A SUSPICIOUS DEATH.
Nearly opposite the residence of Mr. Stavanger there was an untenanted
house. The front area was well planted with trees and shrubs, which
afforded capital shelter to two men who had loitered there for some
time. The men were known to us, being none other than Mr. Cory and
Hilton Riddell. They were getting somewhat fidgety lest a mistake had
been made somewhere. For it was long past the time appointed for Hugh
Stavanger’s departure with Captain Cochrane, and yet they had seen
neither the one nor the other, although the house had been strictly
watched for two hours.
“He can’t have eluded us by going away earlier than the time named?”
said Hilton, anxiously.
“Oh no,” was the confident reply. “Annie would have been sure to let us
know somehow or other.”
“Unless she is suspected, and is prevented from doing anything further
just now.”
“That is possible. But I doubt it, for she would have no need or
opportunity to watch Mr. Stavanger in any suspicious way during the day.
And even if she had found it desirable to do so, and had been detected,
what could these people do to her? They could not say: You shall not go
out, because we have been stealing, and don’t want to be caught. As for
locking her up in her room, that would be hardly practicable. No, since
she has not come out to us I fancy that events are still multiplying
indoors, and that we shall hear all about it soon. Ah--there is somebody
coming out! It is Annie, I expect.”
“No; it is a woman, but it is not Miss Cory.”
“It is a servant, and on an urgent message, for she is actually
running.”
“Hush! she might hear us. Now she has passed us. Shall I follow her, do
you think?”
“No, no, stay here. Look how the lights are flashing about those upper
rooms. The whole house seems to be in an uproar--and now I can hear a
woman screaming. Good God! they are murdering Annie.”
As he almost shouted this, in his sudden alarm, Mr. Cory, followed by
Hilton, rushed across the road and up the steps leading to Mr.
Stavanger’s house. Someone was evidently expected, for the door was
opened as soon as they reached it, and a young girl, the housemaid
probably, stood before them with clasped hands and streaming eyes.
“Oh, sir, are you the doctor?” she exclaimed. “It’s just awful! Wear
has been taken ill all of a sudden, and she is rolling on the floor and
screaming dreadful, with the agony she’s in. The missis is too
frightened to be beside her. But the governess is with her, and oh dear,
doctor, do be quick!”
“I’m not the doctor,” answered Mr. Cory quickly, “but I’ll fetch one
directly. I was passing and heard the screams. Come along.”
A moment later both men were hastening for a certain Doctor Mayne, whom
they knew. He lived not far away, and from him they hoped to be able to
hear a few after-details of the case. Fortunately he was at home, and
set off at once. The doctor whom the servant had gone to seek had not
been in when she arrived at his house, so Doctor Mayne was admitted to
the patient at once. But the moment he looked at her he judged her case
to be hopeless.
Nor was he mistaken. Poor Wear was, as the housemaid had said, in mortal
agony. An hour later she was dead. Annie, though she was tired and
heartsick, was with her to the last, rendering what help she could, and
wondering all the while if this terrible event could be the accident it
was supposed to be. For the woman’s death at this juncture, with Hugh
Stavanger’s secret still unbetrayed by her, was so strangely opportune
an occurrence that less suspicious natures than Annie’s might easily
suspect some of the Stavangers to have had a hand in it.
Wear was known to be rather fond of an occasional drink of Hollands. On
her box in her room was found a gin bottle, from which she had evidently
been drinking. But the bottle contained no gin, but a deadly poison
sometimes used for disinfecting purposes. How this happened to be in an
unlabelled bottle, and how Wear happened to mistake it for gin, are
mysteries which have never been elucidated, and never will be now. The
dead woman can reveal neither of these secrets, nor that other one which
was so important to the people in whose house she died.
It was about eleven o’clock when this event occurred.
Meanwhile our two watchers were in a great state of anxiety and
suspense, which was not lessened when Doctor Mayne, surprised to see
them there still when he left the house, told them that all was over.
“Some time, Doctor Mayne, I will explain everything to you. At present
my great anxiety is about my daughter.”
“Why, is she ill?”
“No, she is in that house. The woman who had just died an awful death
knew a secret likely to cost young Stavanger his liberty and to liberate
young Riddell, and the Stavangers were aware that she had them in her
power. My daughter is there. She also knows their secret. Her life is no
safer than Wear’s was. She shall stay no longer, lest she also be
poisoned.”
