Читать книгу The Golden Rose - Fred M. White - Страница 11

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Wilkinson smiled in a dubious sort of manner.

"I wouldn't worry about that, sir, if I were you," he said. "For one thing, you will find that no one will believe you. It is too much to ask anybody to credit a story like that. But all this is very irregular, and daresay I shall get myself into trouble for allowing you to say so much without warning you that whatever you say will be used in evidence against you. I ought to get back to Mr. Payn's house. I left the doctor there, so that I have done all I can. Perhaps you would like to come along."

"As your prisoner?" Lethbridge asked bitterly.

"Well, no, sir," Wilkinson replied, "not yet. I am sorry that I said as much. But I must confess that when I saw that flower in your buttonhole I lost my head for the moment. Do you really mean to tell me that two horticulturists could have invented a marvellous flower like that simultaneously?"

"I have told you so," Lethbridge said coldly. "After all, why not? The thing is within the bounds of possibility. Don't forget that I lived with my uncle until I grew up, that I was as passionately fond of flowers as he was, and that their growth and propagation was part of my education. In Mr. Payn's library was the finest collection of horticultural books in the world. It is no exaggeration to say that I knew most of those books by heart. Some of them were in black letter and written in the quaintest language. It is strange that in many of them, as old as the fifteenth century, the Golden Rose was mentioned. For over three hundred years the legend crops up in various works, and the fascination of it grew upon us till we spent most of our evenings in discussing the subject. I believe it was the pursuit of the Golden Rose that led my uncle to lose the bulk of his fortune. Long after we had parted he continued his experiments, spending large sums of money without making any headway. I was foolish enough to give much of my leisure to the same thing, but I can't take credit to myself, because my discovery was more or less the discovery of an accident. Fortune was coming to me at length, and I began to see my way to making a good deal of money. You can imagine my surprise when I discovered to-night that I was living close to my uncle, but that is nothing to the astonishment I felt when my uncle showed me his Golden Rose."

"Why should he do that?" Wilkinson asked.

"Ah, now you have asked me a question that I have no difficulty in answering. He showed it me for two reasons. First of all because he didn't want me to leave him, lest his assailant might return. Secondly he showed it me because we had discussed the possibilities of the discovery so many times together. And when I came away my fixed intention was to destroy my beloved plant. I don't suppose a case-hardened official like yourself would understand that I was moved entirely by sentiment. If I had told my uncle that I had made the same discovery as he had done I should only have been accused of robbing him again. He would have argued in some mysterious way that I had entered his greenhouse and taken a cutting of the plant. I had no desire to repeat the worry. And, besides, there is another reason which I shall not tell you, and which you would not understand or appreciate if I did. I regret my impulsive action now, because I see the serious position in which it has placed me. But if you had come here an hour ago I should have had no difficulty in producing my Golden Rose for your inspection. I give you my word as to this."

"That is possible," Wilkinson said drily. "The miscreant who attacked Mr. Payn so savagely did not have his trouble for nothing. I made a careful search of the greenhouse before I came away, and the Golden Rose is nowhere to be found."

"Then you think I had it?" Lethbridge demanded.

Wilkinson shrugged his shoulders. He was not going to commit himself to any words. But it was plain what was running through his mind. Lethbridge felt savage and vindictive. He would like to have laid hands upon the inspector and shaken him violently. But physical force was not to be thought of.

"I shall know what to say when the time comes," he murmured. "But tell me how all this came to light. Did you stay any time with my uncle? Did you get any alarms?"

"From Miss Grover, yes," Wilkinson explained. "I suppose I had been back home the best part of an hour when she came to my house in a great state of terror and alarm to tell me that her uncle was lying dead on the floor of his greenhouse, murdered by some unknown person. She was too terrified to be coherent, but from what I could gather she went up to bed just after midnight leaving her uncle alone in the greenhouse. She had been aroused from her sleep by the sound of a struggle followed by cries for assistance in her uncle's voice. When she got downstairs the ruffian had vanished, and the poor old gentleman was lying on the floor in a state of collapse. As I said just now, he was not quite dead when we got there, but I should think it impossible for him to live till morning. But perhaps you would like to come to Mr. Payn's house and see for yourself."

Lethbridge complied eagerly. It was the one thing he desired. Anything was better than sitting there brooding over the tragedy and trying to find some ray of light in the gloom that surrounded him. He walked along moodily by Wilkinson's side until they came to Jasper Payn's cottage.

