Читать книгу The Lady in Blue - Fred M. White - Страница 7

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Goring was restraining his feelings with an effort. He usually was one of the coolest and most collected of men. Indeed, he had gone through more than one campaign as a war correspondent with credit to himself. But now he was shaking from head to foot with the horror of this discovery, which seemed for the moment to quite unman him. It was difficult for Kelso standing there to realise that he was face to face with a ghastly tragedy. Outside the newsboys were still bawling the startling story at the top of their voices. Inside there was light and laughter and the soft strains of the band, as if no such thing as trouble existed anywhere.

At any moment the news might come home to the assembled guests and turn rejoicing into sorrow. Goring made a quick motion of his hand in the direction of the open window.

"For heaven's sake, close it," he whispered. "We must try and do our best to break this thing gently."

"But are you quite sure the man is dead?" Denver asked.

"My dear fellow, I have had too much experience in that direction to make mistakes. I knew the Duke was dead directly I looked into the conservatory. But come with me and see for yourselves. And look here, Kelso, close that door and put the key in your pocket. We don't want anybody interfering with us just for the moment. This ghastly business has been a terrible shock to me. I thought I was hardened to all kinds of horrors."

The cries of the newsboys were dying away in the distance now, and once more the roadway was quiet. There was little chance of interruption, so that the gaiety and laughter were going on downstairs, whilst three men behind the locked door were face to face with stark murder. For a glance at the body lying on the conservatory floor showed unmistakably that it could be nothing else. The little glasshouse had been built out over the porch at the end of the corridor. And there was no other way into it, except by the corridor, so that the miscreant responsible for this cold-blooded crime must have actually passed Kelso as he stood there looking out through one of the corridor windows. He had not noticed anybody in particular; indeed, he could only remember hearing passing footsteps twice, but he had seen nobody, for the simple reason that he had not wished to be identified himself, and had therefore kept his back studiously turned upon the light. All this, of course, would come out in due time, but for the moment the three men were more concerned with the body lying there before them.

There was no sign of a struggle and no suggestion of violence. The pots of roses and carnations and palms were undisturbed, and one or two chairs distributed about the place did not appear to have been moved. On a large skin rug the body of the dead man was lying face downwards, and between his shoulders were a gash and a deep red stain, which showed that a knife had been driven between the ribs with great force and had no doubt reached the heart. For the rest there was nothing in the nature of a clue, and the Grand Duke lay just as if he had been overtaken by fatigue and had fallen asleep. Beyond all doubt the fatal blow had been one which left no time for anything in the shape of a struggle.

"He must have gone down like a stone," Goring said. "I should say that death took place in a few seconds. But what a ghastly business! Fancy—oh, I don't like to think of it! Still, we can't stand here like this all night. I must find some excuse for getting rid of our friends downstairs, and, as soon as they are gone, I will telephone for the police. I hope nobody heard what those boys were shouting. Now come and help me."

Downstairs the dance was in full swing, and the ballroom floor was one changing mass of colour. There was no sign here of anything but happiness and enjoyment, no suggestion of the mute and hideous mystery of the conservatory overhead. Still, there was that on Goring's face which was unmistakable as he threaded his way through his guests. At the same moment the music ceased and the wave of dancers surged from the ballroom and overflowed, chatting and laughing, into the corridor.

"What is the matter, Goring?" some one asked smilingly. "Why this skeleton at the feast?"

"I have some exceedingly bad news," Goring said gravely. "The Grand Duke Oro is dangerously ill. His condition is exceedingly critical. I am afraid I shall have to ask you to cut these festivities short. In the circumstances I make no apology, but you'll see for yourselves exactly how it is. I know it is very inconvenient, but there are two telephones in the house, so it will not be difficult to send for two or three cars at the same time. I am sorry——"

But nobody appeared to be listening. In that strange, swift fashion by which the tale of disaster spreads, everybody seemed to know, almost simultaneously, what had happened. The noise and chatter died away, a heavy silence hung in the air, and then, almost imperceptibly, the rooms were drained of their gay tide of humanity, and Goring was left alone with his wife, together with Kelso and Denver. Lady Goring was white to the lips, her eyes dark with terror.

"It is worse than you say," she stammered. "The Grand Duke is dead. Instinctively, I seem to know it."

