as the crow flies, larose saw that it would not be much more than half a mile from where he had encountered sir parry to the latter’s residence, and mindful of the keen anticipation expressed by the knight for the forthcoming draught of royal shandy, the detective was a little surprised that he was not now taking the direct way along a path leading across the open meadows.
instead, however, after walking only a very short distance, sir parry turned off at right angles to the path and made for the opening in a long and curving plantation of small larches, that extended almost up to his house.
“i think we’ll go this way,” he remarked cheerily, “for although it’s a little longer, it’s such a pretty walk and i always like, too, to make sure that there are no trespassers about. this is all lady ardane’s property and the people round here are inveterate poachers.” he smiled. “you see, i act as a sort of honorary bailiff for her, and i don’t let anyone take any advantage because she’s a woman.”
and he certainly appeared to be most zealous in his self-imposed task, for he kept on looking back, almost as if he had thought some trespasser would be appearing behind, the very moment that he had passed.
reaching the end of the wood and now barely a hundred yards from the house, he made yet another slight detour.
“we’ll go in the back way, if you don’t mind,” he said, “because it’s not as muddy as the path by the front door,” and the detective was speedily of opinion that the mud must be very bad indeed in front of the house, if it were worse than that through which he was then walking.
sir parry let himself in through a door that he unlocked, and then invited the detective to follow.
“we shall be able to talk quite freely,” he remarked, pausing for a moment before he closed the door, “for the house at this hour is always empty.” he smiled. “i’m a crusty old bachelor, mr. larose, and have developed peculiar ways of my own. for instance, i have two servants to look after me, but they are only on the premises during certain hours. they live quite apart by themselves, in a bungalow i had built for them, a good two hundred yards away among those trees. they arrive to perform their duties at 7.30 punctually every morning. they get my breakfast and attend to the house and then by eleven are away again and i don’t see anything more of them until half-past four, when they return to prepare my evening meal.”
“very lonely for you, isn’t it!” asked larose.
“but i like it,” nodded sir parry. “it just suits me. i partake of nothing, except perhaps a biscuit or two at midday, and so i am quiet and undisturbed all day, am able to pursue my studies without interruption.” he seemed very pleased with himself. “i have so trained my servants that they perform all their duties automatically and i hardly ever speak to them.” he laughed. “and i should certainly have some difficulty in holding much conversation with them at any time, for one is practically stone-deaf and the other is a deaf-mute.”
as the recipient of so much information touching upon sir parry’s domestic arrangements, the detective was beginning to feel rather bored, and, very thirsty after his long walk, was wishing his host would proceed quickly to hospitality and produce the long draught of royal shandy that he had promised. so he was relieved when sir parry at last led the way along the passage, and ushered him into a cosily furnished dining-room.
but there a surprise awaited them both, and with sir parry, from the expression upon his face, no little annoyance was mingled with the surprise.
a tall, thin woman, well in middle-age, was standing upon a short step-ladder and putting up some clean curtains to one of the windows, and she turned a pair of very startled deep black eyes upon them as they entered the room.
sir parry looked most annoyed, and motioned sharply to her to leave the room, but then apparently perceiving she had nearly finished the work, and that if she were now sent peremptorily away, the room would be left uncurtained, with another sharp jerk of his head he motioned her to continue.
“my housekeeper; and she knows she has no business to be here at this time,” he explained to the detective, “but she is a woman of low intelligence, and i suppose, seeing me go out, she thought regulations were made to be broken.”
the detective was regarding the woman interestedly, and was certainly not agreeing with sir parry that she was of low intelligence. on the contrary, he told himself, she had quite a thoughtful, if a very sad, face. she seemed desperately afraid of her master and was trembling, he noted, as she went on with her work.
sir parry, however, had quickly recovered his good humor. “we can talk quite unreservedly before her,” he said, “for i don’t think she’d hear a gun fired, if it went off right by her very ears, and it’s her deafness that so adds to her stupidity.”
