Читать книгу The Diamond Coterie - Lawrence L. Lynch - Страница 18

Table of Contents

Both Constance and Dr. Heath fancy that they comprehend the situation almost instantaneously. The stranger's movements have been so cat-like, his voice so carefully modulated, that Aunt Honor reads on, never dreaming that an addition has been made to the party. Dr. Heath is the first to speak.

"Upon my word," he says, with a touch of coldness in his tone; "this is quite dramatic."

"It's a very good tableaux," admits the new comer, "but dramatic as the present day drama goes? No, it's too naturally brought about, as you will admit, when I explain my presence here. Your mention of my name, while I lay sprawled across the great branch, within easy hearing, was rather sensational, to me, but, of course you can explain that."

By this time Constance has recovered herself, and rises to the occasion; in fact, she rather enjoys the situation; this is one of the emergencies wherein she is quite at home. Without stopping for commonplace remarks, or expressions of surprise, she goes straight to the point.

"How we came to be discussing you, you must understand, if you are really Mr. Bathurst, and—have been very long in that tree."

"I have been 'very long' in that tree, I feel it," ruefully. "And I am Neil Bathurst, detective; never was anybody else, and by the by, here is this doctor; I heard him giving me a capital 'recommend;' now bid him step up and identify me," and he laughs as if he had uttered a capital joke.

Doctor Heath laughs now, as he comes closer and scrutinizes him by the light from the drawing room.

"Oh, I recognize you by your voice, which you have not attempted to disguise, and by your—a—assurance."

"I thought so!" rubbing his hands with a satisfied air.

"But that physiognomy, I never saw before."

The detective laughs.

"No, this is one of my business faces, and you, sir, are one of the few who have known me simply as a man, without inference to my occupation; a man like me may be expected to turn up anywhere, but you, sir, are the last man I expected to see in this place."

"Nevertheless, I have been an inhabitant of W—— for a year; but enough of me for the present. Mr. Bathurst, this lady is Miss Wardour, in whose service you have been retained."

Miss Wardour extends a gracious, welcoming hand.

"Mr. Bathurst has heard me express my desire to know him," she says, with a little ripple of laughter, "so no more need be said on the subject. Mr. Bathurst you came as opportunely as a fairy godmother; and now let us go in and take my aunt into our counsels."

She lifts the lace curtains and passes in; as she goes, Dr. Heath lays a detaining hand on the detective's arm.

"Mr. Bathurst," he whispers; "in W—— I am Dr. Heath, from nowhere."

"I comprehend," significantly.

"Thank you;" then they too pass through the window, and the detective goes through the ordeal of presentation to Aunt Honor.

Mrs. Aliston, being a thorough woman, who knows her perquisites, gets through with the necessary amount of astonishment, ejaculations, questionings, and expressions of delight; all things are overcome by time, even a woman's volubility. And during the flow of her discourse the detective is communing thus with his "inner consciousness:"

"So we have been retained by this handsome young lady? Well, that's intelligence! and what does the old lady mean by supposing that Mr. Lamotte has told me this and that? Who the deuce is Lamotte? Why the deuce don't somebody ask me how I came to be perched in that tree? Do they think it's the proper thing for detectives to tumble in among them out of the trees and the skies? After all, it is like a drama, for I'll be blessed if I see any sense in it all."

"I see you are all more or less attracted by my personal appearance," he says, after Aunt Honor has given up the floor. "Now that I think of it, it's not just the thing for a drawing room."

Mr. Neil Bathurst, or his present presentment, is a medium sized man, attired in garments that have once been elegant, but are now frayed, threadbare, travel worn; his feet are encased in boots that have once been jaunty; his hat is as rakish as it is battered; his face wears that dull reddish hue, common to fair complexions that have been long exposed to sun and wind; his hair and beard, somewhat matted, somewhat disordered, may have borne some tinge of auburn or yellow once, but they too, have, unmistakeably, battled with the sun, and have come out a light hay color. As Constance looks at him, she, mentally, confesses that he is certainly the oddest figure she has ever entertained in her drawing room.

"I have been wondering just what grade of humanity you are supposing yourself to represent just now," says Doctor Heath, eyeing him quizzically.

"What!" with mock humility, "am I thus a failure? Miss Wardour, look at me well; do you not recognize my social rank?"

Constance surveys him afresh, with critical eye.

"I think," she says, "I recognize the gentleman tramp; one of the sort who asks to wash his face before eating, and to chop your wood after."

"Right!" says the detective. "My self-respect returns; I am not a bungler. In the morning I shall be on the ground, to wash my face, and chop your wood; which reminds me, your servants, they must not see me here. I must depart as I came, and soon."

"And your search," asks Constance, "when will that begin?"

"My search?" hesitating oddly. "Oh, that has already commenced."

"What a curious thing it is that Mr. Lamotte should have secured you, of all men," breaks in Aunt Honor. "I did not think it possible Mr. Lamotte—"

"Pardon me, all of you," breaks in the gentleman tramp. "Something must be set right; I will come to the point at once. Who is Mr. Lamotte? What is Mr. Lamotte? I have never seen him; never heard of him."

"What!" from Constance.

"Oh!" from Mrs. Aliston.

"But—" from Doctor Heath.

"Let me finish," he interpolates. "Let me tell you just how I happened to drop down among you to-night. Recently we have had in the city several robberies similar to this of yours, Miss Wardour, as I understand it. Several times we have had a trace or clue, and have hoped to find the robbers, but so far have been baffled. We must necessarily have many ways of gathering up information, and I have some methods of my own. This is one of them. I have access to the offices of our daily papers. I have a friend or tool in each. When a special telegram, in the line of criminal intelligence, comes to one of these papers, I am in possession of its contents before it has reached the compositor's hands. This morning a 'special' arrived at the office of the Evening Bulletin. I have not with me a copy. It ran:

MONSTER DIAMOND ROBBERY.