“You are saying terrible things, Mr. Cory,” said the doctor, “but your
excitement must prove your excuse. The unfortunate woman certainly died
from poison. But there is nothing in the event to lead to the
supposition that anyone but herself was to blame for the accident. In
any case, it is of a kind to which your daughter could hardly fall a
victim. Even if Wear had been deliberately poisoned--and I do not for a
moment think that is so--a repetition of the same kind of tragedy would
not be ventured upon by even the most reckless criminals. The young lady
whom I take to be your daughter looked so ill and upset that I advised
her to go to bed at once, and I know that she agreed to follow my
advice.”
“Where is Mr. Stavanger?”
“I do not know. There are no men in the house, I think, at present, and
the women are all considerably cut up by to-night’s scene. And now, as I
have had several broken nights lately, and am very tired, I will say
good-bye. To-morrow I will talk things over.”
“Now, what do you think it behoves us to do?” asked Hilton, who was as
greatly perplexed and alarmed as Mr. Cory was. “I cannot understand how
it happens that the Stavangers, senior and junior, and this Captain
Cochrane, of whom Annie spoke, have not turned up.”
“I have it,” said Mr. Cory, after some deliberation. “There has been
some alteration of plans. We left home perhaps earlier than Annie
expected, and there may even now be a message waiting for us. But here
comes a woman. See how she loiters. One would think she was as much
interested in this house as we are.”
“Why, so she is! It is Miss Cory, I am sure.”
And so it proved. It was Miss Cory indeed, looking for her brother and
friend.
“Whatever brings you here, Margaret?” asked Mr. Cory, in considerable
surprise.
“Come here and you shall know,” she answered. “You can do nothing more
here, and I have much to tell you. Annie is not coming out to-night. She
is all right. Now listen.”
And as the trio walked homewards, Miss Cory gave them the following
particulars:
“You had not been gone many minutes,” she said, “when a letter from
Annie arrived, saying that she would come home to-morrow, as her work
would then, she thought, be quite done. She also said that Mrs.
Stavanger had received a telegraphic message during the morning. It was
addressed to her husband, but she had opened it, as was her usual custom
with messages which came to the house. It simply said ‘Can’t come. Bring
H. S. at 8.30 to Millwall Dock. Sail to-morrow.’ Annie understood the
message, which Mrs. Stavanger indiscreetly read aloud. To the mistress
of the house it was not so intelligible. But she comprehended that it
might be important, and sent the boy who does odd jobs about the house
during the day to the shop with it. It seems to me that it would take a
very clever individual to throw dust into Annie’s eyes. ‘I am not sure,’
she writes, ‘that it is safe to neglect watching the house, and yet
Hilton at least should try to keep Hugh Stavanger in sight. What we want
to prove is that he has the diamonds. It is no use, as we know, to
attempt to have him arrested until we have proof in our possession that
will convict him. Of course we know that he is guilty, and certain other
people know it also. But we may not be able to induce them to give
evidence on our side. Mr. Lyon has the honour of the firm to support.
Mr. Stavanger’s family credit and prosperity would be entirely ruined by
the proof of his son’s guilt. Wear will stick to the Stavangers if they
make a sufficiently high bid for her silence. We must therefore place
our reliance on the diamonds, which Hugh Stavanger must have hidden
somewhere or other. They will be our salvation if we can show that they
have been seen in the scoundrel’s possession. I am afraid it is a
dangerous thing to do, but there seems to be nothing for it but to
follow the man to sea. If he does not come home before eight o’clock, it
is hardly likely that the stolen property is here. If he does come home
it might almost be safe to arrest him on the chance of finding the
things on him. But I dread ruining all by premature action, so implore
you to be cautious. Let father watch here with a detective if he likes,
but let Hilton go at once to Millwall Dock and keep a sharp look out
there. He might perhaps discover the name of the ship Captain Cochrane
is commanding, and get a passage in her. If he cannot go as a passenger,
he can try, after changing his disguise, to go as cook or steward. Of
course he does not know the work, but that is a detail that cannot be
taken into consideration when such great issues are at stake.’
“Now what do you think of that?” said Miss Cory, folding up the letter,
which she had stopped to read by the light of a street lamp.
“I think Annie is a wonderful girl. She seems to think of everything,”
was Hilton’s reply, given in a tone of great disappointment. “But her
excellent advice comes too late. Our bird has flown, and it will be
almost impossible to discover him to-morrow, since he is sure to keep
dark, and we do not even know the name of the ship to which he has been
taken.”
“Yes, men generally have an idea that women are of no use,” Miss Cory
said, and her voice had such a triumphant inflection in it that her
hearers at once found themselves heartened again. “But in this case they
may thank their stars that they have got women to help them.”
“We shall only be too glad to thank our stars--the women themselves,”
quoth Hilton. Whereupon Miss Cory rejoined: “Very prettily said, Mr.
