Читать книгу The Yellow Hunchback - Fergus Hume - Страница 9

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There was a dramatic pause, and every one eyed the knife as though it was a serpent. Alice, still fearful lest her father should know too much, leant forward to see it plainly. The weapon was very strange, and very dangerous—just the kind which would inflict the cruel wound which had killed the poor dwarf. A long, thin blade of shining steel; it had a queerly carved handle of white wood, on which meandered strange grotesque signs. These were filled in with pigments, red and blue and yellow and black, so that the whole handle was covered with a nightmare pattern. While every one stared, Miss Tudor-Stuart flourished her arms theatrically, and acted the part of show-woman.

“Granny Rayner,” she said, in her deep, harsh voice, “is Ruth’s grandmother, and lives in Chadston, where she is known locally as Mrs. Brandyface, from a partiality for the bottle. She gets her living by begging and picking up what she can get, and went out on Monday night—when the crime was committed—to see if she could get anything from people leaving the Animated Picture Show. She didn’t have much luck, but went home with enough to get her some drink. She went down the High Street, that being on the way to her home.”

“At what time?” asked the lawyer, who was listening intently.

“At a quarter past ten,” said Miss Tudor-Stuart. “Oh! I know how to ask questions, when there’s money in the case.”

“Why didn’t this old woman come forward, Mrs.—Mrs.—”

“Rayner, better known as Mrs. Brandyface,” said the Amazon. “She didn’t come forward because she fears the police. She saw the body in the snow, and the knife was lying near it. But she was afraid, lest she should be accused, and so took the knife home. Ruth found it in her grandmother’s bed. There’s blood on the handle, and on the blade, which is rusty,” said Miss Tudor-Stuart, with relish. “Oh, Evan Berrow was killed with that knife, sure enough.”

“It looks like a foreign knife,” said Alice musingly.

“African,” said the Amazon, who seemed determined that no one but herself should speak. “Here’s a native face carved on the handle, and a serpent, which is an African beast, and a—”

“Perhaps it’s a sacrificial knife,” said the lawyer, suddenly, and recoiling with repugnance from the uncanny weapon. “I have seen knives like that which came from the Gold Coast, and which were used in Voodoo worship.”

“Then this comes from the Gold Coast also,” said Miss Tudor-Stuart, clapping her huge hands. “Find the man who brought it, and you find the murderer. I’ll take the five hundred in gold,” she ended, with an air of satisfaction.

“You go too fast,” said Mrs. Berrow, coldly. “We do not yet know how this knife from Africa—if it is from Africa—came to be in the High Street.”

“It was brought by the murderer.”

“But who would come from Africa to kill poor Evan?”

“That’s what we have to find out,” said Clyde, shaking his head, “and a very difficult thing it will be to do. I’ll take this”—he laid his hands with some shrinking on the knife—“to the police.”

Mrs. Berrow started up and winced. “No!”

“Yes! Yes!!” cried Miss Tudor-Stuart. “I want the money.”

Mrs. Berrow took no notice of the interruption, but went on addressing Clyde. “Don’t do anything rash,” she said, vehemently, and Alice Marvel was puzzled to see how moved she was. “Keep the knife beside you until we know the truth.”

“The police will find it better than we should.”

“No, I tell you no. Miss Marvel,” she turned to Alice, “do you not think it will be better to keep this discovery secret until we learn more?”

Alice was amazed at this appeal. “Really,” she stammered, “it is difficult to say. I can offer no advice.”

“You’ll be sorry that you said that,” panted Mrs. Berrow. “Mr. Clyde, I beg of you not to show this to the police yet.”

“Ha!” said Miss Tudor-Stuart, suddenly, and pointing a large finger at the widow. “Are you guilty?”

“You fool!” Mrs. Berrow turned on the giantess with a snarl. “Were I guilty I should keep silence! Don’t speak a word,” she made a quick gesture, “but leave the room.”

“I shan’t.”

“Then I’ll not pay you the reward.”