[Special dispatch to the Evening Bulletin.]

Intelligence has this moment been received, that Wardour Place has been burglarized; and the splendid Wardour diamonds, valued at more than one hundred thousand dollars, stolen, besides money and papers of value. No particulars as yet.

"This is what brought me here. I came to see if this burglary was the handiwork of the thieves I have been trying to catch. I came solely on my own responsibility, not intending to make myself known to the inmates of this house, but to ferret out things quietly and go my way. While lurking in that tree I was surprised to hear myself made the subject of conversation; and then, impulse led me to respond to this lady's expressed desire to see me, and—I presented myself."

All sit silent, all are astonished, and inclined to think this odd complication out quietly.

Constance is the first to see the absurdity of the situation, and she breaks into a peal of laughter, in which she is presently joined by the others. Finally, she regains her composure and says:

"And so after all you are not our detective. Well, that shall not prevent us from appropriating your services. And you want to identify these robbers if possible? We are all at your disposal—tell us how we can help you most."

"You came with scant information," says Doctor Heath, "and you can't have been here long, but I'll wager you have picked up something."

"As to that," replies the detective, smiling slightly, "I left the city by the early afternoon express, before your Mr. Lamotte had arrived, you see. Twelve miles from W—— I left the train and boarded a freight; about three miles out I abandoned the freight, quite unceremoniously, while she was pulling up a heavy grade, and tramped into town. I lounged about, confining myself to the more obscure streets until I had got the story of the robbery, with full particulars, as far as the gossips knew it. Toward sundown I started in this direction. Stopping on the way, I begged a drink of water and a slice of bread, of an old woman, in a little brown house. She thought me a very well behaved tramp, and inquired after my private history and the condition of my soul."

Constance laughs.

"That is old Mrs. Malloy," she says. "She's very pious and very full of gossip."

"Precisely!" replies the detective, wickedly; "she told me how many lovers you had, Miss Wardour; and how many dresses; and just the color of your eyes, and hair; she told me all about the robbery, and a great many more things that were not quite to the point."

"Of course," assents Miss Wardour, not at all abashed. "Mrs. Malloy is an oracle."

"As soon as I could make my escape from her, I came nearer Wardour Place, and made a circuitous survey. Still later, I came upon your gardener, sitting, ruminating, upon a stone fence, in the rear of the premises. I found him inclined to be communicative, in fact, he seemed rather desirous to air his notions, and he has some peculiar ones, concerning this robbery. I gave him a drink out of my black bottle, and he grew quite eloquent."

"Oh, dear," interrupts Constance once more. "Then, no doubt, he has pruned away half the garden shrubs. Old Jerry always is seized with a desire to prune things, the moment he has taken a drink."

"It was getting too dark for pruning, Miss Wardour, and he went to his supper. Then, I approached the kitchen cautiously, found a comfortable lurking place, close to an open window, and listened to the table talk of the servants. From them I learned the bearings of the library, and so, while you were at dinner, I entered, without difficulty, and have explored that room to my entire satisfaction."

Amazement sits on the face of all three listeners.

"Well!" ejaculates Dr. Heath, "You are a modest tramp! What did you do next?"

"Next I prowled 'round and round the house,' examining all the windows, and drawing some conclusions; and then, having seen you, Doctor Heath, through the drawing-room windows, I established myself in yonder tree to wait until you should go home, and to waylay you."

"Much obliged, I'm sure," says the Doctor, gratefully. "What demoniac design had you on my defenseless self?"

"Several; to appeal to your hospitality; to renew an acquaintance, which in the beginning did me honor; and to quiz you unmercifully."

"Then I forgive you," grandiloquently. "And my doors are open to you, and my hand is extended, and the secrets of my bosom are laid bare. But Miss Wardour has something to say; I see it trembling on her lips."

"Right," smiles Constance. "I was about to ask if Mr. Bathurst, having effected his object thus far independently, will be satisfied to inspect my dressing room, the real scene of action, in the ordinary manner and without any obstacles in the way."

"Perfectly," says the detective, dropping his tone of badinage and becoming alert and business like at once. "And the sooner the better. I am anxious to complete my deductions, for my time is limited, and I must wait for daylight to overlook the grounds more closely than I could venture to do to-day."

"We are all anxious for your opinion, and so, will you take one of those lamps and my keys, or will you have an escort?"

"I wish you to point out to me the exact position of everything this morning, Miss Wardour. I think we may all go up."

So they all ascended to the disordered dressing room, and the detective seats himself, deliberately, upon the first unoccupied chair, and begins to look slowly about him. It is not a long survey, and then the safe is examined. Here he looks at Constance.

"This has not been done without noise; not loud enough to be heard across the hall, perhaps, but enough to be heard by a light sleeper, or, indeed, any one who did not sleep too soundly and with muffled ears, say, in that room," pointing through the curtained arch which divided the dressing from the sleeping room.

"Did you sleep there, Miss Wardour?"

Constance nods, then goes through the arch and returns with a little phial of chloroform, and a fragment of cambric in her hand.

She places them before him, telling him quietly how they were found before her that morning.

The detective takes them, turns them over in his hand, and examines them closely.

"Ah!" he exclaims, drawing out the fancifully carved stopper, "this phial is one of a set."