Читать книгу Jonah's Luck - Fergus Hume - Страница 6

"Sir Simon Tedder!" Inspector Trent--as the red-faced official was called--relaxed his stiffness, so far as to display astonishment. "The millionaire, who made his fortune out of jam and pickles; who has a house at Tarhaven?"

"Yes!" faltered Herries weakly, and sinking into a chair near the door, he covered his shameful face. Trent, seeing tears trickling between the nerveless fingers, felt convinced, with the assurance of the shortsighted, that his experiment had proved successful. The guilty man's self-control had given way at the sight of his victim. So thought a jack-in-office, who was unable to see farther than his nose by reason of natural and official limitations. But the truth was--and a medical man would have surmised it--that Herries, with his long tramp, his weakened frame, his despairing outlook, and the surprising sight of his relative lying dead by violence, suddenly became as unstrung as an hysterical woman. The tears relieved him, and had they not broken forth, he would have become insane at the mere thought of this terrible disaster falling upon him, after years and years of cruel misfortune. He felt, and very naturally, like a tormented rat in a trap, and could see no means of escape.

"Sir Simon Tedder," repeated Trent, with a gratified glance at the still white face of the dead, "the millionaire," he rolled the agreeable word on his tongue. "This will be an important affair!" and throwing out his chest, he swelled with triumph at the thought of the fame and praise which so notorious a case would bring him. "Why did you kill him, young man?"

Herries, ashamed of the momentary weakness, dropped his hands and dashed the moisture from his eyes.

"I--did--not--kill--him!" he declared with emphatic slowness.

Trent grew red and indignant at what he conceived to be a shameless denial.

"I have heard the landlord's story," he retorted, pompously.

"And have therefore made up your mind, without hearing the other side, that I am guilty," said Herries, bitterly. "Is it the custom of the English law to hear only the accuser?"

"I am now prepared to listen to the defence," announced Trent, hastily, and in spite of the strong evidence, and his own belief, he felt sorry for the wreck before him, although red-tapeism condemned the too purely human feeling.

Leaving a stolid policeman to guard the door of the death-chamber, pending the arrival of the doctor, Trent led his prisoner down the stairs, and into the stuffy back-parlour, which Sir Simon had occupied on the previous evening. Mrs. Narby glared at the unfortunate man, whom she accused of having ruined her inn, and Pope's weak, silly face, alive with morbid curiosity, could be seen over the brawny maternal shoulder. Herries shuddered. In spite of many misfortunes, he had always been popular in his Bohemian world, and it was both new and unpleasant for him to see venomous looks cast upon him. Last night he had been merely an object of contemptuous interest; now he was like a tiger prisoned behind bars, at which everyone looked with dread and hatred.

As the short autumnal evening, rendered even more immediate by the still prevailing foes, was rapidly closing in, Trent lighted the cheap lamp which swung over the round table. The light and the oily smell came simultaneously, as both door and window were closed, and the room was crowded with frowsy furniture. The atmosphere was sickly and malodorous, and Herries never entered a stuffy apartment in after years without recalling that hopeless evening, when his misfortunes culminated in nothing less than a Waterloo.

The Inspector seated himself at the round table in a magisterial manner, and produced a portentous pocket-book. He permitted Herries to sit down in an antique arm-chair, slippery with horse-hair, and marvellously uncomfortable with an antimacassar of Berlin wool-work. Having moistened a pencil with his tongue he proceeded to ask what questions occurred to his not over-clever brain.

"What is your name?"

"Angus Herries."

"Your occupation?"

"I am a doctor, a ship's doctor, and I came last night from Pierside, where the Arctic sealer 'Nansen' is lying."

"Why did you come to this almost unknown inn?"

"I walked from Pierside, intending to seek a friend at Tarhaven. My strength gave way, and I stayed here to eat and sleep."

Trent took down these answers thoughtfully, then looked in what he fondly thought was a piercing manner at the suspected man.

"You told me that you did not know the deceased?"

"I did. That is perfectly true. Until you showed me the corpse, I was quite ignorant that Sir Simon had been killed. I did not even know that he was in this house."

"You knew Sir Simon Tedder then?"

"Yes!" Herries hesitated, then looked boldly at the officer, "I have nothing to conceal," he declared loudly, "Sir Simon is my uncle."

Trent looked at the shabby prisoner with great surprise; the reply amazed him, as coming from such a tramp.

"It is impossible," he said, sharply. "Sir Simon was wealthy and much respected. He would not allow his nephew to go about in rags."

Herries looked sullen.

"My uncle and I quarrelled."

"Oh," said the Inspector in a peculiar tone.

"Do you take that admission as a sign of guilt?" inquired Herries, ironically.

"I take it to mean that you had bad feelings towards the deceased."

The prisoner shook his head.

"You are wrong, I had no bad feelings."

"And yet you quarrelled?"

"Violently!"

"Take care. What you say may be used against--" Herries rose with an angry gesture.

"An innocent man such as I am does not need to be careful of his words," he cried. "My life history is miserable enough certainly, but there is no page of which I need be ashamed."

"For an educated man to be in such a plight--."

The prisoner again interrupted.

"Do you know what Jonah's Luck is?

"I know that the person you mention was swallowed by a whale," said Trent with dignity. "I am not entirely a heathen."

In spite of his misery Herries could not help smiling.

