Читать книгу Of Royal Blood - William Le Queux - Страница 8

Table of Contents

FOR a few seconds I stood inactive, horrified, gazing upon the white face whence the light of life had faded.

So suddenly had I made this ghastly discovery that at first I was unable to realise that the man who had been so full of activity and good-humour was now a corpse. Even while I had been in conversation with this woman, who was his wife, he had been lying there dead, and then, as I reflected, the truth, a vivid and disconcerting one, was suddenly revealed to me.

By Gordon's death my power over this woman had vanished. My future was in her hands, and too well I knew that she would be merciless.

Again I placed my fingers upon the chill face, and then chafed the thin stiffening hands. But those wide-open glaring eyes, in which the film of death had already gathered, told me that life had fled. The honest true-hearted man with whom I had shared chambers through my early years of wild-oat sowing had been snatched away with a suddenness that was appalling.

Then, the suggestion occurring to me that after all he might be only in a state of unconsciousness, and that medical aid might succeed in resuscitating him, I rushed through into the dining-room and touched the electric button. Opening the door I listened for the approach of someone, but all seemed strangely silent.

The great square hall with its black oak stair-case and balcony above was but dimly lit, and there was an ominous stillness everywhere. I rushed across to the drawing-room under the impression that the dead man's wife might still be there, but that chamber was in darkness. The electric light had been switched off.

Again I rang the bell violently; then, standing in the hall, shouted loudly for help. My voice echoed through the house, but no one stirred.

Why, I wondered, had everyone deserted the place like that? Surely this woman who was my enemy must have known all along that my threats were unavailing, now that the man who had made her his wife was lying cold and dead.

Having failed to obtain assistance I went back to the little study and tried myself to arouse him. But from the first moment of the discovery I knew that all efforts were futile. He had lain down there calmly, and passed away in peaceful silence, for his face was in no way distorted. Only the fact that his hands were clenched showed that the last sting of death had caused him pain. The room seemed chill and draughty, and on examination I was surprised to find, behind the drawn curtains, that the long window leading out upon the small sloping lawn was open—a fact in itself suspicious.

Could it be possible that Gordon had been the victim of foul play?

Such suggestion, however, was quickly put aside by the recollection that a telegram had been received at the Foreign Office announcing his indisposition. He had no doubt been taken ill suddenly, and died from some unknown natural cause.

I had closed the window when, on glancing round the room, my attention was attracted by a smell of tobacco-smoke, and I saw on the table an ash-tray wherein were ashes and the end of a freshly-smoked cigar. Had Gordon smoked before his death, or had he received some male visitor?

Yet another curious fact greatly perplexed me. In the fireplace was a quantity of tinder—the remains of some voluminous document which had recently been destroyed. One tiny portion of the paper remained charred, but not consumed. I picked it out carefully, and on examining it was amazed to discover that the paper was of that peculiar tint and texture used in the French Foreign Office. Surely Gordon could not have destroyed some compromising papers in his possession, and then afterwards deliberately committed suicide?

Whatever the explanation, there was no doubt that some secret papers had been burnt there, and further, that these papers were not English. The window leading to the garden being open lent colour to the theory that some one had passed out of the house by that means. Again, the flight of Judith, and the absence of the servants, were all circumstances of the gravest suspicion.

The room wherein my friend was lying was more of a smoking-room than study. True, there was a large writing-table at the end and a couple of well-filled bookcases, but the cane rocking-chairs, the long deck-chair with its holders in the arms for the big glass of whisky and soda, and the two smoking-tables, showed that its owner was more fond of ease than of study.

On glancing around the writing-table I saw something unusual on the blotting-pad, and bent to examine it. The paper was white, but discoloured by a great stain of bright yellow. This was still damp, and on smelling it I found it to be some acid; but what it was I could not determine.

Just, however, at the moment when I held the pad in my hand I heard a movement behind me, and turning quickly with a start perceived a young woman fully dressed in neat black. She seemed equally surprised to discover me there, but without a moment's hesitation I demanded—

"Who are you?"

"I'm Ann, sir," she answered, drawing back as if in fear of me.

"Are you one of the servants here?" I said, recognising her.

"Yes, sir."

"Then why are you going out?"

"I've only just come in, sir," she replied. "There's nobody in the house, so I came here to see if either master or mistress were here."

"Your master is there," I answered, pointing to the couch.

