Читать книгу The House of the Schemers - Fred M. White - Страница 12

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Inspector John Burles passed quickly into No. 14 as if the whole thing had been part of his daily routine. As a matter of fact he had made special application for investigation directly the information of the tragedy had reached Scotland-Yard. For once in his life Burles had lost a deal of his neatness. He looked as if he had been up all night, his clothes were dusty and full of seeds, there were large damp patches on the knees of his trousers. He seemed tired and sleepy.

As a matter of fact he had called in at "the Yard" for something at the same time that the tragedy at No. 14, Vernon-terrace, was reported. He had professed himself to be utterly tired and worn out. Then he had pricked up his ears again and dashed into the fray.

"This is sheer good luck," he told his chief excitedly. "I feel pretty sure now that Mrs. Wanless's missing diamonds are at No. 14, and I've got a most important clue. That is why I have been up all night. Let us have the job, sir; you may depend upon it that one business fits nicely into the other."

The chief inspector thought that probably this might be so. Anyhow, no harm could come of placing the investigation into Burles's hands. A little while later and he was face to face with Lady Altamont in the dining-room of No. 14. Lady Altamont was looking a little pale and distressed: otherwise she was quite herself. She was quite ready to give Mr. Burles all the information he required.

"I think we had better begin at the beginning, my lady," Burles said in his best professional manner. Nobody would have suspected him of being a gentleman by birth now. "I am quite in the dark. They told me some lady here had been murdered, and that is all. A guest of yours?"

"Well, no," was the extremely unexpected response. "An absolute stranger. But perhaps I had better begin at the beginning, too. A little time ago my maid came to me in a great state of agitation, saying that she found a lady, covered with blood, and quite unconscious, lying in the little room beyond my boudoir. The thing sounded so absolutely unnatural that I went to see for myself. And there it was, or rather there she was, lying on the floor with a scalp wound, from which the blood flowed freely. Naturally I was greatly shocked; I was still more shocked to find the lady was a perfect stranger to me."

"You mean that you had never seen her before?" Burles exclaimed.

"Exactly. Undoubtedly the stranger is a lady. She is very well dressed, and has a quantity of valuable jewelry, so that plunder was not the motive for the crime. But the great point is that the lady is a perfect stranger to me. How she obtained access to the house I cannot tell. The door of my boudoir was locked last night, and the key was taken away by my maid. There is no other way to the inner-room, where I keep a lot of my dresses."

"There in no other exit from the room, my lady?" Burles asked.

"Not now, but there was at one time. However, the other exit had been fastened up. The whole thing sounds like the dream of some extravagantly imaginative novelist."

Burles sat thoughtfully for a moment. Had Lady Altamont known what was passing in his mind, she might have been less easy in her own.

"Perhaps I had better see the body," he said. "Would your ladyship show me the way? At the same time I should like to examine the boudoir and the room leading from it. The body——"

"Oh, there is no body; at least, not in your sense of the word, as yet," Lady Altamont cried. "I understand that the poor creature is not yet dead. There are no hopes of her recovery, of course, but she was not dead a few minutes ago. This way, please."

Lady Altamont preceded Burles along the corridor. A thin, professional-looking man was coming out of one of the bedrooms. Doctor was written large all over him. Questioned as to his patient, he was very reserved. There was practically no hope. He had done all he could for the sufferer, he was going off now in search of a nurse. The poor woman was still unconscious, and she was likely to remain so for some days. Meanwhile, nourishment had been administered, and the patient would do very well till the nurse came.

"This is Inspector Burles, of Scotland-yard," Lady Altamont explained. "He says he would like to have a look at your patient. Is there any objection?"

There was no objection at all so long as the detective made no noise. As the doctor hurried away, Burles stood aside for Lady Altamont to precede him into the room. She shook her head and shuddered slightly. There was no occasion for her presence, she said. She had a peculiar horror of this kind of thing. The boudoir door would be unlocked, and Inspector Burles would be free to go anywhere. No objection would be placed in his way in investigating the tragedy. Lady Altamont moved away with the air of one who wipes her hands of the business.

"Clever woman that," Burles told himself. "How well she carries it off! Hasn't the remotest idea who the mysterious lady is! Well, well, anyhow it is a very pretty case."

One of the blinds was pulled up so that a little light fell on the wax-like countenance on the bed. It was a dark, Southern face, with coal-black hair, still fastened back by an old-fashioned tortoiseshell comb fashioned like a harp. As Burles gazed at the fixed features, one of the arms moved in a quick, convulsive way, and lay on the couterpane. The hand was clenched; but something tiny shone beneath the curled-up fore-finger. Very gently Burles extracted the glittering object. He gave a little grunt of satisfaction as he disclosed a quaint ring set in diamonds and rubies. He slipped the ring promptly in his waistcoat pocket.