"I give you the whale," he said sarcastically. "In spite of my sojourn in the Arctic regions, I have escaped the gullet of that animal. I allude to the prophet's luck. Everything went wrong with him, as it has done with me. Do you know what it is, Inspector, to be unlucky--to try your hardest to earn bread and a roof in the face of circumstances too hard to conquer? Have you ever found doors shut against you? Has your family ever regarded you as a hopeless black sheep, because you had not the money to wash your wool white? I have been hungry, starving, almost without clothes, certainly without fire on freezing days. Life has crushed me into the mire, and every struggle I made to rise, was met with a fresh blow."

"Such miseries as these," said Dogberry, sapiently, "lead men to commit crimes."

"In my case, no," cried Herries, striking the table heavily. "I can look any man in the face, as I look into yours now, and can say that I am honest, in thought, word, and deed."

His clear blue eyes looked into those of the Inspector, and it was the official who first gave way. Turning over the leaves of his pocket-book, to disguise the impression which Herries' frankness had made on him, he took refuge in irritation, a sure sign that he had no feasible reply to make.

"This isn't what we are here to talk about," he said testily. "I wish to know what defence you have to make, to the charge brought against you by the landlord?"

"What defence?--that I am innocent."

"On what grounds?"

"On the grounds that I never expected to find Sir Simon here, that I did not know he was in the house, that I have no grudge against him."

"How do I know that?" asked Trent, cunningly.

"Because I tell you that such is the case," said Herries haughtily, "and if you will listen to a short account of my life, you may be able to conquer the prejudice against me, which the couple who keep this miserable inn have instilled into your breast."

"I am not prejudiced," snapped Trent, nettled, "say what you have to say, and let us end this business as speedily as possible."

"I am only too anxious to do so," said Herries coldly and folding his arms, still standing. "I am the son of Sir Simon Tedder's only sister. He was a hard man, always, and when she married against his will, he would never help her. My mother and father both died when I was in my teens. They left enough money for me to gain an education and secure a doctor's degree. I practised on shore with bad success, and so went to sea. I have been away from England for about two years, and since then I have never set eyes on my uncle, until you showed me his corpse just now."

"When did you see him last?"

"Two years ago. I was doing badly, and called upon him to learn if he would help me. He might have done so, but that I was in love with his daughter, Maud. I had met her at the house of some friends in Edinburgh, and saw her frequently. We loved, and when I saw my uncle I told him this. He became angry, and turned me out of the house. By his order Maud sent back my letters, and since then I have had nothing to do with either of them. Why then, I ask you, should I kill my uncle, seeing that I cannot benefit in any way by such a crime? I landed here two days ago, unknown and friendless. As I said, I was on my way to Tarhaven, to see a friend, when I put up at this accursed inn last night."

"Who is your friend?"

"Dr. James Browne of Elgar Avenue, Tarhaven. We were fellow students."

"I know him," said the Inspector, taking down the name. "Can he vouch for your respectability?"

Herries smiled bitterly.

"Respectability and myself parted company long ago," said he with a shrug, "but Browne knows all that I am telling you now, even to the courting of my cousin Maud."

"What did he think of your quarrelling with your uncle?"

"He approved of my leaving the house. As to the quarrel, Browne knows that I have a fiery temper."

"Oh," interrupted Trent in his peculiar tone, and thinking that he had chanced upon something suspicious. "So you have a fiery temper?"

"Yes," admitted Herries, not dreaming of what such an admission might mean to him. "But only when it is aroused by injustice and insults. Last night it was not so roused. I went to bed shortly before eight o'clock, ignorant, as I have said several times, that my uncle was in the house. Had I known that, I would have gone on to Tarhaven, weary though I was, rather than have slept under the same roof with a man who insulted my mother and myself shamefully."

Trent shook his head.

"All very fine. But the key of Sir Simon's room was found on the floor of your bedroom. The razor, with which his throat was cut, was in your possession, and there is blood on the sleeve of your shirt."

The young man hastily stripped off his coat, and held the right hand sleeve of his shirt under the lamp, close to Trent's eyes.

"There are the smears," he said quietly, "and you will see that they are made by fingers dipped in blood having been drawn down the sleeve. Could I have done that myself? Also, when I found the razor on my quilt when I awoke, I called up the landlord to ask him what it meant. I knew nothing of the crime at the time, neither did Narby, as he will tell you. Were I guilty, would I have acted in so foolish a manner?"

"Oh yes, you would," said Trent, dictatorially, "criminals are very artful, as I have often found."

It was apparently impossible to convince a man so bent upon finding proofs of guilt where none existed, so Herries abandoned persuasion and turned away with a shrug.

"I have nothing more to say!"

"Yes, you have," insisted Trent, stupidly. "Why did you conceal that Sir Simon expected you last night?"

"He did not. He never knew that I was here, or even in England, as we had not corresponded since he turned me out of his house at Tarhaven two years ago. The maid Elspeth said that Sir Simon expected a gentleman. I was not the man."

"You were the only stranger who came last night," said Trent digging his pencil thoughtfully into the book.

"No. The expected visitor must have come last night, and have slept here. Mr. Narby will tell you that Mrs. Narby saw him pass through the tap-room at eight this morning."

"Did he not stop to pay the bill?"

"Mrs. Narby thought that the man was Sir Simon." The Inspector rose quickly.

"What?" he asked in an amazed tone.

"I am only telling you what Narby told me, before either of us knew that a murder had taken place," said Herries tartly. "He declared that his wife had seen the gentleman, who occupied this parlour last night,--and he was Sir Simon, as we know--pass through the tap-room at eight as he had arranged."