“has she always been deaf?” asked the detective.
“no, it came on six or seven years ago,” replied sir parry. “i had the local doctor to her, but he said nothing could be done. however, she wasn’t satisfied and wanted to go to some quack in norwich and spend thirty or forty pounds.” he looked very scornful. “but i put down my foot on that right away and absolutely forbade it.”
he moved over to the sideboard, and his whole tone of voice altered. “but now i’ll show you something,” he said with great pride, bringing out two beautiful, old-fashioned silver goblets. “look at these, the cherubim and the seraphim, and, as you are the guest, you shall drink out of the seraphim, who, in jewish lore, as i expect you are aware, was of the highest angelic order. these goblets are very old and have been in the possession of my family for many generations. in fact, you know”— and he dropped his voice into a whisper —“i shouldn’t wonder if they were not once used as chalices, and stolen from some monastery at the time of henry viii. a few years back a dealer offered me four hundred guineas for them.” he laughed as if very amused. “and fancy! a detective from scotland yard going to drink champagne out of one of them! here, look at it closely.”
the detective took the goblet he held out. it was beautifully chased, and below the figure of an angel was engraved in quaint old english characters, “ye guardian of ye threshold.”
sir parry seemed as happy as a child. “now you go and rest in that armchair,” he said, “for you must be tired after your walk, and you can amuse yourself with this morning’s paper. i don’t suppose you have seen it. and i’ll go and get the ingredients for this royal beverage.”
he bustled quickly from the room and the woman, having finished putting up the curtains, came down off the steps. in so doing, however, she knocked over a little box of curtain rings and miscellaneous odds and ends and scattered them all upon the floor. the detective immediately rose from his chair and, moving over to her side, helped her to gather them together again. she flushed uncomfortably, and then, with everything replaced, gave him a shy and grateful look as she hurried from the room.
sir parry returned very soon with the stout and champagne. “no, don’t you get up yet,” he said with an assumption of stern authority. “the mixing of this shandy is almost a ritual, and must be done in most exact proportions to bring out the exquisite favor. so you just read on for a minute or two, and i’ll tell you when i’m ready.”
but then just as he was about to pull the cork of the bottle of stout the telephone began to tinkle loudly in some distant part of the house, and he made a gesture of intense annoyance.
“i must go,” he said ruefully, “for i expect it is my doctor in norwich, and if i don’t answer it he may not trouble to ring again.” he shook his head. “he’s a big man and very offhand!”
and then, as if flurried at being interrupted in the middle of preparing the kingly beverage, he popped both the goblets quickly back into the sideboard and shut the door upon them again.
“i shan’t be two minutes,” he called out as he hurried from the room, “and you go on reading your paper.”
the detective heard him running up the passage, and then his voice, quite a long way away, speaking into the phone. but he had hardly uttered two words before his housekeeper glided into the room and made straight for the sideboard.
opening the door, she quickly abstracted the two goblets.
“the master is very absent-minded,” she explained with a smile back at larose. “these goblets want dusting inside.”
the detective had glanced up upon her entrance, and his eyes continued to remain fixed upon her, until she had left the room. seemingly, he was interested in her.
and certainly he would have been more interested still, if he had been a spectator of what she was doing half a minute later for, with all appearance of frenzied hurry, she was putting a heaped-up teaspoonful of white powder, which she had just taken from a small box in a drawer, into the goblet of the seraphim from which he was so shortly to imbibe the draught of royal shandy.
she was back in the dining-room, and replacing the goblets and reclosing the sideboard door, had glided away again before sir parry had finished his conversation upon the phone.
“i am so sorry to have kept you,” apologised the latter when at last he returned, “but i had to take in all the instructions he gave me. it was my doctor, and i was getting advice about my lumbago.”
he bustled back to the sideboard. “now, where was i? let me think! ah! i remember, i was just going to open the stout.”
with a frown, most probably at his absent-mindedness for having replaced the goblets in the sideboard, he took them out again, and with great care poured in the stout and champagne, in equal proportions.
