"GEORGE HEADLAND" KEEPS AN APPOINTMENT
On the morrow the village of Valehampton knew that the vicar of St.
Saviour's was entertaining two gentlemen, Mr. John Williams and Mr.
Philip Barch, who had come down from town by the last train the
preceding night and were to stop with him over the week-end; and, being
informed that Mr. Barch was a gentleman of poor health, it was not at
all surprised that he should make an early call on Doctor Forsyth.
It did not, however, know that at the time that call was made the doctor
was entertaining Mr. Justice of the Peace Howard and Mr. Chief Constable
Naylor, and that Mr. Barch remained in close council with all three for
upward of an hour, afterward making a personal call upon His Grace the
Duke of Essex and spending yet another hour at the Castle.
When that hour was over he went back to the vicarage, every link was
fitted into its place, and the chain complete at last.
It was about twenty minutes past ten that evening that Mr. James
Overton, answering a hand-delivered note, was shown into the vicarage
drawing-room, and found himself in the presence of a most distinguished
company, made up of the Duke of Essex, the Marquis of Uppingham, Captain
Weatherley, and two gentlemen who were alluded to as Mr. John Williams
and Mr. Philip Barch.
Mr. Overton, who had been over at Braintree ever since noon on business
for the duke, and was, of course, still wearing his ordinary riding
clothes, apologized for his appearance on the score that he had not had
time to change.
"I found Your Grace's man waiting for me with your note when I arrived
at the Lodge," he said; "and, of course, came on immediately, as
requested. But surely there must be some error--the thing seems so
impossible. You said in the note that the man, George Headland, would be
here by eleven o'clock to offer a solution of the mystery, and that
simply can't be. I saw him myself over at Earl's Colne as I rode through
this afternoon, he and his deaf companion. They were sitting outside an
inn drinking stout and smoking their pipes as contentedly as you please;
and when I stopped and asked them what on earth they were doing there,
Headland told me that their effects had not come down from London as
they expected, and they were taking a holiday until they did. As I came
back I learned that they were strolling about Pebmarsh as late as seven
o'clock this evening, and had been over in that section of this county
pretty much all day. How can it be possible for them to have discovered
anything _here_?"
"That I can't tell you, I'm sure, Overton," replied the duke. "I merely
know that he sent word to me through the vicar that if I would be here
at eleven o'clock to-night he would give me a full and clear explanation
of the diabolical affair. It occurred to me at the last moment that you,
probably, would like to hear that explanation with the rest of us, so I
left Roberts to deliver that note as soon as you returned."
"Thank you--it was very kind. Naturally I am very deeply interested; but
I am more mystified than ever when Your Grace tells me that Headland
sent the message through the vicar. Have you then seen the man to-day,
Mr. Saintly?"
"Oh, dear, no. The message came to me through Mr. Philip Barch here."
"Meaning the gentleman who is your guest, sir?"
"Meaning me--yes, Mr. Overton," remarked Cleek. "We met quite
accidentally while I was out this morning. Personally, I must admit that
I haven't very much faith in our actually seeing the man to-night."
"You couldn't be blamed for not having much faith in the man's ability,
I am sure, Mr. Barch. To tell you the truth, sir, I have very little
myself. I never even heard of him until yesterday. He seemed a stupid
sort of fellow."
Here Captain Weatherley chimed in:
"Judging from his appearance when he was pointed out to me, I should say
that he was nothing less than an idiot!" was his contribution.
"With the odds on the idiot," supplemented Cleek. "Still, let's give him
his chance. We shall know the best or the worst in half an hour, Captain
Weatherley. Eleven o'clock will tell the tale."
And eleven o'clock did tell it.
Cleek, to pass away the tedium of waiting, had taken his seat before the
vicarage organ and was deep in a selection from Handel when, all of a
sudden, a clanging noise broke through the outer stillness and all the
night echoed to the clash of the discordant bells.
"Hallo! There's our friend the ghost starting in with his nightly
jamboree," he said, screwing round on the organ stool and rising, as the
sound of hasty feet coming up the vicarage steps and along the vicarage
hall followed on the peal of bells. "He's a prompt beggar to-night, that
spook--a very prompt beggar indeed."
