A BUSY AFTERNOON
Lord Curberry was something of a student and a great deal of a
man-about-town, so his residence at Blackheath was an ideal one for an
individual who blended such opposite qualities. His pleasant Georgian
mansion of mellow red brick stood sufficiently far from London to
secure privacy for study, and yet was sufficiently near to enable its
owner to reach Piccadilly, Bond Street, the clubs and the theatres,
easily when he felt so disposed. The chief seat of the family, indeed,
was situated in Somersetshire, but Curberry, not possessing a sporting
nature, rarely went to live in the country. The Blackheath estate was
not large, consisting only of a few acres of woodland, surrounded by a
lofty stone wall; but this wall and the trees of the park so
sequestered the house that its seclusion suggested a situation in the
very wildest parts of England. In every way, therefore, this compact
place suited Lord Curberry and he lived there for the greater part of
the year.
When Dan and Mrs. Bolstreath arrived they found that the house had
been thrown open to the public, so to speak. That is, there was a
crowd at the entrance-gates, many people in the grounds, and not a few
in the very mansion itself. There was not much difficulty in guessing
that Marcus Penn's death had drawn a morbid multitude into the
neighborhood wherein he had come to his untimely end. Moreover, the
inquest was to be held in the house, and the public desired ardently
to hear if the verdict would be "Suicide!" "Murder!" or merely
"Accident!" In any case, sensational developments were expected, since
the death of the secretary was both violent and unexpected. As a
barrister, Curberry assisted the law in every possible way and had
permitted the inquest to take place in the house instead of ordering
the body of the unfortunate man to be removed to the nearest mortuary.
Every one commented on his kindness in this respect, and approved of
his consideration. For the time being Curberry was more popular than
he had ever been before.
As Dan walked up the short avenue and noted the disorganization of the
establishment, he made a significant remark to the agitated chaperon.
"I don't think that Curberry will have much time to give to Lillian.
All the better, isn't it?"
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," said Mrs. Bolstreath, much
flustered.
"Well, Penn must have concealed his confession somewhere about the
house, so if Lillian wishes to find it, she must get rid of Curberry
somehow."
"But wouldn't it be wise of her to tell him and ask him to assist in
the search?" suggested the lady.
"No. If Penn wished Curberry to see his confession, he would have
given it to him for delivery to Lillian. He doesn't want Curberry to
see what he has written. H'm," Dan reflected that he had used the
present tense, "I forgot that the poor chap is dead."
"But surely," Mrs. Bolstreath's voice sank to a horrified whisper,
"surely you don't think that Lord Curberry has anything to do with
these horrible people you have been telling me about?"
"I say nothing--because I know nothing--for certain, that is. I only
suspect--er--well--that Curberry may be in the swim. Now don't go and
give away the show by changing your manner toward the man," continued
Halliday hastily; "act as you have always acted and, indeed, I want
you to make yourself as agreeable as possible. Take him away if you
can, and leave me alone with Lillian."
"But for what reason?"
"Well, if Curberry is mixed up in this shady business he will not
leave Lillian alone. He may wonder, and probably does, at her
unexpected presence here, on this day of all days; therefore he may
suspect a confession by his secretary and will keep his eyes open."
"Oh, you go too far," cried Mrs. Bolstreath, fanning herself with her
handkerchief.
"Perhaps I do," assented Dan in a very dry tone, "but in a case like
this it is just as well to take all necessary precautions. And in any
case Curberry will haunt Lillian's footsteps until she is out of the
house, if only to find out why she paid this unnecessary visit."
"He can ask her," said the chaperon curtly.
"He won't, if he is what I suspect him to be. But there, I may be
accusing the man wrongfully."
"I'm sure you are. Lord Curberry is a perfect gentleman."
"Perfect gentlemen have been discovered doing shady things before now.
However, you know what comedy we have arranged. You have come to fetch
Lillian back, and I came to escort you. Then get Curberry away on some
pretext and let me have ten minutes talk with Lillian. Understand?"
