Читать книгу The Green Archer - Edgar Wallace - Страница 18

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"WILFUL murder against some person or persons unknown."

Abe Bellamy read the report of the inquest upon Creager without emotion. It meant no more to him than that the sum of four hundred and eighty pounds a year, which he had paid for many years, would now be saved to his pocket. It had been inconvenient and irritating to answer the interminable questions which the police had put to him regarding his acquaintance with the dead man; but that was all done with.

It is a curious fact that the bizarre character of the man's death did not stir him. Nor did he himself associate the method of killing with the Green Archer. He was constitutionally prejudiced against newspapers, and from the first he looked upon the bringing together of the two circumstances as a stunt invented by journalists. Very likely the man wasn't killed with an arrow at all. He was probably stabbed by some old lag who had a grudge against him; and if it was an arrow, then the murderer must have got his idea for a weapon out of the newspapers.

One thing he had noticed—and this had nothing whatever to do with the murder—was the gloom of his secretary. He attributed this wrongly to the revelation he had made that he knew Julius and his past, and, believing this, was content to keep him in his employ. The presence of the new tenants of Lady's Manor caused him a little annoyance. They seemed in some indefinable way to encroach upon his majesty, though he did not exactly put the thought into those words. Who they were he neither knew nor cared. Except to Julius he never discussed outside matters, and his servants did not address him unless he spoke to them, and he never spoke except to complain.

A few days after the dismissal of Wilks he had occasion to snap at the new butler.

"Young fellow, I want you to understand that I don't wish you to come to any room where I am, unless I send for you. You were knocking at the door of the library last night, though Mr. Savini told you that I was not to be disturbed."

"I'm very sorry, sir," said the butler deferentially. "The ways of the castle are strange to me as yet, but I will not offend again."

The new butler's arrival seemed to have had the effect of depressing Julius Savini even further. At any rate, there was a marked change in his demeanour from the day the new man arrived. He was less "chatty," less buoyant. Abe found him wandering in the grounds one afternoon in a state of complete dejection.

"What's the matter with you, Savini?" he snarled. "If there's any grouching to be done in this place, I'll do it. Spruce up and get a little more zip into your system. What is the matter, anyway? Have the police found you out?"

"No, sir," said Julius. "I'm not feeling very well."

"Then find another job," growled the old man. "I'm not running a sanatorium."

This admonition had the effect of producing a spurious liveliness in the Eurasian, which had its sequel in the old man cursing him heartily.

More than a fortnight had passed since the last appearance of the Green Archer, and Bellamy had no difficulty in finding an explanation.

"There's something about a police dog that a ghost doesn't like," he said. "Or maybe there's something about a ghost that naturally riles a police dog."

That night he was awakened from his sleep by the deep growl of one of the hounds, and, jumping out of bed, he came into the corridor. The lights were all on, as he had ordered, and one of the dogs stood stiffly in the center of the passage, facing the broad stone stairway which led to the hall below. The old man whistled, and the dog turned and walked slowly toward him, stopping to look back from time to time. Presently he was joined by his companion, who came bounding up the stairs at the sound of the whistle.

"What's wrong with ye, eh?"

Abe went back into his room, put on his dressing-gown, and slipped a gun into his pocket. Then, followed by the dogs, he descended to the hall. He saw nothing that was in any degree suspicious. Unlocking the library door, he walked in, switched on the lights, and made a search of the room without result. The big, heavy entrance-door was locked and barred.

Satisfied, he went upstairs again to his room. He had scarcely dozed off when again came the deep-throated growl, and this time from both dogs. He found them where he had seen them before. They stood, rigidly pointing toward the main staircase, and this time when he whistled them one looked round but did not move. He called them sharply, and they came to him.

"What's the matter with you, you fool?"

A deep growl was the reply. Suddenly, as though they had seen something, they lashed round together and flew like the wind along the corridor, with Abe in pursuit.

Suddenly, as though they had seen something,

they lashed round together and flew like the

wind along the corridor, with Abe in pursuit.

He found them in the hall, nosing the floor, and this time he turned on all the lights in the hall and made a search, but again without result.

"You dogs are nutty," he grumbled.

They were uneasy. Probably dogs had spells like these, he thought, and went to bed. As he was dozing off he heard them growl again, but took no further notice and went to sleep.

It was five o'clock when he awoke, and it was still dark. He got up and pulled on his dressing-gown before he illuminated the room. And then his eyes opened wider. The door was wide open, the outer door unlocked, and he was certain that he had closed and fastened them when he came to bed for the last time. What had the dogs been doing?

He went into the corridor to discover. At first he thought they were dead, but they were lying, one behind the other, against the wall, their legs outstretched. He shook one, and the dog opened his eyes, looked at him stupidly for a second or two, and closed them again.

Doped! thought the old man. So there had been something hidden all the time; but it was something human. The Green Archer was flesh and blood; he had never thought anything else.

The dogs recovered in half an hour and seemed none the worse for their misadventure. He himself took them down to the kennels.

Why had the Green Archer come? What had been his object? It was not for the sake of demonstrating his ability to come in and out of the room at his will that he had taken the risk attendant upon drugging the dogs. What had he been seeking? The bedroom contained few valuables, and what there were had been left intact. Robbery was not, obviously, the explanation for these visits. It was equally certain that the Green Archer was no practical joker, but had a very serious purpose.

Suddenly the explanation flashed on the old man. The Green Archer was seeking the key—the key that never left him by day and that was beneath his pillow by night. He carried it in his pocket at the end of a long steel chain. The first thing he did in the morning was to take it out and loop the chain about his neck when he went to his bath. The last thing he did at night was to return the key to his pillow.

It was a curious instrument—very long and very narrow and thin. The key! That was the explanation. And if it was that, then the Green Archer knew the secret of Garre Castle!

He almost ran into the library and slammed the door behind him. Savini, hearing the sound half awake, dreamt that the old man had shot himself, and smiled in his sleep.