Miss Tudor-Stuart quailed, strong woman as she was. The aim of her visit was to get money, and she did not care to offend the person who could give it to her. The will gave everything to Mrs. Berrow, therefore, Mrs. Berrow was the person to conciliate. The Amazon was a coarse, vulgar bully, but she knew how to play the slave as well as the tyrant. “Very well, ma’am,” she said, submissively, and rose to go. “Ben, Ruth, this isn’t any place for us. Come along, my dears. We will be found at Mrs. Brandyface’s flat in 6, Tooker’s Alley,” she ended, turning fawningly to Mrs. Berrow; and then reassuming the tyrant, turned to drive out the dwarf and the red-haired girl.

“One moment,” said Clyde, stopping the girl, who had been so silent and observant. “Who does your grandmother say she saw when she picked up the knife? Was any one near—did she catch sight of any person, man or woman, leaving the spot, and———”

The girl shook her head, touched her mouth, and then crossed her slim hands on her breast. Unable to interpret this pantomime, Clyde looked at her in astonishment. Miss Tudor-Stuart came striding back, and laid her big hand on the slender shoulder of Ruth. “She’s a dumby,” said the Amazon.

“Dumb!” cried Alice, with a look of pity. “Oh, poor thing!”

“Not at all, miss. Ruth’s deafness and dumbness gets her many a penny when people with their rightful organs would starve.”

“Don’t be horrible,” said Mrs. Berrow.

“Certainly not, my lady,” said Miss Tudor-Stuart, meekly, but the flash in her eyes showed that, but for the money, she would be as insolent as she knew how. “Ben! Ruth! Don’t forget, my lady, that we stop at Mrs. Brandyface’s flat, 6, Tooker’s Alley, Chadston. I have the organ with me. Ruth works the music, and I dance like a fairy; so we intend to see what we can do in this suburb. Ben meanwhile can sweep the station crossing, which is a good pitch, and is going begging. Why, I don’t know, as there’s money in it. But there,” Miss Tudor-Stuart again became scornful, “these suburban people don’t know what’s good.”

“I’ll come and see you at 6, Tooker’s Alley,” said Clyde, as she drove the dwarf and the girl towards the door.

“And you’ll take the knife to the police, sir?”

“No,” said Clyde, hesitatingly. “I’ll keep it for a time. And you had better hold your tongue about it till I speak.”

“Of course,” said the Amazon. “I don’t care about talking to the police. Low fellows, who don’t know how to take a real lady to gaol!”

“Go away—go away—and don’t dare to come here again,” said Mrs. Berrow, vehemently.

“I’ll come for the five hundred,” said Miss Tudor-Stuart, again becoming her old self. “And if I don’t get it—” She shook a gigantic fist in the air, and pushed Ben and Ruth through the door. As suddenly as they had entered, so suddenly did they disappear, and the company left behind them might have thought the whole appearance of the trio a grotesque nightmare but for the undeniable presence of the cruel, barbaric knife. Captain Tait twirled his moustache, and turned to Polly.

“This will be a pleasant story for young Smith, my dear.”

Polly nodded. “Teddy will make a splendid article out of it.”

“Mr. Smith will do nothing of the sort,” broke in Mrs. Berrow, angrily. “If you want to stop on as my companion, Miss Tait, you had better hold your tongue. I can rely on the gentlemanly instinct of Captain Tait,” and she bowed graciously.

The Captain looked puzzled. Mrs. Berrow was not usually so gracious to him, and with the instinct of an old warrior he scented danger. However, he made no promise, but held his peace, thinking that silence was the best policy under such perplexing circumstances.

Alice rose to go, as did the Captain and his daughter. But Clyde, who had been thinking, made a sign that they should stay. “On the whole,” he said, heavily, “and after reflection, I agree with Mrs. Berrow that it will be best to suppress our knowledge of this discovery for the present. Should we warn the police, and hand over the knife, the police will be sure to blunder, and then the assassin may get away. Silence on our parts may make him careless, and he may thus betray himself. What do you think?”