"Yes," gasped Mrs. Bolstreath, "but I don't like these things."
"One can't touch pitch without being defiled," quoted Dan cynically,
as they arrived at the open hall door, "we wish to see Lord Curberry."
This last question was addressed to a footman, who came to meet them.
He recognized Mrs. Bolstreath as having been in the house before with
Miss Moon, so readily explained that the young lady was with his
master in the drawing-room. Everything was so upset with the inquest,
that he never thought of asking for a card, so conducted the visitors
to where Lord Curberry was entertaining the girl. Having announced the
names and fairly pushed them into the room, the footman departed in a
hurry, as there was much excitement amongst the servants and he wished
to hear all that was being said. Had not Curberry been attending to
Lillian, he would have kept better order, as he was a severe master,
and expected decency under all circumstances. But no doubt he also was
disturbed by the unusual invasion of his house.
"My--dear--Lillian," cried Mrs. Bolstreath in large capitals, and
advancing toward the end of the room, where Lillian was seated,
looking uncomfortable, "my dear Lillian!" She glared at Lord Curberry.
The gentleman had evidently been pressing his suit, a proceeding which
sufficiently explained Miss Moon's discomfort. He was as cadaverous as
ever in his looks, and his pale-blue eyes, thin lips and general
sneering expression struck Dan afresh as uncommonly unpleasant. The
man flushed to a brick red under Mrs. Bolstreath's glare and hastened
to excuse himself. "I am not to blame, I assure you," he said
hurriedly.
"Blame!" echoed Lillian with a thankful glance at the sight of her
lover, "why do you say 'blame,' Lord Curberry?"
"You ask that?" said Mrs. Bolstreath, plumping down indignantly, "when
you go away without my knowledge to pay an unauthorized visit to a-a-a
bachelor. If I thought that Lord Curberry----"
"I am not to blame," said that gentleman again with a scowl, for he
did not like to stand on the defensive.
"Of course you aren't," remarked Miss Moon easily, and with another
glance at Dan to point her words. "I saw in the paper that poor Mr.
Penn was dead, and as he had been my dear father's secretary I came on
the impulse of the moment to learn exactly what had happened."
Curberry nodded acquiescence. "I have explained the circumstance to
Miss Moon and I shall explain matters to you, Mrs. Bolstreath! As for
Mr. Halliday," he frowned at Dan, "I don't know why he has come."
"To escort me, at my request," said Mrs. Bolstreath coldly. "It was
necessary for me to call here and take Lillian home. Why did you
come?" she asked again.
"To hear about Mr. Penn," repeated Lillian rather crossly. "I have
been telling you so for the last few minutes."
"I am curious about Penn's death myself," said Dan agreeably, "did he
commit suicide?"
Curberry wheeled at the word. "Why should he commit suicide?" he
demanded with suspicion written on every line of his clean-shaven
face.
Dan shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sure I can't say," he answered
good-humoredly, "only a man in good health isn't found drowned unless
he has some reason to get into the pond."
"Penn was not in good health," said Curberry sharply. "He was always
complaining and did his work so badly that I intended to give him
notice."
"Perhaps he committed suicide because you did."
"No. I did not tell him to go, and after all, I can't say that he did
kill himself. He was all right at luncheon yesterday, which was when I
last set eyes on him. I went to town and returned at five o'clock to
hear that he was dead. One of the servants walking in the park found
his body in the ornamental water at the bottom of the garden."
"Did any one push him in?" asked Mrs. Bolstreath.
"I think not. He was on good terms with the servants, although not
popular in any way. No one in my employment would have murdered him,
and, as the gates were closed and no one called between luncheon and
five o'clock yesterday, it is quite certain that he was not murdered
by a stranger. In fact, I don't believe he was murdered at all."
"Suicide, then?" suggested Dan once more, and again Curberry looked at
him unpleasantly, as if not relishing the idea.
"So far as I saw he had no intention of committing suicide," he said
in a cold manner, "however, the evidence at the inquest will settle
the matter."