"It is even worse than that," Goring explained. "The Grand Duke has been murdered. Murdered here in this house, in the little conservatory at the end of the corridor, where any chance guest or passing servant might have seen what was going on. Kelso here was standing within a few yards at the very moment the crime was taking place, yet he saw and heard nothing. The whole thing was almost incredible. But we are wasting time here talking like this. I ought to have sent for the police long ago. I should have done so, only it seemed better to me to get all our guests out of the house in the first place. You had better go to your room and leave us to meet the people from Scotland Yard."

Lady Goring was taking it very well; perhaps the full horror of the tragedy had not yet come home to her. It seemed strange to stand there in those flower-decked rooms so suggestive of good fellowship and hospitality, and yet so strangely empty. A few puzzled-looking servants flitted about, and in the big hall a knot of footmen were whispering together. The butler, passing along, was stopped by Goring and told exactly what had happened.

"You had better tell the test of them," he said; "and everybody except yourself can go to bed. When you've done that, call up New Scotland Yard on the telephone and ask them to send some one round here at once. That's all for the present."

There was nothing to do now but to wait the arrival of the police. The three men stood there discussing the affair under their breath, pending expert opinion, but the more they dwelt upon it the more inexplicable it appeared to be.

"It is almost incredible to me," Kelso said. "There was I within a few feet, and yet I saw or heard nothing. I did not even notice anyone going to the conservatory or anyone returning from it. And the murderer must have passed me twice. It might have been his footsteps that I heard, and probably it was, but more than that I can't say. I should make a very bad witness, and should not be the slightest use to the authorities."

"I quite see that," Goring said. "Now I should like to know what the Grand Duke was doing in that little nook all by himself. Why did he go there? Do you suppose that he made an assignation with somebody? And there is no getting away from the fact that the poor fellow met his death at the hands of one of my guests. It's a horrible thought. But there is no other theory to account for it. In a way, the fact ought to narrow down the police inquiries very considerably. Nobody could say that the crime is a political one, or that it was committed by some anarchist. If we could only find out who it was who lured the Duke——"

"But I can tell you that," Kelso broke out eagerly. "Strange that I should have forgotten the incident, even at so disturbing a moment as this. Denver and myself were standing by the Grand Duke early in the evening, and he was sitting and carrying on quite a pronounced flirtation with a fair lady in a blue gown. I haven't the remotest notion who she was, but perhaps Denver——"

"Not I," Denver interrupted. "As to that I am as much in the dark as you are. I noticed the lady, of course, and I should recognise her again. She had evidently been up to the conservatory herself for some reason or another, and had left her fan there. She asked the Duke to fetch it. Indeed, I heard her do so. Of course, I didn't take any notice of her at the time, because it was such a trivial incident. The Duke got up to fetch the fan and Kelso followed him at a distance."

"But what on earth for?" Goring asked.

"Perhaps I had better be candid. I am going to rely upon your discretion, Goring, and tell you something which, at present, has no particular bearing upon this case. At least, I don't think so. If later on I find that it has, then I will give you permission to speak. Meanwhile, my information is in strict confidence. One does not want to enter into a discussion on the bad taste of speaking ill of the dead, and so I need not remind you that the Grand Duke was an unprincipled rascal—and thereby hangs a tale. Kelso and myself came here to-night with the intention of keeping a close eye upon His Imperial Highness. We are under the impression that he held the key to a mystery which has a direct bearing upon Kelso's future happiness. Therefore, as soon as the Duke disappeared, my friend here followed him. And that is why he was in the corridor just now. He has told you all he knows, and it seems to me that for the moment it is up to us to concentrate our attention on the lady in blue. I would suggest that she left her fan behind her on purpose, and that she did so in order to lure the Duke to his destruction."

"Surely a dangerous thing to do," Goring said. "Anyway if the fan is up there still, we shall easily find out who the owner is. It is pretty certain that the Duke did not bring it back."

In the midst of this discussion Inspector Stead, of Scotland Yard, put in an appearance. He listened patiently enough to the story that Goring had to tell, and then a move was made towards the conservatory. But there was nothing here to help, and no clue of any sort, except one slight and insignificant item, which came to light when the body was moved. The left-hand shirt-cuff had been torn from the sleeve, and no trace of it was to be seen. Beyond this there was no suggestion of a struggle.

"Do you attach any importance to it?" Goring asked.

"I should say none," the inspector replied. "But I can't do much till the doctor arrives. After that, perhaps, I may be able to speak more freely."