There was nothing fresh to report. The injured man had been conveyed to his own room, where at that moment he was lying at the point of death. So far as Lethbridge could understand a nurse had been sent for, and she and Mary Grover were engaged in attending to the wounded man. The doctor came downstairs, and he was drawing on his gloves before going home. He shook his head gravely in reply to Lethbridge's question.

"A very bad case, sir," he said, "in fact, I never saw worse. If Mr. Payn had not a good constitution he would have been dead before now; indeed, it is only his extraordinary vitality which keeps him alive. The wound is a serious one."

"A wound from a knife?" Lethbridge asked.

"Oh, no. I should say it was inflicted with some heavy blunt instrument on the back of the head. What we have to fear is fracture of the skull, but as to that I can't be quite certain yet. Mr. Payn may linger till morning, he may even get better; but that chance is a million to one. I will call again before breakfast. There is nothing to be gained by staying now."

"He is unconscious, I suppose?" Lethbridge asked.

"Absolutely. I don't suppose he uttered a groan after he was felled. Since then he has been perfectly silent. It is a most mysterious affair. You would have thought that a poor old gentleman who had devoted all his life to the cultivation of flowers would not have a single enemy in the world. I suppose you haven't found out anything, inspector? I am afraid this case is rather more in your line than mine."

Wilkinson shook his head. The doctor drove off presently, and the inspector and the man whom he had come to regard as his prisoner were alone together. They were in the greenhouse still; the lamps were lighted; there was no sign of confusion or any suggestion of a struggle save for the broken glass by means of which the first assailant of the evening had escaped.

"Do you think it was the same man?" Lethbridge asked.

"Ah, that I couldn't say," Wilkinson replied. "And that, by the way, is a point in your favour. Undoubtedly, somebody came here with the intention of robbing Mr. Payn. He was here at the very moment when you say that you were standing at the gate talking to Miss Grover. In that case, you will have no difficulty in proving an alibi; at least, up to a certain extent you will be able to do so. That is not everything, you understand."

As Wilkinson spoke he pointed to the rose in Lethbridge's buttonhole. There was something terribly significant in the action. Before Lethbridge could reply, Wilkinson's attention had been diverted to something else. He crossed over to the place where the glass was broken, and carefully examined a small object upon the floor. Without any comment he placed the thing in his pocket, then strode out into the garden. He would not be gone more than a minute or two, he said. Left alone Lethbridge glanced round the place. He saw that the canvas screen had been torn down, and that the Golden Rose had vanished. He was still pondering the inexplicable problem when the door of the greenhouse leading to the cottage opened and Mary Grover came in. Her face was deadly pale. There were dark rings under her eyes, her lips twitched slightly. She started at the sign of Lethbridge, then a smile trembled on her face.

"I did not know you were here," she stammered, "though I sent for you. I could not think of anybody else, and you were so kind and sympathetic tonight. Besides, being a relative of ours, I thought you ought to know."

"It is a shocking affair," Lethbridge murmured. "Have you no idea how it happened?"

Mary Grover shook her head.

"Not in the least," she said. "I suppose Mr. Wilkinson has told you all that I had to say. It seems all the more dreadful because it happens at such a time as this. Do you know I have never known your uncle to be so kind and communicative as he was last night after you left. He told me all about his early life, he told me how you used to work together and speculate for hours and hours in the evening over the possibility of recovering the wonderful Golden Rose. And then I began to understand why the poor old man worked so many hours in secret, and why he was so strict as to my not being allowed in here. He was free enough as to the way in which he had wasted his fortune. He reproached himself because it looked as if at one time he would have nothing left for me after all he had promised. Just as if I should have minded that!"

"Of course you wouldn't," Lethbridge murmured.

"Oh, I told him as much. And then, when he had finished, he brought me in here and showed me the Golden Rose. I never saw him so pleased and delighted before, he told me that here was the fortune he had squandered, that in future everything would be for me. I wanted a flower, but he would not listen to the suggestion. It seems a terrible thing to think that perhaps at the very moment when my uncle was talking in this confidential manner the thief was listening to everything. The mere thought makes me shudder. For that was what the thief was after. He came for the Golden Rose, and was prepared to do anything to gain possession of it. No doubt he believes that no one knows the secret of that beautiful flower. And now it has vanished, leaving no trace behind. Now—"

The girl paused abruptly. The colour faded from her face. Her eyes were fixed intently on the rose in Lethbridge's coat.