“now, mr. larose,” he said, “a biscuit and we’re set.”
he handed over to the detective the brimming goblet of the seraphim, and went on fussily, “a big draught, if you please, sir, for that’s the only way to drink champagne.” he raised one finger solemnly. “no sipping ever at a sparkling wine.”
they raised the goblets to each other. “well, here’s luck,” said larose, “and to the memory of a great king,” and, after a deep breath of pleasurable anticipation, he took a long and steady draught from the goblet of the guardian of the threshold.
they put down their goblets together exactly at the same moment. “like it?” said sir parry, beaming over with good nature.
“‘too right,’ as we say in australia,” replied larose, “too right i do.” he moved his tongue about and swallowed several times. “but it has a slight saline taste, i think.”
sir parry moved his tongue about too, and then nodded, “yes, i think it has — but very slight. it’s probably the stout.”
the goblets were filled again and the shandy drunk to its last drop.
“now there’s only one thing about this drink,” said sir parry meditatively, “and that is it makes you very sleepy. i always begin to feel drowsy after it, in a very few minutes, and then want to lie down and have forty winks.”
“well, it hasn’t made me feel drowsy,” smiled larose, “at any rate yet.”
“talking about doctors,” went on sir parry meditatively, “as a profession, i think they are very wonderful,” he screwed up his eyes —“but there are a lot of duds among them, and they make great mistakes sometimes. now, take my own case, for instance. for years and years i suffered from obscure internal pains, and doctor after doctor averred that stones were forming in various parts of my poor body, and held over me the threat of most unpleasant operations later on to cut them out.” his face assumed a reverential look. “then, just by chance, i lighted upon a great master in the calling, and in 2 minutes he had swept aside all ideas of operations and x-rays and just said that from time to time crystals were formed in my body, oxalate crystals, he called them, and it was these that gave me all the pains.” he smiled. “as for treatment — it was nothing. only a little simple matter of diet. i gave up all milk, tea, cocoa, spinach and a few other things and — i was cured in a few days. wonderful, wasn’t it?”
he ambled on and on, quite content to do all the talking and showing no sign of coming to the point and explaining why he had wanted to have a talk with larose, but the latter noted that many times he half-paused in his remarks to give him a very intent look.
at last the detective, who realised all his time was being wasted, broke in upon one of sir parry’s discursions into philosophy.
“excuse me,” he said most politely, “but i must be going soon and i want to ask you a few questions.” he went straight to the point. “now can you vouch for the character of young huntington?”
sir parry spoke most decisively. “most certainly i can,” he replied. “i’ve known him since he was 14 and he’s one of the best and most trusted officers who have ever been employed upon my boats.”
“but he was not speaking the truth,” said larose sternly, “when he made out his acquaintance with mr. daller dated only from the night they both arrived at the abbey.”
“on the contrary,” said sir parry warmly, “i believe implicitly that he had not met mr. daller before.” he looked very stern. “apart from his saying so”— and he now picked his words very carefully —“i am sure mr. daller is not of the type of man he would be having any friendship with.” he spoke most emphatically. “i do not like bernard daller, mr. larose.”
“hullo! hullo!” thought the detective, “now perhaps i’m going to learn something at last.”
“but why don’t you like him?” he asked at once. “he seems to be very devoted to lady ardane.”
“and perhaps that’s one reason,” smiled sir parry, “for i am quite aware that he would propose to lady ardane at once, if she gave him the slightest encouragement. happily, however, her ladyship has more sense.”
“but what have you got against him!” persisted the detective.
“nothing really particular,” was the reply. “just instinct. i don’t like him, that’s all.”
“but have you any suspicions about him in relation to this kidnapping?” asked larose.