"I expect he didn't look where he was going and fell in," said Lillian
suddenly. "Mr. Penn was always absent-minded you know."
"I frequently found him so," remarked Curberry grimly. "He made a
great mess of his work occasionally. I am inclined to agree with you,
Miss Moon."
"Well," said Dan, after a pause, "let us settle that Penn fell in by
accident until we hear the verdict of the jury. When does the inquest
take place?"
"In another hour," responded the host, glancing at his watch. "I was
just impressing upon Miss Moon the necessity of returning home when
you arrived. I have to be present, of course, so as to state what I
know of Penn."
"You will give him a good character?" asked Halliday pointedly.
Curberry stared in a supercilious way. "The best of characters," he
said. "I had no fault to find with him save that he was absent-minded,
a quality which no doubt accounts for his death, poor chap."
"Well, well, it's all very sad," said Mrs. Bolstreath in a matter of
fact way, "but all our talking will not bring the poor man back.
Lillian, child, we must go home, now that your curiosity is satisfied.
But first I shall ask Lord Curberry to give me some of those hot-house
flowers I see yonder," and she nodded toward a conservatory, which
could be entered from the drawing-room by means of a French window.
"Oh, I shall be charmed," said Curberry with alacrity, "and perhaps
Miss Moon will come also to choose the flowers."
"I can wait here," replied Lillian carelessly. "I have every
confidence in Mrs. Bolstreath's choice."
Curberry scowled at Dan, for he understood well enough that Lillian
wished to remain with his rival. However, he could make no further
objection without appearing rude, so he moved reluctantly toward the
conservatory beside the chaperon. Yet Dan saw plainly that he was
determined not to lose sight of the two, for he plucked the flowers
which were directly in front of the French window, and thus could gain
a view of the young couple every now and then, when facing round to
speak with Mrs. Bolstreath. Lillian noticed this espionage, also, and
whispered to Dan, who had sauntered across the room close to her
elbow.
"He won't let us out of his sight," said Lillian rapidly, "and I can't
get to the library, although I have been trying all the time."
"Why do you wish to get to the library?" asked Dan in a low voice.
Lillian rose suddenly and dropped a piece of paper. "Put your foot on
it and pick it up when he is not looking," she said swiftly; "hush,
he's coming back," and then she raised her voice as Curberry returned
to the room. "Of course Mr. Penn was always nervous. I really think
his health was bad."
"Still on the disagreeable subject of the death," remarked Curberry,
who had a handful of flowers to offer. "I wish you wouldn't think of
these things, Lillian--I beg pardon, Miss Moon. Please take these
flowers and let me escort you and Mrs. Bolstreath out of the house.
It's atmosphere is uncomfortable just now."
He took no notice of Dan, but offered his arm to Lillian. With a swift
glance at her lover, at Mrs. Bolstreath, at the room, the flowers, at
anything save Dan's right foot, which was placed firmly on the scrap
of paper, she accepted his offer. The chaperon followed, and when
Curberry's back was turned she noticed that Halliday stooped swiftly
to pick up the paper. But that he gave her a warning glance she would
have asked an indiscreet question. As it was she went after her host
and pupil, walking beside Dan, who had now slipped the paper into his
trousers pocket. But Mrs. Bolstreath could not restrain her curiosity
altogether.
"What is it?" she whispered, as they walked into the entrance hall.
"Nothing! Nothing!" he replied softly, "take Lillian home at once. I
shall follow later," and with this Mrs. Bolstreath was obliged to be
content, although she was desperately anxious to know more.
"I wish I could escort you home," said Curberry, as the two ladies and
he stood on the steps, "but my duty keeps me here for the inquest.
Perhaps Mr. Halliday will oblige."
"I am afraid not," said Dan stolidly. "I promised to meet my friend
Mr. Laurance here. He is coming about the matter of Penn's death. Why,
there he is," and sure enough, at a moment that could not have been
better chosen, Freddy appeared up the avenue.
"Well," said Mrs. Bolstreath, catching a significant glance from Dan.