"What!" she cried in alarm. "Is he unwell?"

"Were you not aware of his illness?" I inquired.

"No, sir," she answered. "He went out at the usual hour this morning, and had not returned when I left at three o'clock."

"Why did you go out?"

"It was my afternoon out, sir. Mistress gave me an extra two hours."

In this latter statement I scented suspicion.

"Why did she give you extra leave?" I demanded.

"I don't know, sir," the girl responded. "But is master very ill—can I do anything?" she asked anxiously.

"No," I replied. "You can do nothing, except to tell me all you know of this affair. Where's your mistress?"

"Gone out, I suppose, sir—I've been through all the bedrooms, but there's no one in the house at all; no dinner ready, or anything. But is master sleeping?" she added with increasing anxiety.

"No," I said, fearing to tell her the truth lest she should go off into hysterics or do something equally annoying. In this matter calmness was essential, and I was determined to learn from her all I could. "How long have you been in Mrs. Clune's service?"

"Ever since they were married, sir."

"And you have a good place here?" I asked.

"I can't grumble. I don't get many Sundays out, but mistress is very kind and thoughtful of us."

"How many are you?"

"Three, sir; cook, another housemaid, and myself."

"And you have no knowledge of where your two fellow servants have gone?"

"None whatever. They were here when I went out."

"And your mistress?"

"She went out immediately after luncheon."

"Then your master was not at home ill today?" I exclaimed in surprise.

"No, sir. He went out about ten, as he usually does, to catch his train to London; but I noticed that he was dressed differently than is usual."

"How?" I asked quickly.

"He wore a low felt hat instead of his tall silk one, and had on an old tweed suit that's quite shabby. When I saw him go out I wondered at him dressing so badly. He's always so very smart—neat as a new pin, as the sayin' is."

This was certainly a remarkable fact. At the Foreign Office a telegram had been received announcing his indisposition, while at the same time he had gone forth in what was apparently a disguise. It was not like Gordon to go to London in an old tweed suit.

"And after your master had left, what occurred?" I inquired, determined to sift this matter to the bottom.

"Nothing," she responded. "There was only one caller, a gentleman."

"A gentleman!" I cried. "Who was he?"

"I don't know, sir," she replied.

"Now, my girl," I said earnestly, "in this matter you must be perfectly frank. It is most important in your master's interests that I should know all that has transpired here to-day. You, of course, recollect that I dined here a little time ago. I remember now that you waited at table—although at first in your hat and veil I failed to recognise you."

"Certainly, sir; I'm quite ready to tell you, or master, all I know."

"Well, with regard to this gentleman, was he merely an ordinary-looking man, or was there anything about him which struck you as peculiar?"

"There was nothing extraordinary," she answered with a puzzled look. No doubt she thought my words strange ones. Her name was Primrose she had informed me. "He merely asked for mistress, and when I inquired his name he said it was Christian. I asked him into this room, and mistress, when I told her he had called, seemed just a trifle excited. Her face went red, and she seemed at first annoyed that he should call so early, for she hadn't quite finished dressing her hair."

"And what then?"

"She finished hastily with my assistance, and went down to him. He remained there fully half-an-hour, and then went away laughing."

"Did you overhear any of their conversation?"

"No. I think he was a foreigner, for they spoke French, or some foreign language, and they spoke it so quickly and loudly that it seemed once or twice as though they were quarrelling. Mistress is an excellent linguist, you know."

"Yes, I know she is," I answered smiling grimly. "But this man was an entire stranger, wasn't he?"

"I'd never seen him before."

"Young or old?"

"About thirty-five, or perhaps forty; rather tall and fair."

"With a moustache pointing upwards?"

"No, his moustache was short and bristly; and he had a light beard," the maid replied. "He was rather thin and wore a light drab overcoat tightly buttoned."

"Did he speak English well?"

"Yes, quite well. Indeed, I thought he was English until the bell rang and I went to the dining-room, when I heard mistress speaking to him in a foreign tongue. She was standing near the fireplace while he was seated in the arm-chair over there—the one master always sits in. He seemed quite at home, and mistress ordered me to bring him some brandy and soda."

"Then you left the room and heard no more?"

"Not until the bell rang again and I showed him out."

"And then?" I asked.

"When he'd gone mistress flew into a great rage. She said it was abominable that people should call so early."

