Читать книгу Unravelled Knots - Baroness Orczy - Страница 6

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The Man in the Corner had drawn out of his capacious pocket a fresh piece of string. And now his claw-like fingers started to work on it with feverish intentness. I watched him, fascinated, well knowing that his keen mind was just as busy with the problem of the “Hardacres” mystery as were his hands in the fashioning of some intricate and complicated knot.

“I am not,” he said after a while, “going to give you an elaborate description of the inquest and of the crowds that collected both inside and out of the court room, hoping to get a glimpse of the principal actors in the exciting drama. By now, of course, all those who had talked of the crime being without apparent motive had effectually been silenced. To every amateur detective, as well as to the professional, the murderer and his nefarious object appeared absolutely revealed to the light of day. Every indication, every scrap of evidence collected up to this hour, both direct and circumstantial, pointed to Arthur Clarke as the murderer of his sister. There were the letters, which were alleged to be worth five thousand pounds to the mysterious member of the aristocracy who was paying Miss Clarke a weekly pittance, obviously in order to silence her; there was the strong love motive― the young man in love with the girl far above him in station and wanting to get hold of a large sum of money in order, no doubt, to embark on some profitable business which might help him in his wooing; and there, above all, was the damning bit of khaki cloth in the murdered woman’s hand, and the tunic with the key of the locked door in its pocket found in a drawer in Clarke’s own room. No, indeed, the inquest was not likely to be a dull affair, more especially as no one doubted what the verdict would be, whilst a good many people anticipated that Clarke would at once be arrested on the coroner’s warrant and committed for trial at the next assizes on the capital charge.

“But though we all knew that the inquest would not be dull, yet we were not prepared for the surprises which were in store for us, and which will render that inquest a memorable one in the annals of criminal investigation. To begin with we already knew that Arthur Clarke had now the assistance of Mr. Markham, one of the leading solicitors of Barchester, in his difficult position. Acting on that gentleman’s advice Clarke had amplified the statement which he had originally made as to his movements on the fatal afternoon. This amplified statement he now reiterated on oath, and though frankly no one believed him, we were bound to admit that if he could substantiate it, an extraordinary complication would arise, which though it might not eventually clear him altogether, in the minds of thinking people, would at any rate give him the benefit of the doubt. What he now stated was in substance this:

“‘The servants at Meere Court,’ he said, ‘are quite right when they say that I left the party soon after five o’clock. I was rather tired, and after a last dance with Miss St. Jude I went upstairs to pay my respects to Lady Foremeere. Her ladyship, however, kept me talking for some considerable time on one subject and then another, until, to my astonishment, I saw that it was close on seven o’clock, when I hastily took my leave. While I was looking for my coat in the hall I remember that Lord Foremeere came out of the smoking-room and asked me if I knew whether the party downstairs had broken up. “These things are such a bore,” he said, “but I will see if I can get one of them to come up and show you out.” I told his lordship not to trouble; however, he rang the bell, and presently the butler, Spinks, came through from the servants’ quarters, and his lordship then went upstairs I think. A minute or two later Miss St. Jude came, also from the servants’ quarters; she sent Spinks away telling him that she would look after me; we then talked together for a few moments and then I said good night and went straight back to the hotel.’

“Now we had already learned from both the hall-porter and the head-waiter at the Deanery that Mr. Clarke was back at the hotel soon after seven o’clock, that he had his dinner in the restaurant at half-past, and that after spending an hour or so in the lounge after dinner he went up to his room and did not go out again until the following morning. Therefore all that was needed now was a confirmatory statement from Lady Foremeere to prove Arthur Clarke’s innocence, because in that case every hour of his time would be accounted for, from half-past three onwards, whilst Miss Clarke was actually seen alive by two neighbours when she introduced a visitor into her house at half-past five.

“The question would then resolve itself into, who was that visitor? leaving the more important one of the khaki tunic a baffling mystery, rather than a damning evidence.

“The entire court room was on the tiptoe of expectation when Lady Foremeere was formally called. I can assure you that the ubiquitous pin could have been heard to drop during the brief moment’s silence when the elegant society woman stood up and disposed her exquisite sable cape about her shoulders and then swore to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

“She answered the coroner’s questions in a dear, audible voice, and never wavered in her assertions. She said that her step-daughter had come up to her boudoir and asked her if she would see Mr. Arthur Clarke for a few moments; he had something very important to say to her.

“‘I was rather surprised at the strange request,’ Lady Foremeere continued with utmost composure, ‘and suggested that Mr. Clarke should make his important communication to Lord Foremeere, but my step-daughter insisted and to please her I agreed. I thought that I would get my husband to be present at this mysterious interview, but his lordship was having a short rest in the smoking-room, so on second consideration I decided not to disturb him. A minute or two later Mr.― er― Clarke presented himself and at once I realised that he had had too much to drink. He talked wildly about his desire to marry Miss St. Jude and very excitedly about some compromising letters which he alleged were in his possession and which he threatened to show to Lord Foremeere, if I did not at once give him so many thousand pounds. Naturally I ordered him out of the place, but he wouldn’t go for a long time; he got more and more incoherent and excited and it was not until I threatened to fetch Lord Foremeere immediately that he sobered down and finally I went away. He had been in my room about half an hour.’

