The Hand in the Dark, Arthur J. Rees [learn to read activity book .TXT] 📗

As he walked, his eyes roved restlessly over the tapestry hangings and velvet curtains, and took in the dark nooks and corners which abound in old English country-houses.

"Plenty of places here where a man might hide," he muttered, in a dissatisfied voice.

At the head of the front staircase he paused, and looked over the balusters, as though calculating the distance to the hall beneath. Then he descended the stairs.

It still wanted half an hour to breakfast time. There was no sign of anybody stirring downstairs except a fresh-faced maidservant, who was dusting the furniture in the great hall. She glanced nervously at the groups of police officials, and then resumed her dusting. Merrington strode across to her.

"What is your name, my dear?" he asked, in his great voice.

"Milly Saker, sir."

"Very well, Milly. I'll come and have a talk with you presently—just our two selves."

The girl, far from looking delighted at this prospect, backed away with a frightened face. Merrington strode on through the open front door, and turned towards the left wing.

It was a crisp autumn morning. The early sunshine fell on the hectic flush of decay in the foliage of the woods, but a thin wisp of vapour still lingered across the moat-house garden and the quiet fields beyond. Merrington kept on until he reached the large windows of the dining-room, which opened on to the terraced garden.

"That's Mrs. Heredith's window," he said, pointing up to it. "Her bedroom is directly over the dining-room. If the murderer escaped by the window he must have dropped on to this gravel path."

"It is a pretty stiff drop," said Captain Stanhill, measuring the distance with his eye.

"Oh, I don't know," replied Merrington. "He'd let himself down eight feet with extended arms, and that would leave a drop of only ten feet or thereabouts—not much for an athletic man. But if he dropped he must have left footprints."

"There are none. I have looked," said Caldew.

The information did not deter Merrington from examining the path anew. He got down on his hands and knees to scrutinize the gravel and the grass plot more thoroughly.

"Nothing doing here either," he said as he scrambled to his feet. "There are neither footprints nor marks such as one would expect to find if a man had dropped out of the window. What are you looking at, Weyling?"

In reply Inspector Weyling made his first and only contribution towards the elucidation of the crime.

"Could not the murderer have climbed up to the bedroom by that creeper?" he asked, pointing to a thin trail of Virginia creeper which stretched up the wall almost as high as the window.

Merrington tested the frail creeper with his great hand. His sharp tug detached a mass of the plant from the brickwork.

"Not likely," he replied. "It might bear the weight of a boy or a slender girl, but not of a man. What do you think, Caldew?"

Caldew nodded without speaking. Weyling's remark had started a train of thought in his mind, but he had no intention of revealing it to a man who plainly did not intend to confer with him on equal terms, or disclose his own theory of the murder—if he had formed one.

"Let us get inside again," said Merrington, in his masterful way.

He turned back towards the house, and the others followed.

CHAPTER VIII

As they reached the library again a small silver clock on the mantelpiece gave a single chime. Merrington looked at it, and then glanced at his watch.

"Half-past eight!" he said. "That clock is five minutes slow—by me. The people who have been staying here will go off after breakfast. Visitors always leave a house of trouble as soon as possible—like rats deserting a sinking ship. The thing is to question as many as we can get hold of before they go. As some of them knew Mrs. Heredith before her marriage, we may elicit something about her or her antecedents which will throw some light on the motive for the crime."

"I do not think Sir Philip will care to have his guests questioned," remarked Captain Stanhill doubtfully. "They must be all well-connected and very respectable people, or they would not have been invited here."

"There have been very respectable and highly connected murderers before to-day, Captain Stanhill, as no doubt you are aware," rejoined Merrington caustically.

"The guests were all downstairs in the dining-room at the time the murder was committed," said Caldew. "Miss Heredith told me so herself."

"I am aware of that fact also," retorted Merrington sharply. "Nevertheless, they must be seen. We cannot afford to throw away a chance."

"It is a delicate and awkward business," murmured the Chief Constable.

"It will be a delicate and awkward business for us if we don't lay our hands on this criminal," responded Merrington. "Sir Philip Heredith, with his influence and connections, will be able to make it pretty hot for Scotland Yard and the County Police if the murderer of his son's wife is allowed to escape. You'd better take the job in hand at once, Caldew. Weyling can go with you and help. See as many of the guests as you can—especially the ladies—and get what you can out of them. But I'd be glad if you'd first ask Miss Heredith to grant me an interview before breakfast. Don't send a servant, but see her yourself."

Caldew left the room to undertake the investigations allotted to him, and Weyling followed him with a startled expression of face. He felt overweighted by the magnitude of the task which had been thrust upon him, and doubted his ability to discharge it properly.

"Miss Heredith will be able to give us more information than Sir Philip," remarked Merrington in a friendly tone to Captain Stanhill, as the door closed behind the subordinate officials. "A woman is generally more observant than a man—particularly if anything underhand has been going on."

Captain Stanhill cast a puzzled glance at his companion. As a simple-minded English gentleman he was quite unable to penetrate the obscurity of expression which masked the meaning of the last remark. Merrington caught the look, but had formed too poor an opinion of his companion's understanding to explain himself further. Besides, he liked mystifying people.

"I'm going to put the servants through their facings straight away," he continued. "If there is anything to be learnt we are more likely to find it out from them than the guests. Trust the backstairs for knowing what's going on upstairs! Servants want skilful handling, though. You've got to know when to bully and when to coax. Half measures are no good with them."

