MISS CLARA "SAVES MY LIFE."
One arm was stretched through the broken window towards the
conservatory door, which he was trying to unlock; but seeing that
someone was approaching he withdrew his arm hurriedly, and the white
face that had been peering through the jagged hole in the window-pane
disappeared. The next instant I was at the conservatory door, all agog
to unfasten it and to give chase, when suddenly, from every part of the
building, came the ringing of alarm bells, and, with a sharp click, a
bolt upon the conservatory door slid into its place. Clearly Miss Clara
had pressed the button of the burglar alarm, thus locking the very
door to which my hand was then stretched, and so effectually shutting
me in, and a possible housebreaker out. With one twist of my fist I
turned the key to which the Dumpling had been directing his attention.
Then I tried to slide back the only remaining fastening--the bolt which
had been shot into its place by the burglar alarm. It held fast,
and cursing Miss Clara, her inventful brother, and his too ingenious
burglar box, I tugged at the door with all my strength, but to no
purpose. The thing would not budge an inch, and when I snatched up a
piece of rockwork from a fernery and bashed desperately at the hateful
bolt, I only made matters worse. So far from loosening, the bolt
seemed only to set its teeth, bulldogwise, the more tenaciously for my
blows. Grinning with rage, and with the strain of concentrating all
the strength of my body into my two fists, I threw down the rockwork,
with a word I hesitate to repeat, but which Metcalfe, upon whose foot
the piece of rockwork fell, had no hesitation in forcibly repeating,
what time he limped upon one leg around the conservatory with a grin
of pain upon his face more beautiful to behold than the grin which had
so recently been upon mine. For the present it was clear that, thanks
to Miss Clara and the invention of her resourceful brother, the quarry
had escaped me. Long before I could have knocked out sufficient glass
to crawl through the conservatory window, long before Miss Clara could
have reversed the action of the machine and so released the lock upon
the door, the Dumpling would be far away.
[Illustration: "THERE PEERED THROUGH A BROKEN PANE OF GLASS ... THE
WHITE AND WICKED FACE OF THE DUMPLING."]
Under the circumstances I thought it wise to put the best face I could
upon my defeat, delicately hinting at the same time to Metcalfe that I
should be personally obliged if he would make it convenient to do the
same upon his pain, since much as one might admire a stone gargoyle
which bore a resemblance to a human face, a human face which bore a
striking likeness to a stone gargoyle in pain was less admirable and
more alarming.
"And now," I said, "we'll return to the drawing-room and to Miss Clara,
and get her to open the conservatory door so that we can search the
garden without delay."
The returning to the drawing-room was easier to speak of than
to accomplish, for the door, leading into the corridor from the
conservatory, had been securely locked by the same fell agency which
had so effectually interfered to prevent my giving chase to the
Dumpling; and it was some time before I could persuade the parties,
on the other side, that the persons clamouring for entrance were not
burglars or murderers, but only Metcalfe and myself.
After a word or two to Miss Clara, I returned, accompanied by Metcalfe,
to the conservatory, and thence to the garden. As I had feared, all
was to no purpose. The broken window-pane was the only evidence of
our recent visitor, for though we scoured the place from end to end,
we could not find as much as a footprint by way of a clue. Without a
warrant from the police--which I had no possibility of obtaining--I
could not hope to explore the neighbouring garden, where it was
possible the Dumpling might still be concealed; so we returned,
somewhat chapfallen, to the house. Miss Clara, who was awaiting us with
a perturbed countenance, refused to share my dissatisfaction at the
result which had been brought about by her ill-timed action in setting
the burglar alarm at work.
"In all probability I saved your life," she said calmly. "A man like
that, who had just committed a murder, and no doubt had come here to
commit another, or to burgle the house, was tolerably sure to have been
armed; and if you had been able to open the conservatory door and to
follow him out, he would in all probability have shot you at sight."
"I thought you said that all the windows were plate glass," I grumbled.
"If so, how did the man contrive to break that pane and to get an arm
through?"
"I said all the windows in the house," corrected Miss Clara. "The
conservatory isn't in the house, and no one could get into the house,
from the conservatory, without passing through the corridor door,
which, as you know, was fast locked, like the rest of the doors and the
windows, when I pressed the burglar bell.
"Well, you have done your best, Mr. Rissler. No man can do more. We
shall have the police here directly. They have been a long time in
coming as it is, but I expect the entire staff is out hunting for the
murderer of poor young Grant. What shall we do when they come?"
"Tell them the facts, of course," I said, "and let them see the broken
window-pane and examine the garden for themselves. If I hadn't supposed
they were already on the way here, and if I hadn't been in such a hurry
to get out and search the garden, as not to give myself a moment to
think, I should have urged upon you the necessity of sending for them
before. Hush! Was that a ring at the front door? I think so. Very
possibly it is they."
It was--a sergeant and an ordinary constable, decent fellows, honest
fellows, conscientious fellows, both of them, but not, I imagine,
overburdened either of them with brains. Plainly they did not associate
the attempt to enter the house with the murder. The impression they
gave was that they thought a mere alarm of burglary very small beer
when compared with an actual murder. Miss Clara told them that while
she and I were talking, we heard the sound of falling glass below,
that I had gone down and had seen a man's face at a broken window. She
explained the circumstances which prevented me from following him, and
added that I believed the face to be that of a man respecting whom I
had laid information at Scotland Yard that very morning.