Riddell, but you don’t know yet what you have to thank me for. I know
where young Stavanger is to be found this minute.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really and truly.”
“But how in the world have you managed it?”
“Well, you see, when Annie’s letter arrived, you had already left home,
and for a while I was more than a little puzzled as to what was best to
be done. But there was no time to spare, and I soon had to come to a
decision. Had I come to fetch either of you to go to Millwall, we should
have been too late, and had I thought of intercepting either of the
Stavangers on the way, my efforts would have been futile. There was but
one course open to me, and I adopted it without delay. You and I, John,
are about the same size. It being already nightfall, and it being,
moreover, very essential that I should not be noticed much myself, I
took a liberty with your wardrobe that you must excuse. I haven’t seen
much of dock life, as you know, but I have an idea, which has proved to
be correct, that women, at least respectable women, don’t hang about the
dock gates at night unless they are on the look out for some particular
ship. I am not one to stick at trifles, but I did not want to be
mistaken for somebody who wasn’t respectable, and I did want to be as
unnoticed as possible. So I just got dressed in one of your suits, put
my hair out of the way--there isn’t much of it--donned a long top-coat
and took an old hat, and set off for Millwall. I took the Underground,
and changed at Mark Lane. At Fenchurch Street I just caught a train
starting for the docks. If I had had to wait there I should have had a
fruitless errand, for I lost a little time at the other end hunting
about the dock gates, and I was afraid to attract attention to myself by
asking my way. Perhaps you think that I ought to have known it, as I was
down there with you last summer to look over one of the ships in which
you are a shareholder. But things look very different in the bright
sunshine, when you have a lot of friends with you, all bent upon
pleasure, from what they do at night, when you are alone and nervous,
and fearful alike of being seen yourself or of failing to see those of
whom you are in search.
“I am thankful, however, to say that I overcame all obstacles, and I was
luckier in my mission than I could have dreamed of, for I had barely got
up to the dock gates, when a cab stopped for a moment to put down two
men, whom I had little difficulty in recognising as Mr. David Stavanger
and his son Hugh. I almost betrayed myself by trying to get too near
them, as they questioned the watchman, but I suppose they thought
themselves quite safe in that out-of-the-way region, and did not even
trouble themselves to speak low, or to notice who stood near them.
“‘Do you know where the “Merry Maid” is lying?’ asked Mr. Stavanger.
“‘Yes, sir, she’s lying over there, sir, in that basin; but she’s not
easy to get at. She’s been shifted into the middle of the dock, sir. She
was to have sailed this tide, but the bo’sun was telling my mate, a bit
since, that none of her stores have come aboard, through the steward not
ordering them, and telling the skipper that he had. There’s been a jolly
row, and the steward had to clear in a hurry to-night, although he had
signed articles.’
“‘Then I suppose everybody all around is in a tear about it?’ put in
Hugh Stavanger.
“‘Not a bit of it, sir,’ was the watchman’s reply. ‘Why should anybody
be vexed except the owners? They are the only losers, having to pay a
day’s expenses for nothing. The men are nearly all ashore, enjoying
themselves a bit longer.’
“‘But how are we to get on board, if the ship is in the middle of the
dock?’
“‘Oh, that’s easily managed, sir, when you know how to go about it.
Hallo, Jim, just show the gents the way on board the “Merry Maid.”’
“‘Right you are,’ said the individual addressed as Jim. ‘Come along,
sirs.’
“The next minute the Stavangers were on their way to the ship, and I
was trudging back to the station, quite satisfied with the results of my
mission, except for one thing. I had kept a sharp look-out on both
father and son, but could see that they had no luggage whatever with
them. Hugh Stavanger may have the diamonds concealed about him, or, as
he is sure to have some luggage of some sort to follow him on board in
the morning, the property we want to trace may be sent to him to-morrow.
Anyhow, Hilton here, if he can get on board, will make it his business
to seek it. He knows where to go, and he ought to start early, as the
ship sails about noon. Just to finish my story--I got home as quickly as
I could, and changed my clothes. Then I thought that, as you had missed
Annie’s letter, you would perhaps hang about here all night, on the
look-out for Captain Cochrane and his passenger. So I took a cab, and
got out in the next street to the one I expected to find you in--and
here I am, dead-tired, if I may own the truth.”
While Miss Cory had been talking, the trio had been walking homewards.
They hoped to have come across a belated cab or hansom by the way, but
were not fortunate enough to do so. They were all, therefore, very glad
when they reached home, where warmth, food, and rest awaited them.