WHO DID IT?
There was a smile on Slight's face, as if he rather enjoyed the
situation. After all was said and done, the culprit had been
successful in bringing about the thing the old butler most desired.
Fortunately no harm had been done to the house; there was nothing the
matter beyond the damage caused by smoke and water, nothing that the
work of a day or two could not put right. At the same time this
attempt to destroy the house had been the means of removing from it
the trio whose presence had been so great a humiliation. The police
had cleared everybody out of the house, indeed the Hall was likely to
remain empty now till they had investigated the causes of the fire.
"It might have been worse, sir," Slight whispered to Ralph. "It's a
good way of getting rid of those fellows till Sir George is ready to
pack them off altogether. Whoever did this was a sort of friend of
ours."
Ralph started. Slight's suggestion had given him a sudden idea.
"That may be," he said, "but you will admit that the experiment is a
risky one. The place might have been utterly destroyed. Still, it is
yet to be proved that this is the work of an incendiary. I can hardly
believe that it is."
The inspector led the way to the Hall. So far as the eye of a novice
could judge, it was here that the fire had burst out. The floor was
black and scarred and a few beams were still hot from the effects of
the flames. The floor was littered with some crisp ashes.
"Now I want to call your attention to this, Sir George," the inspector
said. "Nothing has been destroyed here, nothing but the floor and a
portion of the ceiling. There must have been a very fierce blaze here,
and yet there is nothing for the flames to feed on. Then where did all
those crisp short ashes come from? See what a pile there is of them!
What was it that burnt here so fiercely?"
"It certainly is a strange thing," Sir George murmured.
"Very strange, sir.' There was nothing left on the hall floor last
night, I suppose? No packing cases or anything of that kind, Sir
George?"
"There was not," Slight exclaimed. "I can answer for that, nothing
whatever."
"Which renders my suspicions all the more certain," the official went
on. "The short crisp ashes represented straw, a large bundle of straw
dumped down on the floor and set fire to by some person or other.
Please look at this."
The speaker stooped down and gathered up a handful of the crisp ashes,
smoothing them out on the palm of his hand. At intervals there were
yellow shining specks in the grains.
"Will you kindly look closely?" he said. "Amongst the charred mass you
can plainly see specks of straw that have escaped the fire. It seems
to me an amazing thing that anybody could carry straw into the house
like this without being found out. But there it is, and there is an
end of it. You are quite sure as to the straw, Sir George?"
"Quite," Dashwood muttered. "Most amazing. We did not go to bed till
very late, which makes it all the more remarkable. It must have been
practically daylight before the miscreant could have begun to work."
"It certainly is a novelty," the Inspector replied, "but I want to
convince you fully that I am right in my conclusion. You will see that
parts of the ashes, very minute parts, are plastered together as if
they were wet. Also you will see that the floor has been burnt in a
kind of channel nearly as far as the door. It is only a narrow
channel, but at the same time it is perfectly well defined. Now, what
caused the floor to burn in that erratic manner? I am going to tell
you. Let us follow that track up as far as the door. There is a large
stone with little cracks at the side into which a liquid of some kind
has fallen or run rather."
The speaker bent down and rolled a scrap of paper into the moisture
which lay shining in the crack of the stone. Then he handed the paper
to Sir George.
"Will you kindly smell that, sir," he asked, "and tell me what you
make of it?"
"No trouble at all about that," Dashwood exclaimed; "the stuff is
paraffin beyond a doubt."
"Precisely. The straw was dumped on the floor and then saturated with
paraffin. If the straw was slightly damp, that would account for the
dense quantity of smoke. The paraffin ran into little ripples over the
floor, which accounts for the strange track of the flames. But we can
ascertain that to a certainty."
