Читать книгу The Green Archer - Edgar Wallace - Страница 13
ОглавлениеThe Habits of Abe Bellamy
A clear, frosty morning found Mr. Bellamy walking slowly across the meadows toward the lodge. He was a man who had the extraordinary knack of adjusting his requirements of sleep to circumstances. He could sleep twelve hours at a stretch; he could rise as fresh with two. He was making the journey to the lodge because it was one of his rules never to see strangers at the castle. People with whom he had an appointment got interviewed in a big room set apart for the purpose at the lodge gates.
The sour-faced keeper touched his hat as the Chicago man went into the lodge to find the local policeman waiting patiently.
"Good morning, sir. They tell me there's been some trouble up at the castle."
Bellamy bared his teeth.
"Tell me who told you that, and he'll tell nothing else!" he said unpleasantly.
He pulled his hand out of his pocket and threw the note it held upon the table.
"There's a little present for you, officer," he said, "and you can forget about any trouble at the castle. What happened was, I had a bad dream and shot at a shadow. Thought it was a burglar."
"Very good, sir," said the obliging officer of the law. "I haven't reported this to my chief."
"Well, don't," said the other. "Now see here, officer. I guess there's little that happens in this village that you don't know. Have you had any strangers here lately?"
The gratified officer lifted his chin and screwed up his face in a grimace of profound thought.
"Yes, sir, there has been one or two. There was a lady who came down to see over Lady's Manor."
"Lady's Manor?" said Bellamy quickly. "Is that the old house on the road?"
"That's it," said the officer. "It belongs to Lord Tetherton and it is a tumbledown sort of place which would cost a lot of money to put in repair; which is one of the reasons it has never let. Some parts of it are as old as the castle."
"When did she come to Garre?" asked Bellamy keenly.
"Two days ago. Quite a nice lady, remarkably pretty. I caught sight of her just as she was driving away."
"Do you know where she came from?"
"London, I understand, sir. The car had a London indicator on it, and I think she travelled by way of Reading. The woman who keeps the keys of Lady's Manor said she came from Solders, the house agents. They've got the property in hand."
"Was she alone?"
"Yes, sir. I saw nobody with her."
Bellamy went out of the room to the lodgekeeper's sitting-room, where a telephone had been installed. In a minute he was talking to the house agent.
The agent remembered the circumstances perfectly. The lady had come from London, and he had given her an order to view the property. No, he hadn't asked her her name; it was not customary to take particulars of possible clients.
"If she writes to you or comes to you again, I want to know all about her," said Mr. Bellamy, and hung up the receiver.
With the coming of daylight a very close inspection of the store-room had been made. He hoped to find a trail of blood which would bring him nearer to the solution of this mysterious appearance. But apparently the handkerchief had been used only too well. There was no stain visible. He sent Savini to Guildford to make closer inquiries.
He was content for the moment to overlook the unwarrantable intrusion of his secretary into his private affairs. That could wait.
Julius was only too glad to get away. He wanted to satisfy himself on one point, and, his business finished at Guildford, he hurried to London and made straight for the Carlton Hotel.
"No, I don't think so," said the clerk. "I haven't seen Miss Howett all the morning. I'll ring up to her room and find out. Do you want to see her?"
Julius hesitated a moment.
"Yes," he said.
He had decided upon a bold and dangerous move. He waited whilst the clerk 'phoned, and his eyes lit up as he followed the drift of the conversation.
"Sorry, Mr. Savini," said the man, hanging up the receiver. "You won't be able to see Miss Howett. She hurt her foot last night getting out of a cab and she's in the hands of the doctor. That's what her maid says. I remember now that I haven't seen Miss Howett since yesterday afternoon."
Julius was mystified as he came out of the hotel. That "sprained ankle" meant "gunshot wound." But what was she doing at Garre? What object had the daughter of the rich Mr. Howett in masquerading as a green archer? His theory was a fantastic one, built on the identity of Valerie Howett's initials with those on the handkerchief—that and the coincidence of the girl's sprained ankle. There were hundreds of women with the same initials. Still, it was strange.