Captain Stanhill did not reply. He wandered round the spacious library, glancing at the rows of books in their oaken shelves. Superintendent Merrington, while awaiting the arrival of Miss Heredith, drew forth the plan of the moat-house which Caldew had sketched, and studied it closely.

The moat-house had only two stories, but it was a rambling old place and covered a considerable area of ground, facing three sides of the county. The principal portion, consisting of the old house which had been burnt down and rebuilt, faced the north. The two wings had been added later.

The front door opened into a spacious entrance hall which in former times had been the dining-room. At the end of the hall was the grand staircase, adorned by statues, armour, and the Heredith arms carved in panels. The principal rooms, with the exception of the dining-room, were all on the ground floor of the main building, but corridors led off the entrance hall to the newer wings at each side, extending on the right side to the billiard room, conservatory, greenhouses, and orangery, and on the left side to the dining-room, Miss Heredith's private sitting-room, and Sir Philip's study.

Merrington carefully studied the arrangements of this wing, as depicted on Caldew's sketch plan. The upper portion was reached by a staircase which opened off the corridor almost opposite the dining-room door, and ran, with one turning, to a landing which was only a few feet away from the door of the bedroom in which Mrs. Heredith was murdered. Next to this room was a dressing-room, and a spare bedroom. The remainder of the wing consisted of two bathrooms, a linen room, and Miss Heredith's bedroom, which was at the south end of the wing. The rooms all faced the west side of the house, and were lit by windows opening on the terraced gardens. They were entered by a corridor which ran the whole length of the wing, terminating in the door which opened on the unused back staircase.

Before Merrington had finished his scrutiny of the plan, the door opened, and Miss Heredith entered the library. She looked pale and worn, and there were dark rings under her eyes which suggested a sleepless night. But her face was composed, though grave.

Captain Stanhill advanced and shook hands with her, uttering a few words of well-bred sympathy as he did so, and then introduced Superintendent Merrington.

"Superintendent Merrington has been kind enough to come down from Scotland Yard at my request to give us the benefit of his skill in investigating this terrible crime," he said simply.

"I desired an interview with you in order to ask a few questions," said Merrington, coming to the point at once.

Miss Heredith bowed.

"Were all the blinds down in the dining-room last night during dinner?" asked Merrington.

Captain Stanhill looked quickly at his colleague. He failed to see the purpose of the question.

"I think so," replied Miss Heredith, after a moment's reflection. "I cannot say for certain, as I was out of the room during the latter portion of the dinner, but I can easily ascertain." She touched a bell, which was answered by a maidservant. "Tell Mr. Tufnell I wish to speak to him," she said.

The girl went away, and Tufnell appeared a moment afterwards.

"Were the blinds all drawn in the dining-room during dinner last night, Tufnell?"

"Yes, ma'am. I pulled them down myself before sounding the gong."

"Thank you, Tufnell."

"I understand that you were not present at the dinner table when the shot was fired?" said Merrington when the butler had left the room.

"No, I was not."

"May I ask why you left the table?"

The question was put suavely enough, but a half-uttered protest from Captain Stanhill indicated that he, at least, realized the sting contained within it. But Miss Heredith, looking at Merrington with her clear grey eyes, replied calmly:

"I was called out of the room to speak to our chauffeur. He had been ordered to have an extra vehicle in readiness to convey our guests to an evening entertainment, and he wished to consult me about it."

"Why did you not return to the dining-room?"

"Because dinner was nearly finished when I left the room."

"Where were you when the shot was fired?"

"I was on the stairs, on the way to my room when I heard the scream. I was hastening back to the dining-room as quickly as possible, but before I reached it the shot rang out."

"Surely these questions are unnecessary, Merrington," exclaimed Captain Stanhill. "Anyone would think—I mean that there is not the slightest idea in our minds that Miss Heredith—at least, I meant to say—" Captain Stanhill floundered badly as he realized that his remarks were capable of a terrible interpretation which he did not intend, and broke off abruptly.

"I am very glad that Superintendent Merrington has asked these questions," said Miss Heredith coldly.

Merrington bowed a grim acknowledgment. He had still many questions he wanted to ask Miss Heredith, and he proceeded to put them in his own masterful way, very much as though he were examining a witness in the police court, Captain Stanhill thought, but in reality with a courtesy and consideration quite unusual for him. It was his best manner; his worst, Captain Stanhill was to see later. As a matter of fact, it was impossible for Merrington to be gentle with anybody. He had spent so many years of his life probing into strange stories and sinister mysteries that he had insensibly come to regard the world as a larger criminal court, made up of tainted and adverse witnesses, whom it was his privilege to cross-question.

He questioned Miss Heredith searchingly about the young bride. According to an eminent expert in jurisprudence, the tendency to believe the testimony of others is an inherent instinct implanted in the human breast by the Almighty. If that be so, it is to be feared that the seed had failed to germinate in Merrington's bosom, for his natural tendency was to look upon his fellow creatures as liars, particularly when they were of good social standing, with that hatred of notoriety which is characteristic of their class. Merrington had this fact in his mind as he interrogated Miss Heredith closely about the circumstances of her nephew's marriage. He hoped to extract from her something which her English pride might lead her to conceal, something which might throw a light on the motive