"We are not able to wait and chat. Lord Curberry, we detain you."
"No! no! Let me walk for some distance with you," cried Curberry, and
bareheaded as he was he strolled down the avenue between the two
ladies. Laurance took off his hat and Lillian bowed graciously, as did
Mrs. Bolstreath. But Lord Curberry took no notice of the reporter
beyond a rude stare.
"That's just as it should be," remarked Halliday, watching the man's
retreating form, while Freddy came up to him, "you're just the man we
want."
"We?" echoed Laurance, glancing round.
"Lillian and myself. See here, this is the note sent by Penn to her,
and it asks her to do something which she has not been able to
accomplish owing to our noble friend's vigilance."
"What's that?"
"I'm just going to find out. I haven't read the note as yet," and with
a second glance to make sure that Curberry was at a safe distance Dan
opened the piece of paper, and read it hurriedly. A moment later he
slipped it again into his pocket and took Freddy's arm. "It's only a
few lines saying that Penn has left a document which he wishes Lillian
to read. It is to be found between the pages of the second volume of
Gibbon's 'Decline and Fall.' Hum! So that is why Lillian wished to get
into the library."
"Let me go," said Freddy eagerly.
"No! no! You catch Curberry as he returns and keep him in conversation
on some plea or other. Then I can slip into the house and seek the
library without being noticed."
"Won't the servants----"
"Oh, the house is all upset this day with the inquest, and every one
is wandering about more or less at large. I'll chance it."
"But if Lord Curberry asks for you?"
"Say that I am in the library and that I am waiting to have an
interview."
"On what subject?" asked Laurance, rather puzzled by this scheming.
"I'll find the subject," said Dan, retreating toward the door of the
house; "all I want is five minutes in the library to find the
confession. Detain Curberry for that time. Here he is coming back and
here I am going forward."
As he spoke Dan vanished into the house and came face to face with the
butler. "I am waiting for Lord Curberry," said Dan, "will you show me
into the library, please."
Suspecting nothing wrong and impressed by Dan's cool manner, the
butler conducted him to the room in question, and after intimating
that he would tell his lordship, departed, closing the door. Halliday
ran his eye round the shelves, which extended on three sides of the
large compartment from floor to ceiling. It seemed impossible to find
the book he was in search of, in so short space of time as would
probably be at his disposal. He wished that Penn had indicated the
position of Gibbon's masterpiece. However, Halliday, by a stroke of
luck, suddenly realized that Curberry numbered his shelves
alphabetically, and catalogued his books, so to speak, by the initial
letter of the author's name. Those beginning with "A" were placed on
the shelf, ticketed with that letter, as Allison, Allen, Anderson, and
so on, while the shelf "B" contained Browning, Bronte, Burns, and
others. Going by this way of finding the whereabouts of books, Dan
discovered Gibbon's "Decline and Fall" on shelf "G" and laid his hand
on the second volume. But as luck would have it, Lord Curberry
suddenly entered the room just as he was about to open it. Halliday
looked up, retaining the volume in his hand.
"I am rather surprised to see you here, Mr. Halliday," said Curberry
in a cold and haughty tone, "you know that I am busy with this inquest
and have no time for conversation. Besides," he looked hard at his
visitor, "you could have explained your business out of doors."
"Not in the presence of the ladies," said Dan promptly; "however, I
won't keep you more than five minutes," and he wondered how he was to
secure the confession without the knowledge of his host.
"I am waiting to hear what you have to say," said Curberry, throwing
his lean figure into a chair, "you have been making yourself at home,"
he added with a sneer, glancing at the book.
Dan laid it on the table. "I took up Gibbon's second volume just to
pass the time," said he carelessly, "I apologize if you think me
presuming."
"I don't think anything," rejoined Curberry with a shrug, "except that
I am anxious to know why you desire a private conversation."
"It is about Lillian----"
"Miss Moon, if you please."
"Lillian to me, Lord Curberry."
