensive that he might occasion satisfaction to the sneering and supercilious barrister if he failed, he had really acquitted himself handsomely, indeed earning the warm approval of the grim-visaged head gamekeeper, who had not seemed too pleased when he had been first informed that there was a novice among the party.
“but you’ll do, sir,” he said, when he saw larose, with a clean right and left, bring down two rocketing birds that came over flying very high, “both beautifully-timed shots, sir.”
the detective was delighted with himself. the birds had come bursting into sight above the trees, like projectiles from a gun, and in a lightning flash he had made a most accurate calculation as to how far they must travel to exactly run into his messengers of death.
after that, he had lost all his nervousness, and continued to do good execution among the birds. when all the party forgathered to partake of the sumptuous picnic lunch that had been provided, not a few of them congratulated him upon his prowess.
larose was quite sorry lady ardane was not present to hear them, but a drizzling rain having set in about noon, none of the ladies had put in an appearance.
“and are you as good with the rifle as you are with the gun, mr. maxwell?” asked young huntington presently with a most friendly smile.
“oh! i’ve had a lot of luck this morning,” laughed larose, “and the birds would come my way.” he nodded. “but i’ve done a good bit of kangaroo-shooting with the rifle.”
“and the pistol?” asked huntington very interestedly.
“pretty fair,” replied larose, and he would have sworn that his interrogator suppressed a smile.
his good luck continued during the afternoon, and with the head gamekeeper, with an eye to a big tally at the end of the day, now invariably placing him in a favorable position, he brought down plenty of birds, and he smiled to himself many times, with the reflection that he was certainly combining pleasure with business.
a little before dusk the last covert was about to be beaten, and he was stationed at the extreme end of a rather dense wood.
he was about a hundred yards distant from the wood, among a number of scattered bushes, about waist high. just in front of him ran a deep ditch and behind him, not ten paces away, was a tall, thick hedge, separating the field he was in from a tarred public road.
it had been close and muggy all day, but on account of the rain he had had to wear his macintosh nearly all the time. now, however, the rain had stopped, and feeling uncomfortably warm, he took it off and threw it carelessly over a bush just beside him.
the wood was a long one and the guns were in consequence spread out. on his right, about 150 yards away, was sir arnold medway, and on his left, although he could not see him, because of the bending round of the wood, he knew the american, theodore rankin, was stationed.
a few minutes passed in inaction, and the light beginning now to fade rapidly and hearing no sound of gunfire anywhere, he began to think that the shoot was over and that the beaters had been called off.
so, feeling a little tired with the unaccustomed exertions of the day, he sat down upon the ditchside and, with his gun across his knees, took out a cigarette.
then suddenly — like a veritable crack of doom — came a deafening report right behind him, and the seething hiss of shot just above his head, and he saw his macintosh jerked off the bush as if someone had heaved it up with a vicious kick. then not three seconds later the sounds were repeated, the bang and the vicious hiss, and his unfortunate macintosh, in whirls which he could not follow with his eyes, made another upward movement and then disappeared into the ditch.
his brain worked automatically, and realising something of what was happening he literally hurled himself, face forwards, into the ditch.
“gosh!” he gasped, wringing the mud and water from his eyes, “but those were intended for me.”
he waited only a few seconds and then, with his heart pumping like a steam engine, started to run at his utmost speed along the bottom of the ditch.
less than a hundred yards brought him to the end, and he was now close to the tarred road, with a wide gap through the thick hedge, behind which he knew his would-be murderer must have been standing when he fired.
with his automatic pistol ready in his hand, he raised himself up stealthily and then, seeing no one near, wasted no time and sprang up on to the road.
but the road was quite deserted, and neither to the right nor to the left could he see any movement anywhere.
“gone!” he muttered disgustedly, “and he probably thinks i’m dead.” he nodded grimly. “but how right old jones was! they soon found me out.” he gritted his teeth. “and i’ll soon find out how. it’s a fight in the open now.”
larose turned suddenly, to find sir arnold only a few paces from him, walking slowly up. the great surgeon was carrying his gun upon his shoulder and was smoking a cigar. with eyes for everything, the detective noted that the cigar had only just been lit.
“some birds came over then, mr. maxwell?” said sir arnold. “but they’ll probably be the last, for lord wonnock has just signaled me that the beaters have been called off.” he regarded the white face and muddied figure of the detective and his face puckered up into a frown. “but what’s happened to you?” he asked. “you’ve been in the wars!”
“nothing much,” replied larose, forcing a smile. “i slipped into the ditch. that was all.”
but the surgeon’s frown deepened, he took the cigar out of his mouth, hesitated a moment and then asked abruptly, “are you a detective, mr. maxwell?”
larose almost choked in his astonishment. he felt stifled and could hardly get his breath.