Then he studied the woman again. There were little round flat objects in her hair, one or two of them had lodged in her corsage; a closer examination disclosed the fact that they were confetti. There were other discs on the floor, some of them were by the door and others along the corridor. Burles traced them here and there to the boudoir; quite a little trail of them carried as far as the curtain behind which the secret entrance from next door lay.

Burles's eyes glistened. He felt that he was getting on now. The would-be murderer had vanished, leaving no sign of a trace behind. What if he had come from next door? Certainly the loose confetti, like a boys' paper-chase scent, pointed to the fact. Burles thought a moment, and then hastily scribbled something on a leaf from his pocket-book. This he despatched by a constable to Miss Lefroy, impressing upon the messenger that he was to deliver it into Ailsa's own hand and get an answer from her lips.

The detective laid his watch upon the table once his messenger had retired, and carefully ticked off five minutes. Then he closed the door of the boudoir and fastened it with a couple of wedges.

The constable had strict orders to stay outside and see that his chief was not disturbed. The sixth minute was nearly over before the curtains drew back and Ailsa stood disclosed.

"Is there anything very dreadful?" she asked. "They told me that it was murder that—— But perhaps I had better come no further into the room. If there is any risk——"

"There is no risk whatever," Burles hastened to say. "And as yet it is not possible to determine whether murder has been done or not. Only that I have made a discovery that I want to tell you about. I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance for but a little while, Miss Lefroy, and it is strange that you have become involved in the mystery in so short a time. I have an idea that the would-be assassin entered this house by that secret passage."

"But that is impossible!" Ailsa cried. "I was here nearly all night, I went to bed——"

"It might have been done before or after you went to bed," Burles interrupted. "The assassin might have come this way without you being any the wiser. He might have concealed himself in this house and returned by the way he had come."

"But when I came down this morning all the doors were fast."

"Yes, but the skylight way may not have been. I have been making a careful examination of the body of the unconscious victim, and I have made a startling discovery. May I come into your studio for a moment, or is it too risky?"

Ailsa hesitated a moment before she replied.

"I should say that it would be quite safe for the next half-hour," she said. "Old Susan is never down before eight, and her husband is away; she is the only servant in the house. I should like to see what you have to show me. Come this way, please."

Burles followed quietly. His face had grown grave, he held a little object in his hand.

"You told me a story last night, you also had a nocturnal visitor who gave the name of John Stern. You will recollect telling this to Miss Wanless and myself. You were surprised to discover that your visitor was wearing a unique ring of rubies and diamonds which you felt quite sure belonged to your guardian. But, strange to say, when your guardian turned up unexpectedly he was wearing the ring. For some reason or another your guardian chose to ignore the very questionable appearance of John Stern in the house, he even invited him into his study to discuss certain matters. After the discussion John Stern left the house, presumedly still wearing that strange ring. Is that so?"

"So far as I could say, yes," Ailsa replied; "but what has this to do with it?"

"A great deal, as I am going to show you. Now Lady Altamont says that the Lady who was so mysteriously done nearly to death in her house is a total stranger to her. She is prepared to swear that she has not the remotest idea who the stranger is. Personally, I have my doubts, but let it pass for the moment."

"What is she like?" Ailsa asked, with pardonable curiosity.

"Dark, and foreign-looking. Very prepossessing, and fairly young. They laid her on the bed just as they found her; her dress and hair apparently were very little disordered. As far as her coiffure was concerned, she might have come straight from her dressing-room. I first noticed little round coloured discs in that lovely hair and in her corsage. Then it seemed to me that the poor creature's dress partook of the nature of a costume more or less likely to be worn at a fancy-dress ball. The little coloured discs puzzled me for a moment, until I made them out at last. They were confetti."

Ailsa looked up in a puzzled kind of way, as if not quite understanding. Burles went on.

"It was confetti, beyond question," Burles said. "I noticed further traces of it along the corridor, and into the boudoir. Now that unhappy lady must either have been carried from the boudoir, though she was not found there, or she must have walked along the corridor, with the bits of confetti dropping off her dress. But then I made the discovery that the confetti led like a scent up to the curtain here, which induced me to believe that she came from your house, or, if she didn't, the assassin did. That is why I asked you to open the door for me. I have something else to tell you presently. As to the poor victim——"

"Foreign-looking did you say?" Ailsa exclaimed; "that reminds me. Have you forgotten that very striking shadow on the blind? The Southern-looking woman with the peculiar fan and the strange comb like the shape of a harp in her hair. Did she remind you——"

"Why, it's the same woman," Burles said in an excited whisper. "Would that I had your feminine mind for detail! The comb was still in her hair. And the woman who is lying at death's door so close to us was the lady of the fan. And, but for you, I should never have made this vital discovery."