“it’s no good pressing me,” remonstrated sir parry, “for i have nothing to tell you. if i knew anything you would have heard it long ago.” he nodded testily. “yes, i have suspicions about him, but then i have suspicions about others too.” he spoke very solemnly. “i have suspicions, sir, that are so monstrous and unbelievable that in entertaining them i sometimes think i must be going out of my mind.” tears welled up in his eyes. “but unsupported suspicions help no one. we can do nothing, and that poor woman there is suffering all the time.”
he refused to discuss the matter any further, and to all the enquiries of the detective just answered curtly, “no.”
the conversation languished and died down, and then sir parry put up his hand to suppress a yawn.
“don’t you feel sleepy too?” he asked in a very tired tone of voice.
larose shook his head, and taking the yawn as a hint, rose up to go, but sir parry was at once all protests.
“no, no,” he said “surely you’re not going yet? why, i haven’t shown you my telescopes! we’ll go up to my observatory at once.”
the detective was not particularly keen, and half inclined to refuse, but a couple of minutes or so later, up in the big observatory, he was very glad that he had not, for, taking advantage of the moment when sir parry was adjusting a blind at the far end of the room, he glued his eye to a telescope that he saw on a tripod, and sweeping it round, got something of a shock.
every yard of the way he had traversed that morning could be followed foot by foot, and not only that, but the very patch of grass in which he had been lying as he watched the stone house, stood out as clearly as if it were in the garden just below.
“gee!” he muttered, and he took his eyes from the telescope to find sir parry close behind him, and for some reason not looking too pleased.
the detective suppressed all signs of the uneasiness that he was feeling, and remarked enthusiastically, “by jove! but this is a beautiful telescope. how plainly old henrik’s hut comes up!”
“yes,” replied sir parry, still with a half frown, “and i don’t know what’s come over him lately. he always seems to be rolling about dead drunk, as if he had discovered treasure somewhere, and were spending it on rum.”
“do you look through this little telescope often!” asked larose, with a backward glance at the very big one in the middle of the room, and then he would have sworn that sir parry was about to answer “no.”
“y— es,” however, admitted the knight hesitatingly, and then his face brightened suddenly and he gave a sly smile. “i quite understand why you ask me, for naturally you are wondering if i saw you this morning.” he nodded. “well i did. you were watching that stone house there and saw the motor car drive away.” he lowered his voice mysteriously. “now may i ask if you have any suspicions about anybody there?”
the detective realised instantly that any prevarication would be quite useless, for sir parry was certainly not simple enough to believe that he, larose, had been watching there with no purpose in view.
“well, i don’t know whether there are suspicions,” he replied slowly, “but i certainly want to know something about these men, if only because they were newcomers to the neighborhood just before all this trouble started.”
“and what did you find out?” asked sir parry, very interested.
“nothing,” replied the detective stoutly, “except that they’ve got a very nice car.”
sir parry stared intently at larose and then yawned again, but, as before the yawn did not seem to be infectious, for the detective was looking uncommonly bright and alert. then, apparently after a few moments of very hard thinking, sir parry frowned.
“i think,” he said reproachfully “that it would have paid you better to have taken me a little more into your confidence.” he pointed across the marshes. “now i could have told you a lot about those men, for i pick them up often in the telescope.” he paused to marshal his facts. “there are three of them, and they go out very little and then only to fish. they have no visitors and i have never seen them speak to anyone except henrik. they get their provisions once a week, they go to bed early, and they get up late.” he smiled. “a little mysterious, for heaven only knows how they can put in their time.”
“they go to bed early,” commented larose.
“yes, their light goes out about nine o’clock. ah!” and sir parry made a low whistle. “now if you want to get a close-up view of them, without their knowing anything about it, then night’s the time, for they don’t appear to possess any blinds. you could creep close up to the house and look through that one window at the side. that’s the room where they always are.”
he mentioned to larose to pick up the telescope again. “now, i’ll tell you the best way to go. keep on the bitumen until you are two hedges beyond where the marsh road turns off. then make your way direct across the field, hugging the hedge close upon your right. when you get almost up to the end of the hedge you’ll see a stile, but don’t get over that. instead, creep through a hole in the hedge that you’ll see close by and you’ll come out within 20 yards of the house.”
he repeated his instructions and larose took them in carefully. then putting the whole matter of the kidnapping out of his mind, for nearly an hour sir parry explained the wonderful mechanism of his big telescope.
time after time the detective said he really could not stay any longer, but always sir parry found something to delay his departure.
at last larose started to walk down the stairs upon his own accord, and his host was then obliged to follow.