“‘About half an hour?’” was the coroner’s earnest comment on this amazing piece of evidence, ‘but Mr. Clarke said that when he left your ladyship it was close on seven.’

‘“Mr.― er― Clarke is in error,’ her ladyship asserted firmly. ‘The clock had just struck half-past five when I succeeded in ridding myself of him.’

“You can easily imagine how great was the excitement at this moment and how intensified it became when Lord Foremeere gave evidence in his turn and further confused the issues. He began by corroborating Arthur Clarke’s statement about his having spoken to him in the hall at seven o’clock. It was almost unbelievable! Everybody gasped and the coroner almost gave a jump:

“‘But her ladyship has just told us,’ he said, ‘that Clarke left her at half-past five!’

“‘That, no doubt, is accurate,’ Lord Foremeere rejoined in his stiff, prim manner, ‘since her ladyship said so. All I know is that I was asleep in front of the fire in the smoking-room when I heard a loud bang issuing from the hall. I went to see what it was and there I certainly saw Clarke. He was just coming through the glass door which divides the outside vestibule from the hall, and he appeared to me to have come straight out of the wet and to have left his hat and coat in the outer vestibule.’

“‘But,’ the coroner insisted, ‘what made your lordship think that he had come from outside?’

“‘Well, for one thing his face and hands were quite wet and he was wiping them with his handkerchief when I first caught sight of him. His boots too were wet and so were the edges of his trousers, and then, as I said, he was coming into the hall from the outer vestibule, and it was the banging of the front door which had roused me.’

“‘And the hour then was?’

“‘The clock had not long since struck seven. But my butler will be able to confirm this.’

“And Spinks the butler did confirm this portion of his lordship’s statement, though he could say nothing about Mr. Clarke’s boots being wet; nor did he help Mr. Clarke on with his coat and hat, or open the door for him. Miss St. Jude had practically followed Spinks into the hall, and had at once dismissed him, saying she would look after Mr. Clarke. His lordship in the meanwhile had gone upstairs and Spinks went back into the servants’ hall.

“Of course Miss St. Jude was called. You remember that she had previously stated that Clarke had only left the party at about seven o’clock, that she herself had danced with him most of the time until then, and finally said goodbye to him in the hall. But as this statement was not even corroborated by Clarke’s own assertions and entirely contradicted by both Lord and Lady Foremeere’s evidence, she was fortunately advised not to repeat it on oath. But she hotly denied the suggestion that Clarke had come in from outside when she said goodbye to him in the hall. She saw him put on his hat and coat and they were quite dry. But nobody felt that her evidence was of any value because she would naturally do her utmost to help her sweetheart.

“Finally, one of the most interesting moments in that memorable enquiry was reached when Lady Foremeere was recalled and asked to state what she knew of Miss Clarke’s antecedents.

“‘Very little,’ she replied. ‘I only knew her in France when she worked under me in a hospital. I was very ill at one time and she nursed me devotedly; ever since that I helped her financially as much as I could.’

“‘You made her a weekly allowance?’ her ladyship was asked.

“‘Not exactly,’ she replied. ‘I just bought her eggs and poultry at a higher figure than she would get from any one else.’

“‘Do you know anything about some letters that she thought were so valuable?’

“‘Oh, yes!’ the lady replied with a kindly smile. ‘Mary had a collection of autograph letters which she had collected whilst she was nursing in France. Among them were some by august, and others by very distinguished personages. She had the idea that these were extraordinarily valuable.’

“‘Do you know what became of those letters?’

“‘No,’ her ladyship replied,’ I do not know.’

“‘But there were other letters, were there not?’ the coroner insisted, ‘in which you yourself were interested? The ones Mr. Clarke spoke to you about?’

“‘They existed only in Mr. Clarke’s imagination, I fancy,’ Lady Foremeere replied; ‘but he was in such a highly excited state that afternoon that I really could not quite make out what it was that he desired to sell to me.’

“Lady Foremeere spoke very quietly and very simply, without a single note of spite or acerbity in her soft, musical voice. One felt that she was stating quite simple facts that rather bored her, but to which she did not attach any importance. And later on when Miss Euphemia Clarke retold the story of the packet of letters and of the quarrels which the deceased and her brother had about them, and when the damning evidence of the khaki tunic stood out like an avenging Nemesis pointing at the unfortunate young man, those in court who had imagination saw― positively saw― the hangman’s rope tightening around his neck.