A question or two being asked, it was discovered that a large can of
petroleum was missing from one of the toolsheds. A little later the
empty tin was discovered in one of the flower-beds. The discussion was
at its height when Mary appeared. She looked very pale and shaky,
otherwise she maintained her self-possession. But as she listened to
the strange story it seemed to Ralph Darnley that she was disturbed
about something. The pallor of her face became more marked, her eyes
filled with something like fear. Did the girl know anything about it,
Ralph asked himself? If not, why did she appear to be so strangely
moved by the plain recital? The thought was ignoble and unworthy, but
Ralph could not free himself from it altogether. He drew Mary a little
apart from the rest; he could see that she was trembling with some
strong emotion.
"The old house has had a very narrow escape," he began. "All Horace
Mayfield's carefully prepared plans were very nearly in vain. If the
house had been destroyed----"
"I--I did not look at it in that light," Mary stammered. "As you say,
nothing could have mattered had the house perished. Where are those
men now?"
"I don't know. It does not in the least matter. As things stand at
present, the police will not permit anybody to be in the house except
one or two like ourselves. Until their investigations are complete and
they have gathered all their evidence, nobody will be permitted to
sleep in the house. The men you speak of will be treated just like
anybody else. It seems as if Fate were fighting on your side, Mary.
You have no occasion to fear Horace Mayfield now."
Mary smiled faintly. It was evident that she was deeply troubled about
something.
"I think I understand you," she said presently. "The loss of the house
would have been a dreadful grief to me. But, still, these natural
misfortunes happen to all of us, and I daresay I could have suffered
the loss as well as most people. And the blow would have possessed
many compensations. To be free from Horace Mayfield, ah!"
Mary finished her speech with a deep, long-drawn sigh. But the
whiteness did not leave her face, the look of fear still lurked in her
blue eyes. Ralph took a step forward and bent down so that he could
whisper his words into Mary's ear.
"Your pride would have carried you through that," he said. "At the
same time, your position had driven you almost to despair. You know
more than you care to say, Mary, you know more than the rest of us how
the fire came about. Can you look me in the face and deny it? Are you
going to tell me the truth?"
Mary's face flamed with anger. She stepped back, and her passionate
eyes flashed in Ralph's direction. He could see the crimson mounting
to her temples.
"Perhaps you would like to accuse me of the crime?" she asked
breathlessly. "Perhaps you would like to suggest that I did it to save
a scandal? That I risked my own life, and the lives of other people,
because I was afraid of a paltry disgrace? Is there anything else that
you would like to imply, Mr. Darnley?"
"You are talking nonsense," Ralph said coldly, "and you know it. I am
not insinuating anything of the kind. But you know quite well who the
culprit is."
Suddenly Mary's manner changed. She grew quiet and docile. Ralph could
see that her lips were trembling, and that she found it hard to keep
back the tears.
"Forgive me," she whispered. "Think how hard I am tried, how hard it
all is for me. If I were a man I should probably take a more rational
view of the case. Remember how my whole heart and soul are wrapped up
in this house. I could fight to save it from contamination as a mother
would try to shield an erring son. If I lost it I should die!"
"You would not," Ralph said. "If, by any trick of fortune, Dashwood
Hall passed out of your possession, it would be the very best thing
that ever happened to you. If you had to go out into the world to get
your own living it would be the making of your character. It would
bring out all the natural nobility of your nature--you would look back
to the past with remorse. Of that I am certain."
"Indeed," Mary said coldly. "Perhaps you would like to bring that
misfortune about?"
"I should," Ralph retorted. "If I could be cruel to be kind like that,
I should not hesitate for a moment. But we are getting a long way from
the point. I said that if you had no hand in this business, you know
who did it."
"I have my suspicions. But, until I can verify them, it would be wrong
to speak. Even if I knew for certain, I should hesitate to tell
anybody what I had discovered. One thing I can promise you--the
attempt will not be made again. . . . What are those people so excited
about? Have they made some fresh discovery? Let us go and see."
Sir George and the Inspector were closely examining some shining
object that the latter held in the palm of his hand. There was a grim
look on Slight's face.
"What is it?" Ralph asked. "What is the latest sensational development
of the mystery?"
"This, sir," the Inspector exclaimed. "We have found this matchbox
under the burnt straw."