“i’m very sorry you must go, mr. larose,” he said, “for you’re most agreeable company. i always heard that you were a remarkable man and now i quite agree.”
he let the detective out of the door, and then stood thoughtfully watching him as he made his way down the path.
“yes, you’re certainly a remarkable man,” he repeated with a very puzzled frown as he at length closed the door and turned back into the house, “indeed, so remarkable that i don’t understand you at all.”
and larose, as well, was full of puzzled thoughts. “what’s bitten you, gilbert?” he asked, looking very annoyed. “you’re nervy. do you think somebody’s been walking over your grave?” he shook his head. “i ought never to have been given the shandy out of that seraphim. that’s it, for i’ve had a ghost looking over my shoulder every since.”
the detective had told sir parry that he should be walking back to the abbey through the wood, but directly he was out of sight of the house he doubled back and made off in exactly the opposite direction. he wanted to have a look at the bungalow where sir parry’s servants lived.
coming out of the wood he saw the bungalow right before him. its situation was certainly very lonely and secluded, for the wood was upon three sides of it, and even upon the fourth side it had only about a hundred yards of open space before another wood closed it in.
in front of it was a small garden, trim and beautifully kept, and as the detective approached, he saw the housekeeper busy by the little fence, pruning a rose tree. the woman, however, did not catch sight of him until he was almost up to the gate, and then she looked the very picture of consternation and surprise.
but larose, with a reassuring smile, doffed his cap and then made signs asking for permission to open the gate. the woman ran to do it for him and then he pointed to the door of the house, making her understand that he wanted to go in. here the permission did not seem to be so readily accorded, but the detective mouthing the words ‘want to speak to you,’ after a moment’s hesitation, the woman led the way into the bungalow and then into a small room which was obviously the sitting-room.
she pointed to a chair, and larose pointing to another, they both sat down, with the width of a small table between them. then the detective took a note-book and a pencil out of his pocket, and tearing out a leaf from the book, wrote on it, “i just want to ask you one or two simple questions.”
he passed the paper across to her, and after glancing down upon it, she looked up and nodded. she seemed, however, rather frightened as she passed it back.
then larose wrote, “now, please do exactly as i tell you,” and after reading it, she looked more frightened still.
then larose again penciled a few words — this time: “look me straight in the face, please, and keep your eyes fixed on mine.”
the woman now seemed terrified, but she did as he commanded, and he rewarded her with a pleasant smile.
he waited perhaps five seconds, and then putting the pencil and paper back in his pocket, said in his ordinary tone of voice, “you are not deaf at all. you can hear quite well what i am saying.”
the woman became pale as death, her jaw dropped, and her eyes opened widely. she clutched at the table with both hands and began to breathe quickly.
“now don’t distress yourself,” said larose kindly, “for it’s your secret and i have no intention of giving you away. i’m a detective, it’s true, but i’m not after you, and if you choose to serve a very eccentric master as a deaf woman,” he shrugged his shoulders, “well, it’s nothing to do with me, and i’m certainly not going to interfere.”
the woman made no attempt at any denial. “then what do you come here for?” she asked hoarsely and in a very deep voice.
larose smiled a most reassuring smile. “i was just interested, that’s all,” he replied. “i wanted to make sure that my conjecture was right. i saw you flush when sir parry said you were of low intelligence, and when you were putting those goblets back in the sideboard you knocked them together and then you hesitated a couple of seconds or so, as if to learn if the tinkling had reached your master.” he laughed lightly. “it looked to me as if you knew you were doing something which would displease him.”
the woman had in a great measure recovered her composure, and now the expression upon her face was one of resentment rather than fear.