“I agree with you,” chimed in Mrs. Berrow, eagerly, seemingly forgetting that he was simply placing her thoughts in other words. Alice glanced sideways at her, and wondered why she was so anxious to conceal this vital piece of evidence, which would undoubtedly go far to indicate the assassin of her step-son. Again she recalled Evan’s plain speaking regarding his step-mother’s desire for his death, so that she might enjoy the money. Could it be possible that Mrs. Berrow knew the truth, and was trying to screen the murderer? If so, who was the person she was screening? The thought, however, was so monstrous that Alice hastily rejected it. It seemed incredible that the smooth-faced, smiling, pretty woman could consent to so evil a crime. Moreover, Alice yet lingeringly thought—on the evidence of the spectacles which were never left at the office—that her father had something to do with the matter. The mere thought made her shudder, but she forced down the momentary feeling, and assented, as did Captain Tait and Polly, to Clyde’s suggestion. When the party separated it was fully agreed that no mention of the knife was to be made.

For some distance the ways of Tait and Alice were the same. Polly, of course, was left behind, as she still continued to live with Mrs. Berrow, and by a new arrangement had been transformed from the secretary of the dead man into the companion of the widow. Tait walked along, slim and well got up, extremely smart, and looking considerably younger than his years. He did not seem to be in a good temper, and replied shortly to Miss Marvel’s speeches. After a time, however, his face cleared, and he spoke his thoughts aloud. “By gad! I’ll marry her,” said the Captain, determinedly.

“Marry who?” asked Alice, wondering at the unexpectedness of the remark. “Of whom are you talking, Captain Tait?”

“Humph!” said Tait, somewhat disconcerted. “I didn’t know that I spoke aloud. Why, of Mrs. Berrow, of course. I don’t mind speaking plainly to you, Alice, as I have known you ever since you were a child, and a very pretty child you were, by George! I talk of Mrs. Berrow. She is rich, and possesses the ancestral home of my family. I don’t see why I shouldn’t marry her.”

“You?”

“Well,” cried the Captain, offended. “I may be older than she is, but I don’t look my years, hang them! I’d make her a good husband.”

Alice had her own opinion on this score, as she had heard from Polly of the Captain’s married life. Also she knew he was selfish and vain, and quite unlikely to make any woman happy. Even the least exacting woman would have found it difficult to live in peace with such a slave-driver as Captain Tait.

“You can but ask her,” was all she could find to say.

“I shall ask her,” said Tait. “And between you and me, I have asked her. Yes! I knew she would get this money, so this morning, immediately before the funeral, I said that I should like to make her Mrs. Tait.”

“And her answer?”

“She said that if I found out who killed Evan she would consider the matter. You see, she doesn’t say yes; on the other hand, she certainly doesn’t say no. If that stupid Evan had only made me a decent recompense for the wrongdoing of his father I should not have bothered any more about the matter, as I am quite content to be a bachelor. But now that nothing is left to me, I shall see if I can’t fulfil Mrs. Berrow’s condition, and marry her. She has at least ten thousand a year, and I have as many pence.”

“How will you set about fulfilling the condition?”

“Humph! I can’t say yet. I never tried any detective business, and to hunt down this very clever assassin is no easy job. Certainly, the discovery of the knife by that awful female makes things easier. You see, the man who owns such a weapon must certainly have brought it from foreign parts. Now, that knife is certainly a fetish knife, such as is used to kill the victims of Obi. I’ll start from that point. If I can find any one who came from America or Africa, or the West Indies, I’ll see if I can fix the blame on him. By Jove!” grumbled the Captain, swaggering off after touching his hat to Alice, “it’s uncommon hard at my age to satisfy a woman’s whims. But if I want to marry the ten thousand a year I must. Wait till Mrs. Berrow is Mrs. Tait,” and with this ominous threat Tait walked away briskly, the ideal of a selfish man.

Alice stood where she was, at the corner of the street leading to her father’s villa. It was growing dusk, and the snow glimmered in a spectral manner. All at once it occurred to her that Rupert had come from the West Indies—from Jamaica. He had met Evan; he did not like Evan, and to be plain, was jealous of Evan. What if, in a fit of rage, he had— “But it is impossible,” she said aloud, and turned to go home.

A figure rose suddenly beside her. It was the yellow hunchback, who had approached noiselessly in the snow. He pointed a weird finger at her, and croaked out slowly: “You want to know who killed Evan Berrow. It was your lover, Rupert Treffry!”