If there was one person in the world whom Julius did not want to meet that day it was Spike Holland. Yet he had not taken a dozen steps from the door of the hotel when the reporter pounced on him. Hate in the weak is the child of fear, and, intensely as he loathed the man he served, and who never passed a day without heaping insults upon him, he was at the same time terrified of his wrath.
"I can't stop, Holland. I only came up . . . If you see the old man, for Heaven's sake don't say you saw me in London! I'm supposed to be in Guildford."
"He had a visitation last night?" said Spike.
"I swear to you——" began Julius.
"Aw! Come off it! What's the use of pulling that stuff? We've got a man planted in the village; put him there last night. He's just 'phoned us to say that the Green Archer showed up last night, and old man Bellamy loosed off his automatic and shot the eye out of a Gainsborough!"
"It's not true!" said Julius violently. "If this gets into the paper and the old man knows I've seen you—— Listen, Holland. I'll do anything for you. I'll tell you the whole story if you'll keep me out of it."
"Would I ever put you away?" asked Spike, shaking his red head reproachfully. "Come across, Julius. Let's hear it."
"Well I don't exactly know what's happened," began Julius, and the other waited.
"That's a darned fine start for a piece of authoritative information! Still, get to the story."
Julius told him faithfully what had happened, interlarding almost every sentence with a passionate plea for secrecy. He had all the Eurasian's characteristics, and combined an almost reckless disregard for consequences with a craven fear that at times was pitiable. He could harbour dark and sinister plots against Abe Bellamy, the execution of which might bring punishment he dared not think upon; and yet he literally trembled at the bull-roar of him and grovelled before his anger.
"Tell me what Bellamy does at the castle, what sort of life he lives. Does he entertain?"
"Entertain!" said the other scornfully. "There hasn't been a stranger at Garre since I've been there. He wanders round the estate, or else he spends his time fooling about the walls. His evenings he passes in the library by himself. Nobody interrupts him; as a matter of fact, you can't, because he keeps the door locked. From nine to eleven are his hours at night, and sometimes for an hour in the morning."
"And he always locks the door?" asked the interested Spike.
"Both doors; there's one at each end. But for the love of Mike——"
"Have no fear, dear heart," said Spike. "Can you tell me anything more about him?"
Julius, who had already told too much, licked his dry lips and looked round as though seeking a method of escape.
"That's about all," he said. "And you'll swear to me, Holland, that you'll not give me away?"
"Where does he dine?"
"In the library as a rule. The dining-room is very seldom used. And now I must go, Holland." And before Spike could stop him he had flown.
On the way back to Guildford, inwardly quaking, Julius recalled the incidents of the talk, beads of perspiration standing on his forehead as he realised the appalling character of his indiscretion. He had not told about the handkerchief, he was happy to remember, and really that was the best story of all.
He found his employer in a fairly pleasant mood. He asked no inconvenient questions as to the reason for his secretary's long absence, and, much to Savini's relief, he himself suggested that the story was certain to get into the newspapers.
"You can't stop these chicken-hearted people from squealing," he said. "Half the servants have given me notice. And even that fat hog Wilks talks about going. I've told him, if he leaves before I'm ready for him to go, I'll sue him for breach of contract. Savini, see that all the lamps in the corridors are left alight tonight."
"Do you expect another visit?" asked Julius conversationally, and received a curse for his pains.
By daylight Bellamy had examined the doors of his room. The old-fashioned outer door could, he found, be unlocked with no difficulty at all by a man equipped with the necessary tools. The leather door, with its interior latch, seemed safe enough, and he was puzzled to account for its forcing. With a magnifying-glass he examined the leather surface carefully, thinking that he would detect some injury to the leather; but there was none. Fixed in the framework of the door, and designed to prevent the catch from rising too high, was a short iron rod, the end of which showed on the outer side. He thought at first that this might have been extracted and the latch lifted that way, but found that it was impossible. There was no transom above the door, and though Abe went over the walls of the bedroom carefully and made a thorough inspection of the ceiling, he could see nothing that would explain the mystery of that slowly opening inner door. That night he slept with his automatic on a table by the side of his bed. He woke at five o'clock in the morning to find both doors wide open and his pistol gone!