“the master loses his temper very quickly,” she said, “and he had no business to call me ‘low.’ my father was a minister and my mother taught in a school, and if i am a servant i’m not ‘low.’” she began to cry. “i’ve had a lot of trouble in my life and a lot of misfortune, and now if the master gets to know that i have been deceiving him about my deafness, he’ll send me away and i’ve nowhere to go. i have no friends at all.” tears trickled down her cheeks. “he can be very hard sometimes.”
larose, touched by her distress, leant across the table and patted one of her hands.
“never mind, never mind,” he said gently, “i’ll not tell anyone.” he spoke as sympathetically as he could. “really, i am very sorry that, just to gratify my vanity, i’ve made you tell me your secret.” he rose up from his chair. “now, i’ll go off and you can forget that i’ve been here.”
“no, no,” she cried quickly, and she begun at once to dry her tears. “you, mustn’t go like that. you are being very kind to me and i’m not accustomed to any kindness.” she choked, back a sob. “i live a very lonely life and i always seem to have been unhappy.” her face brightened and she began to smooth down her hair. “but now you’ll stop and have a cup of tea. the kettle’s just boiling. you’ll stop, won’t you?”
“certainly,” said larose. “i’d like a cup very much.”
and then over tea and bread and butter he heard the story of a truly unhappy life.
she was a widow, kate dilling by name, fifty years of age, and had lost her husband after only one year of married life. she had had one child, a little boy, and he had been burnt to death by the upsetting of a lamp, before her very eyes. for fifteen years she had been sir parry’s housekeeper, and at first he had been very kind to her, but the last few years he had been becoming more and more eccentric, and lately, especially, he had altered a lot. he was very morbid now. eight years ago she had begun to grow very deaf, and she knew sir parry had been glad about it, for he had developed the habit of muttering a lot to himself, and he did it out loud, and was quite aware of his failing.
the local doctor had said he could do nothing for her deafness, but unknown to sir parry and very much against his wish, she had been treated by a norwich herbalist, and now was quite cured. she dared not tell sir parry, however, for she was sure he would send her away at once if he knew. she had to keep up the pretence to everyone that she was stone deaf and had no friends in consequence, and never went out anywhere. her only companion was a deaf-mute girl of seventeen, and no one ever came near them, not even sir parry. he had not visited the bungalow for years and years.
“what a lonely life!” exclaimed larose when at last she had finished. “i only wonder how you can put up with it.”
“but i have my flowers and my canaries,” she said — she smiled —“and i play patience every evening.” a peculiar look came all at once into her face and she regarded the detective with suddenly troubled eyes. “i know a lot about cards,” she went on quickly, “and i’ll tell your fortune for you if you like,” and without waiting for any acquiescence she rose up to get a pack.
the detective smiled indulgently. he wanted to go away, but he felt really sorry for the woman and realised what a relief it was to her to talk to someone.
“now, don’t interrupt, please, whatever you do,” she said as she resumed her seat, “or you will break the train of my thoughts and spoil everything. keep quite silent and just watch.”
she shuffled the cards well and spread them before her upon the table. then, in accordance with a ritual of followers of her craft, in dead silence and with frowning brows, she began picking them out, and continually changing their positions. her face became the more and more troubled as each minute passed.
at last she spoke. “you are under a dark cloud,” she said slowly and with her eyes still intent upon the cards, “and a great danger threatens. you have recently been in great danger, too — so never again go where you have been today, for i see evil there. you are too sure of yourself, and you do not understand the forces that are up against you. i see blood”— she spoke with an effort —“and someone is going to die. the ace of spades is continually falling into the line.” she shook her head. “you are being deceived somewhere. so trust no one, for the seemingly most harmless man may be your greatest enemy. in particular, beware of a young man with a sunny smile.”
she spoke now in a hoarse whisper. “but never, never go where you have been today, for you have been standing over an open grave”— her voice trailed away to nothing —“and the grave was yours.”
with a quick movement, she gathered up the cards and flung them back into a drawer. her face was very pale and she was trembling.
the detective was looking amused, but all the same he felt a little bit uncomfortable. he prided himself that he was not in the least bit superstitious, but she had been twanging upon the self-same chords that not an hour ago had been vibrating so violently in him.