The sergeant and the constable listened to Miss Clara's statement
without excitement, and when she had made an end of it expressed a
wish to see the conservatory, the broken window and the garden, made
a few notes, took my name and address, accepted readily the glass of
whisky and water which Miss Clara suggested, but declined with equal
readiness the half-crown which the same lady, by way of compensation
for the trouble to which she had put them, endeavoured to press into
their hands, and remarking that they had done no more than their duty,
wished us good-night and so departed.
Then I turned to my hostess and unfolded my own plans.
"To tell the honest truth, Miss Carleton," I said, "I was not at all
anxious to be mixed up in this new development. I shall have more than
enough advertisement at the inquest, which is to be held to-morrow, on
the three bodies found off Canvey, and if I am called as a witness at
the inquest which will have to be held on the body of young Grant--the
police and the public will begin to think my connection with both
murders somewhat suspicious. If I were to have followed my inclinations
I should have pretended that I was anxious to learn more of the
circumstances of young Grant's murder, and should have asked you to let
me slip out to see if I could pick up any news, so as to be out of the
way when the police called. But a murder, a brutal murder, has been
committed, and though I am still smarting from the undeserved snubbing
I received when I called at Scotland Yard this morning, I should feel
that I was behaving not only like a bad citizen, but as little less
than a criminal, were I to keep back anything which would assist the
police in their search. And now, may I get on to something else which
I very much wish to say? The fact that the face I saw at the broken
window was that of the Dumpling, is to me very significant. It is, you
must admit, a strong confirmation of the theories I have formed, and of
which I have already told you. Why did I watch Grant's house? Because
if the Dumpling believed Grant to be alive, I was tolerably sure he
would lose no time in putting Grant out of the way. What was the result
of my watching? This--that I found someone was watching Grant's house,
and not only Grant's house, but this house as well. Then came the
question, Why was he watching this house? I knew from Parker that the
Dumpling had planned to kidnap certain millionaires, and to hold them
to ransom. Hearing on inquiry that your brother was a millionaire, I
thought it not unlikely that it was he who was to have been kidnapped
last night. I think so still, but I am inclined to believe that my
appearance at the opium den upset the calculations of the conspirators,
and so prevented them from carrying out their plans. They are still
watching this house, however. Why? Because they are waiting for your
brother's return so that they may learn his movements, and lay their
plans accordingly.
"Then came the murder of young Grant. It may have been, or it may not
have been, the work of the Dumpling and his accomplices. Personally, I
haven't a moment's doubt that it was so. While all the neighbourhood is
hunting for the murderer, a man tries to remove a pane of glass in your
conservatory. Who is this man? Is he a burglar who, with no connection
whatever with the murder, has chanced to choose this particular night
to break into your house? I don't think so. He could hardly have
failed to hear that a murder had just been committed in your immediate
neighbourhood, and if so, would he be fool enough to select the very
night when he knows the police will be wide awake and on the watch?
Not likely. If he had been an ordinary burglar, he would have had his
diamond with him, and would have cut out, not broken, that pane of
glass. The man who broke the glass was a fugitive, and in desperate
straits.
"Possibly he thought that at this hour of the night no one would be
likely to come into the conservatory, and that he could lie in hiding
till the hue and cry had passed. Possibly he hoped to slip through the
house unobserved, and so make his way into the street from the front,
in order to disarm suspicion. A man who had just committed a murder was
not likely to walk boldly out of the front door of such a house as this.
"But why did the Dumpling hit upon this particular house? Was it by
chance, and because it was the first which came handy when he managed
to evade his pursuers by scaling a wall and lying in hiding, while they
went by? I don't think so. That he did escape by scaling a wall I have
very little doubt; but I believe that he made his way to the house
deliberately, and with set intention. It is quite clear to me that he
has designs of some sort upon this house or upon its master. Even if
the design were no more than a burglary, you may be tolerably sure that
so clever a criminal as he doesn't attempt to burgle a house without
first acquainting himself with the position of the different rooms,
and all the difficulties which would be presented in getting in and in
getting out. My belief is that the Dumpling chose this house for his
hiding-place deliberately. Upon this house, for some reason of his own,
he is keeping a watch, and it is from this house that I must set my
counter-watch for him. I have a strange presentiment that it will not
be long before we shall see him here again. Someone--something--there
is in this house upon whom, or upon which, he has designs. It may be
its master; it may be only its master's money. To-night, if you will be
so good, so very good, Miss Carleton, as to trust me thus far, I want
to conceal myself in the garden. If nothing comes of it, no harm is
done. If any attempt is made to enter, I shall be there to frustrate it
and to give the alarm. You perhaps think my request a strange as well
as a foolish one. But listen. Whether the man, looking in at the broken
window-pane of the conservatory, recognised me--whether he even saw
me at all, I do not know. But I saw him, and for one second's space,
before the white face of him disappeared, I not only saw him, but
looked him full in the eyes. And in that second I saw something else.
As in a dream-tableau, I saw that same man creeping stealthily, and at
the darkest, deadest hour of the night, towards the same window, and
through the same garden."