"But she treated him very courteously when he was present?"

"Very. I, however, didn't like him. He seemed to treat mistress just a trifle too familiarly. Perhaps, however, it was only his foreign way. Foreigners hold different views from us I've heard it said."

"Well," I exclaimed, "continue your story. What happened after that?"

"Mistress spent some little time in the study, writing letters, I think. Then she lunched alone, and afterwards went out."

"Was she dressed as though she intended making visits?"

"Not at all. I assisted her to dress, and remarked that although the day was fine she seemed, like master, to have a leaning towards an old dress. She put on an old blue serge and a sailor hat—a thing which she'd put away since last summer—and she seemed in a hurry either to catch a train or to keep some appointment."

"Has she many friends here in Richmond?" I inquired.

"Oh, yes, lots. We're generally crowded on her 'At home' days."

"And you went out soon after she did?"

"Yes. I went over to Kingston to see my mother, and then on to Surbiton. When I returned I went round to the back door, found it open, and came in, but to my surprise everybody had gone. The place was deserted. To tell you the truth, sir, when I first saw you peering about master's writing-table, which we are forbidden to touch, I thought you were a burglar."

"That's not surprising," I answered with a smile. "But this affair, I may as well tell you at once, is a most serious one."

"Serious? What do you mean, sir?" she asked, starting at my words and looking at me in surprise.

"During your absence something mysterious has occurred. I don't know any more of it than you do. I only know the terrible truth."

"And what's that?" she demanded breathlessly.

"That your poor master is lying there dead!"

"Dead!" she gasped, growing pale. "Dead! It can't be true."

"It is true," I responded. "I found him there not long ago. Look for yourself."

The trembling girl crossed the room on tiptoe, and gazed into the face of her master. It needed no second glance to convince her that she was in the presence of the dead.

"It's terrible, sir—terrible!" she gasped, drawing back pale in horror. "Surely he can't really be dead?"

"Yes," I answered. "There's no doubt about it; absolutely no doubt. But whether it is the result of natural causes or of foul play it is impossible at present to tell."

"Do you suspect, then, that he's been murdered, sir?" she inquired in a low, terrified voice.

"I suspect nothing," I said. "I entered here and found him exactly as you see him now. The window, too, was open. Someone might have escaped by it."

"Ah, the window!" she said. "I recollect opening it this morning at mistress's orders. She declared that the room smelt stuffy."

"Was it often open?"

"It hadn't been opened all the winter until to-day, when I picked out the strips of cloth with which the cracks had been plugged up. Master always declared that there was an unbearable draught from it; so one day last October I helped mistress seal up the door altogether."

"There was no other reason why it should be opened, except because the place was stuffy, was there?"

"None whatever. It was a fine day, of course, and I suppose mistress thought well to freshen up the room. I must say that the tobacco smoke is very thick here sometimes, when master has two or three friends. But poor master! I really can't believe it," she added, looking at him kindly again. "He was always so considerate towards us. I can't think what's become of cook and Mary."

"Rather think of your mistress," I said. "What a blow this will be to her."

The girl glanced at me curiously, as if trying to discern how much I knew.

"Yes," she sighed, but refrained from further comment, a fact which went to confirm my opinion that this neat domestic knew much more than she had already told me.

"Were your master and mistress always on good terms?" I asked.

"Always," the girl promptly replied. "They were devoted to each other."

I smiled. The idea of that woman whom I had half-an-hour before threatened with exposure being devoted to anybody was, to me, amusing. That she knew of her husband's death was certain; yet after her ominous words to me she had left the house, leaving me alone with the corpse of my friend.

I recollected now how my appearance had caused her confusion, and how she had greeted me with a hollow courtesy. Undoubtedly I had arrived at a very inopportune moment, and it seemed equally certain that the two other servants were fully aware that their master had passed away.

Gordon's wife had fled, and that in itself was sufficient to arouse suspicion, while on the other hand my friend's own actions in sending the telegram of excuse to the Foreign Office, and in going out in unusual attire, complicated the puzzle to an extraordinary degree.

Lord Macclesfield had sent me there to hear some strange statement, yet the lips that had uttered those words which had startled and interested the great statesman were now silent for ever.

I stood gazing upon that white face, so calm and tranquil in death, and pondered deeply.

Yes, that some grave, extraordinary mystery surrounded my friend's decease I felt convinced.