“then i’m not to go anywhere where i’ve been today,” he said banteringly. “well, that’s certainly rather rough upon your master, for i’ve been a solid three hours with him”— he thought agreeably of the royal shandy —“and he opened a bottle of champagne for me.”
“but he’s not very pleased with you, mr. larose,” she said quickly, “for he doesn’t like her ladyship being so friendly with you!”
“friendly!” ejaculated larose. “why, i’m only there as a detective from scotland yard.”
the woman smiled. “but her ladyship told him you were the bravest man she had ever known, and that it was a fortunate day for her when she met you.”
larose felt the blood surging riotously through his veins, and for one moment the memory of that red head upon his shoulder was blotting out consideration of all else. but then, very quickly, that moment passed, and, with his face set hard, he was the cold and calculating detective again.
“look here,” he said sternly, “you know too much about me, i’m thinking, and there was something behind all that jargon over the cards just now.” he moved up close to her and spoke very slowly. “now for one thing, mrs. dilling, how did you come to know that my name was larose? your master never mentioned it when you were in the room this morning.”
she looked rather frightened, but nevertheless answered readily enough.
“i’ve told you the master is continually talking to himself,” she replied, “and he’s mentioned your name several times, as the detective from scotland yard, at the abbey. then yesterday i had to have tea ready for senator harvey, who was coming over in the afternoon, and be there to wait upon them, and they spoke a lot about you.”
“what did they say about me?” asked larose.
“i didn’t catch it all,” was the reply, “because i was in and out of the room, but they both agreed you might have done something that had happened — to excite sympathy.”
the detective gulped down his rage. “did you hear someone had tried to shoot me?” he demanded.
she looked shocked. “no-o, i never heard that.”
“well, someone did,” went on larose, “and it is a near thing i’m not in that grave you talked about just now.” he eyed her intently. “now, does the senator often come up to see sir parry?”
“not when i’m about,” she replied. “i’ve never seen him there before.” she seemed suddenly to remember something and laid her hand upon his arm. “but senator harvey was out in these woods last night and met someone just at the corner here.”
“here!” ejaculated larose. “tell me about it.”
“i don’t know anything,” said the woman, “except that i woke up at half-past twelve and saw him in the moonlight, coming out of the wood. he stood still for about a minute, just in front of this bungalow and i saw his face plainly. then another man came out of the wood from the other direction and they talked together for a very little while, and then they both went off again.”
“together?” snapped larose.
“no, not together. they both went back into the wood where they had come out.”
a short silence followed and then the detective asked, “you know why i am here!”
she nodded. “yes, to see no one gets the child. some men have tried to take him to get a ransom.”
“who told you?” came the question as quick as lightning. “who told you, if you never speak to anyone?”
“two of the girls from the abbey,” was the instant reply, “miriam and gladys. they are housemaids there. they were out for a walk one afternoon about three weeks ago and stopped to admire my roses and i invited them in for a cup of tea. everyone knows i am supposed to be deaf and so they wrote it down on a piece of paper for me, and i learnt a lot besides, from their talking in between, when they were deciding what to write down.” she added, after a moment, for the detective had made no comment, “and the master talked a lot about it, too.” she shook her head slowly. “it’s very sad about the master, and it all comes from living so much alone. when he’s upset about anything, he talks on and on to himself, as if he were arguing with someone who is in the room.”
“but what does it matter to him,” asked the detective gruffly, “whether her ladyship speaks well of me, or not?”
the woman smiled a slow, meaning smile. “the older the man, mr. larose,” she said, “the bigger the fool, and the master’s always hoping to marry lady ardane himself. i know that that’s on his mind.”