"Nothing of the sort, sir," cried the other suitor furiously, and his
pale eyes grew angry. "Sir John Moon wishes me to marry his niece."
"Probably, but his niece wishes to marry me."
"That she shall never do."
"Oh, I think so. And what I wish to say, Lord Curberry, is this--that
you annoy Miss Moon with your attentions. They must cease."
"How dare you; how dare you; how dare you!"
"Oh, I dare anything where Lillian is concerned," retorted Halliday,
and again in a careless manner took up the book, leaning against the
table and crossing his legs as he did so.
"Leave my house," cried Curberry, starting to his feet, for this
nonchalant behavior irritated him greatly.
"Oh, willingly. I simply stayed to warn you that Lillian must not be
annoyed by you in any way."
"And if I do not obey you?" sneered the other, quivering with rage.
"I shall make myself unpleasant, Lord Curberry."
"Do you know to whom you are speaking?"
"Well," said Dan slowly, and with a keen glance at the angry face, "I
am not quite sure. I am not Asmodeus to unroof houses, you know."
Curberry's yellow face suddenly became white, and his lips trembled
nervously. "I don't understand you."
"I scarcely understand myself, and----"
"Wait," interrupted Curberry, as a knock came to the door, "there is
no need to let every one overhear our conversation. Come in!" he cried
aloud.
The butler entered. "You are wanted at the inquest, my lord," he said,
and as Curberry's face was bent inquiringly on that of the servant,
Dan seized the opportunity to slip a stiff sheaf of papers out of the
Gibbon volume. As a matter of fact, it was three or four sheets joined
at the corner by a brass clasp. Scarcely had he got it in his hand
when Curberry wheeled, after hurriedly telling the butler that he
would come shortly.
"What have you there?" demanded the host, advancing menacingly.
"Some papers of mine," said Dan, preparing to put the sheets into his
pocket.
"It's a lie. You must have taken them from the table, or out of that
book, Mr. Halliday. Yes, I am sure you did. Give me what you have
taken."
"No," said Dan, retreating before Curberry's advance, "you are not
to----"
Before he could get another word, the man flung himself forward and
made a snatch at the papers. Held loosely by the corner clasp they
flew into a kind of fan, and Curberry managed to grip one or two of
the sheets. In the momentary struggle these were torn away, and then
the owner of the house released himself suddenly. The next moment he
had flung the sheets into the fire, apparently thinking he had got
them all. Dan cleverly thrust the one or two remaining sheets into his
pocket, and played the part of a man who has been robbed.
"How dare you destroy my papers," he cried indignantly.
"They were mine," said Curberry, gasping with relief, "and now they
are burnt."
"They were Penn's," retorted Halliday sharply, "perhaps that is why
they have been destroyed by you."
"What do you mean; what do you mean?"
"Never mind. I think you understand."
"I don't. I swear I don't."
"In that case," said Dan slowly, "you can make public the fact that I
came into your library to find a document in the second volume of
Gibbon, which was placed there by Marcus Penn. But you won't, Lord
Curberry."
"If the papers were not destroyed, I would place them before the
Coroner at once," said Curberry, wiping his face and with a glance at
the fire on which fluttered a few black shreds--all that remained of
what he had thrown in. "I think you must be mad to talk as you do."
"If I am, why not make the matter public?" asked Dan drily.
"I don't care about a scandal," said Curberry loftily.
"Well," Halliday retreated to the library door, "perhaps the death of
Penn will be scandal enough. Those papers doubtless contained an
account of the reasons which led to his death."
"I'm sorry that I burnt them then," said Curberry in a studied tone of
regret. "I am an impulsive man, Mr. Halliday, and you should not have
annoyed me in the way you did. How did you know that the papers were
in the second volume of Gibbon?"
"Never mind."
"Were they addressed to you?"
"Never mind."
"What were they about?"
"Never mind!"
"D---- you, sir, how dare you?"
"Good-day, Lord Curberry," interrupted Dan, and walked out of the
room, leaving his host looking the picture of consternation and dread.