“pardon my asking you,” went on sir arnold quickly, “for i know of course that it’s no business of mine, but the idea just came to me, very suddenly.” he spoke with great kindliness. “now, i see you are in distress. can i help you in any way?”
quick-witted as he was by nature, for once larose could not for the second call up a sufficiently evasive reply, but instead asked hoarsely, “what makes you think i am a detective?”
sir arnold smiled. “your face is ghastly white, sir,” he replied, “and its pallor shows where you are made up.” he shrugged his shoulders. “we are all aware of the trouble that is over lady ardane, and although, as far as i know, we have none of us discussed it, i think we are all of opinion that a detective has been introduced into the abbey.” he nodded gravely “so seeing you in this condition, it came to me that ——” he broke off and asked sharply, “but tell me, what has just happened?”
“my macintosh got the contents of two barrels,” replied larose dryly, “but fortunately i was not in it at the time, as it was hanging upon a bush.” he drew in a deep breath. “someone fired twice, from behind that hedge, with the deliberate intention of killing me.” his color began to come back, and he spoke now in a sharp, decisive tone. “yes, i am a detective, sir arnold, and now please excuse me for taking a liberty,” and stretching out his hand, he laid his fingers lightly upon one of the surgeon’s wrists and felt for his pulse.
the great man looked very amused. “taking no chances, i see,”— his face assumed a very grave expression —“and you are quite justified. no, my pulse is steady, and it was not i who fired upon you.”
“i never thought it was,” replied larose quickly, dropping the wrist at once, “and i only touched you as a matter of form. now,” he went on, “if you will, you can do me a great service, but wait just a moment until i go and get my gun. i left it in the ditch.”
“no, i’ll come with you,” said the surgeon instantly, “and if the assassin is still about, he may hesitate to fire again with me with you.”
the detective retrieved his gun and the sadly-mutilated macintosh, and then together the two made their way on to the tarred road. then almost immediately they saw theodore rankin step out from another gap in the hedge, some little distance away.
“make some excuse, please, sir arnold,” said larose quickly, “and feel that man’s pulse with as little delay as possible. say i have been arguing with you that americans are a very excitable race.” his face darkened. “but not a word to anyone, please, that i have told you i am a detective.”
the american looked in their direction, and then stood waiting for them to come up, and approaching him sir arnold lost no time in doing as the detective had asked.
“this australian friend of ours, mr. rankin,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “has some very original ideas, and among others, he will have it that you americans are excitable constitutionally, and so wear yourselves out much quicker than we cold-blooded britishers do.”
“well, what i mean,” explained larose quickly, “is that in everything you undertake you get more excitement out of it than we do. take the slaughter of these poor birds today, for instance. now ——”
“give me your hand at once, mr. rankin,” broke in sir arnold with mock solemnity, “and we’ll settle this matter forthwith. the pulse-rate is a sure indication of the degree of excitement.”
the american, looking rather puzzled, held out his hand and sir arnold proceeded very gravely to feel his pulse.
“hum! hum!” he remarked after holding it for only a very few seconds, “quite quiet and regular.” he turned to the detective. “so your theories, mr. maxwell, will not hold water in the case of this gentleman at any rate. as for you, sir,” he went on to the american, “your pulse is much too slow. you smoke far too many cigarettes.”
but the american made no comment. he was apparently too occupied in taking in the muddied condition of larose.
“don’t be anxious, mr. rankin,” laughed sir arnold. “our friend has not been in a fight. he’s only fallen into a ditch, and after covering himself with glory, he has now covered himself with mud.”
the american smiled a slow, inscrutable smile. “but what did you get with those last two shots, mr. maxwell?” he asked.
“nothing,” replied the detective, shaking his head.
“both were misses!” exclaimed the american, raising his eyebrows.
“yes,” replied larose with a sigh, “misses with both barrels.”
they proceeded to walk back to where all the cars had been left, and realised they must have been the last of the shoot to leave their stations, as they met the other three cars upon their way back to the abbey. larose was greatly disgusted, for he had been hoping to discern disappointment upon the face of some one among the party when he appeared unhurt.
a few minutes later they got into their car and sir arnold drove off at a good pace. they had not, however, proceeded a couple of hundred yards before a dreadful accident almost occurred. a boy upon a bicycle came careering out of a side lane and it was only by a matter of inches that he escaped being run down.
but sir arnold had kept his presence of mind, and well judging the distance, had swept by just the very fraction of a second before the bicycle came into the track of the car.
the great surgeon seemed quite unperturbed and made no remark, but sir parry, who was sitting next to him, uttered a long-drawn “o-oh,” and then looked round with a ghastly smile to the detective and rankin behind.
for the second the detective had felt his own heart stand still, but then, quickly alive to his opportunity, he turned to the american and laid his fingers lightly upon one of the latter’s wrists.
rankin only smiled. “still steady and quiet,” he remarked blandly, “and not a beat above the 65.” he nodded. “i’m in the wheat gamble, you know, and you want nerves of steel to succeed there.” he nodded again, “nothing really upsets me, and i believe i could commit a murder without turning a hair.”
and the detective, sinking back in his seat, was inclined to think so, too.