“has he ever asked her?” scoffed larose.
she made a gesture of ignorance. “i shouldn’t think so,” she replied, “for he’s very cautious and makes sure of everything before he acts.” her face suddenly assumed a very anxious expression. “but they won’t get the child, will they, now you are here, and they won’t be able to injure you now you are on your guard.”
“i don’t know so much about that,” replied larose gruffly, “and i’m not sure that i’m too easy in my mind, now that you’ve read all about me in the cards.” he eyed her again very sternly and raised his voice suddenly. “now, no nonsense, you know something. yes, you do, and you’ve been trying to warn me in a roundabout way.” he stretched out and gripped her by the arm. “come on. tell me at once, i intend to know.”
she burst instantly again into tears. “i don’t know anything,” she said, “and you are being very unkind. you are making a great mistake, and i only imagine things. that’s all. this lonely life is unnatural to me, too, and i’m all nerves.”
then seeing from the expression on his face that he did not believe her, she suddenly checked her sobs and all at once becoming calm, faced him in a resolute and defiant manner. “well, you shall know my secret,” she cried, “if you will drag it from me.” she hesitated a moment. “i am unbalanced and not an ordinary woman, for ten years i was in an asylum for the insane.”
“i don’t believe you,” said the detective instantly. “you are telling me a lie.”
“i am not,” she replied passionately. “it is quite true.”
“what asylum were you in then?” he asked quickly. “now don’t stop to think.”
“in the one at norwich,” she replied.
“and the name of the superintendent? now, no hesitation. you must remember.”
“dr. alfred turner,” she said instantly.
the detective let go her arm. “and what made you go out of your mind?” he asked.
“the death of my child. i was a melancholic case and fed through a tube they used to put into my nose.”
the detective cross-examined her sharply, but it was soon evident to him that she had been an inmate of an asylum, for she described most graphically the varying kinds of treatments that had been given to the other patients in a manner that left no doubt in his mind that she was speaking the truth there. he asked her a lot of questions, but he could not trip her up in any way. he left her at last upon quite friendly terms, but he could not shake off the conviction that she had been upon the verge of telling him something, and had only refrained from doing so because she was afraid of the consequences, if she had done so.
he walked back through the wood in a very thoughtful frame of mind, and then, instead of going direct to the abbey, proceeded into burnham market and in the little post office there put through a trunk call to norwich.
the superintendent of the norwich police was soon at the other end of the phone and seemed very amused when he learned who was speaking.
“you’re a sly dog, aren’t you,” he chuckled. “on a holiday, you said you were, and now it’s all over the country that you’re at carmel abbey upon the very job that you pretended so innocently you had heard nothing about. never mind. what can i do for you?”
larose told him. he wanted an enquiry made at once at the norwich asylum, regarding a woman, kate dilling. she was supposed to have been a patient there for ten years, when a dr. alfred turner was the medical officer, and he wanted to know all about her.
“and i’ll ring up again,” he said, “in about an hour. you ought to have managed it by then.”
he returned to the abbey straight away, and, interviewing the two maids, miriam and gladys, learnt that everything had happened as sir parry’s housekeeper had said.
they had had tea with her, and they had written down everything exactly as she had said, and that was all the information they could furnish about her.
then larose rang up the norwich superintendent again and learnt that the latter had obtained all the information required.
a kate dilling had been in the asylum for ten years and two months, leaving just fifteen years ago. but she had not been a patient there. she had been one of the attendant nurses, and had left with a record of very efficient service behind her to go and live with a relation of hers. dr. alfred turner was now dead, but the secretary of the institution, who remembered her quite well, stated that she had always been esteemed as a conscientious and trustworthy woman.
“but she can tell lies when she wants to, for all that,” muttered the detective as he hung up the receiver, “and i think tomorrow i’ll go and have another little talk with her. she was certainly friendly towards me, but she’s hiding something. yes, she’s hiding something, for sure.”
