Читать книгу Blackmail! - Fred M. White - Страница 7

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No alteration had taken place whatever at Broadwater pending the funeral of Sir George, beyond the addition of Mrs. Sinclair, the late baronet's widowed sister—a mighty traveller, who had published books about all kinds of dangerous and unpleasant places. Usually Lucy Sinclair lived alone; but she was fond of Lyn, and, under the circumstances, Lyn was only too glad to have this friend and chaperon in the house.

"Why does that loathsome little beast stay here?" she asked, apropos of Stott.

Lyn smiled at the ingenuous language. Mrs. Sinclair was small and slight, with grey hair, and the sweetest and most amiable of faces. But her tongue was quick and ingenuous, and she boasted that she could use a revolver as well as most men.

"I'm afraid we can't get rid of him," Lyn remarked.

"Nonsense. Kick him our of the house. Pelt him with his own empty brandy bottles."

Lyn proceeded to explain—to Mrs. Sinclair's boundless indignation. But her anger did not blind her shrewd common-sense, and she was fain to own that she saw no way out of the difficulty. And she was by no means insensible to the state of affairs between Lyn and Lancelot.

"Well, there's plenty of time," she said, thoughtfully. "What we have to do now is to investigate the tragedy that darkened your father's life. There is something behind that to come out. But Stott is a grievous burden to bear, and I let him see it."

If Stott saw it he made no sign. But there were moments when those weak-looking blue eyes flashed, and the round doll face flushed with anger. Otherwise Stott seemed to take his new honors meekly enough. He had good quarters, and money to spend. But the man was the rankest coward at heart, and doubtless feared that any show of authority might perhaps end in his violent and painful expulsion from Broadwater.

"It is no fault of mine that I am placed in this invidious position," he bleated to Lance. "I have had it thrust upon me. A most extraordinary and unexpected thing! Old and broken-down as I am, the money is necessary to me. But I shall not be in the way, not the least in the way. A private room, and the mere suggestion of brandy when the pains come on—"

He looked meekly at Lance's lowering face. At any rate, there was no provision that the fellow should stay at Broadwater. Lance would make that pretty clear directly the funeral was over. Till then no steps could be taken. The adjourned inquest was to-morrow, and the funeral fixed for the same afternoon. After that it would be made pretty clear that Stott's room would be preferable to his company.

This further inquest was troubling Lance. It seemed to him that the thing might have been settled at the first hearing, only Burlinson stood in the way. And that certainly was a startling discovery of his over the chloroform. Also it struck Lance as curious that the doctor had said nothing on that head at the inquest. What did it mean?

But for the written confession of suicide it might have meant a good deal. But in the face of that letter it seemed to be robbed of all its significance. Nobody could possibly doubt the genuineness of that letter on Sir George's private notepaper. True, he had no reason whatever to take his life, but then men had done the same surprising thing before, even when they had not a trouble in the world.

The chloroform affair must have been a mere coincidence. Perhaps Sir George had made up his mind to take his life that way and had discarded it at the last moment. Or perhaps he had knocked the bottle over by accident and had had no more in the house. There was no reason why he should hide the bottle, but going on the theory that all would-be suicides are lunatics, the secrecy on that head was easily explained. No doubt Burlinson was building up some ingenious theory, but that letter must of necessity bring the whole flimsy fabric to the ground.

The adjourned inquest looked like being merely a formal affair. A few curious people had gathered in the billiard-room where the inquiry was to be held, the villagers and neighbors staying away out of compliment to the late owner of Broadwater. A few reporters had come, more as a matter of duty than anything else. So far as they could see, the whole affair was explained—in so formal a matter there would be very little of public interest to be gained.

The Coroner and witnesses went over the old lines again. Long proved beyond doubt that on the night of his master's death the windows and shutters were all fastened. He could further testify that he had opened every window and door himself the next morning. And he was quite positive that none of the art treasures of the house were missing.

Lawrence followed on much the same lines. He felt that his time was being wasted, and he was curt accordingly. He had examined every servant in the house, all of whom had been born and bred on the estate. He found one and all strongly attached to their late employer, and he was emphatically of opinion that not one of them was capable of anything in the way of serious crime. No, he had made no inquiries outside, he had not seen any object in doing so. All the experts agreed that the now notorious letter was in Sir George's handwriting, and there was an end of the matter.

The Coroner looked at his watch significantly, and glanced at the jury. He suggested that he had already taken up too much of their valuable time. If there were no more witnesses forthcoming he would proceed with his address, and the jury could then give their verdict, a verdict which they must already have made up their minds upon.

"My witnesses are exhausted, sir," Lawrence said.

Burlinson stood up. He had a few words to say. Oh, yes; he was quite ready to be sworn. He had been making certain investigations, and he had discovered one or two apparently trifling matters which might or might not have an important bearing later on. In the interests of justice he hoped the Coroner would not ask him to be more explicit. The reporters, scenting a mystery, began to grow busy.

"Can we assist you in any way, Dr. Burlinson?" the Coroner asked.

"You can assist me materially, sir," Burlinson replied. "I have come to the conclusion that there is a good deal more here than meets the eye. Of course, that letter is strong evidence to the contrary. But I should like the funeral adjourned till to-morrow because I have the strongest reasons for asking permission to make a post-mortem of the body."

Here was a sudden and unexpected development. The reporters were writing hard at the table; the sleepy jury were wide awake now. A long discussion followed.

"Well," the Coroner said, finally, "it is a case for the relatives of the deceased to decide."

"If they decline I shall lay certain facts before the Home Secretary," Burlinson remarked.

"I confess I am startled," Lawrence said. "And I may also remark that the whole thing is repugnant to me. At the same time I have every confidence that Dr. Burlinson has the strongest grounds for his request. I make no objection whatever."

"That is settled," the Coroner replied. "I take it this means postponing the funeral till to-morrow. To give Dr. Burlinson every opportunity of testing whatever theory he may have formed, this inquiry is adjourned to the same time and place this day month."