"But no prompter than that Headland fellow," exclaimed Captain
Weatherley, catching the sound of the running footsteps and jumping to
his feet. "Here he comes now, by Jove!--and it's two minutes short of
the hour."
In his excitement, he jumped to the door and whirled it open, and almost
in the same instant there entered the room, in a state of breathless
excitement, no less a person than Mr. Justice of the Peace Howard, with
Chief Constable Naylor close upon his heels.
"They've started--don't you hear them?" he cried, looking up at Cleek.
"That was to be the signal, wasn't it? Shall Naylor give the word?"
"By all means," replied Cleek, calmly. "Start them going, Mr. Naylor,
and start them going _hard_!"
Mr. Naylor's response was not given in words. Facing about instantly, he
ran down the hall and out into the forecourt of the vicarage, blowing a
police whistle, and shouting at the top of his voice: "In with you, my
boys! Get 'em."
Almost instantly there was a sound of rushing feet, a banging and a
smashing of hammers on wood, the crash of a door going down, and the
sound of a dozen voices crying lustily, "Come out of it! Come out of
it!" voices which soon dwindled off in the distance.
The duke and Mr. Overton were on their feet at once. There could be no
mistake about the direction whence these sounds came. A force of men,
acting upon a given signal, had made an attack upon the Castle cottages.
"Oh, don't be alarmed, Duke. Don't be alarmed, Mr. Overton," said Cleek,
coming up with them as master and man, realizing the state of affairs,
moved hastily to the nearest window and tried vainly to peer through the
intervening trees. "It is nothing very serious--only a small detachment
of police, aided by some of your own gamekeepers, paying their respects
to Mr. and Mrs. John Hurdon. It will be over soon, and the interesting
party will take a turn at oakum-picking with this gentleman--dear,
clever man!"
Here his hands reached over quickly toward those of the land-steward;
there was a jingle and a click, and by the time Overton became aware
that something cold had touched his wrists, the handcuffs were locked
and the thing was done.
He gave a queer sort of cry--half gasp, half howl--and lurched backward
in a panic.
"In the name of God----" he began, but got no farther, for Cleek's hand
was on his shoulder and Cleek's voice was saying soothingly:
"Oh, fie, my friend! So tender a heart should be mated with a reverent
tongue. And if you must cry out, surely there is another name more
fitting to the occasion? But why cry at all? You cannot alter matters.
It is fated, you see, that none of you is ever to go up that underground
tunnel or touch one article of that splendid gold service, even though
Captain Paul Sandringham is dead and, as Carstairs said, 'It makes one
the less to reckon with!' Sit down, Mr. Overton, and make yourself
comfortable until Mr. Naylor comes back to take care of you. And let me
take this opportunity to thank you for our very pleasant walk up from
the station yesterday. Do you know, I always did like that ghost story
from the time when I first read it in a fiction magazine, and it lost
none of its charm through your telling. Oh, yes--I'm the same
person--I'm the George Headland you told it to. The one your sister and
the gypsy woman have been following all day is a fake. I expect he and
his mate have rounded on them by this time and have taken them into
custody, and---- Fainted, by jupiter! Ah, they are a weak-nerved lot,
this sneaking kind, when it comes to the final corner, and it's the wall
behind them and the law in front. Pardon? Oh, yes, Marquis! Oh, yes,
Captain Weatherley. That was the game: tunnelling from the Hurdons'
cottage to the Castle to get at the Essex gold service which they knew
would be brought down from the bank for Lady Adela's wedding; and they
have been at it for eleven months. Captain Paul Sandringham's was the
mind that conceived the thing--how I know this I'll tell you in due
time--and he planned the scheme with this fellow a year ago in Ostend
when first the duke made public his intention to marry again. He has
been over, too, off and on, and taken an actual hand in the work, has
the late captain, and I dare say he would have been over again to-morrow
night to take part in the final act of the little drama if the curtain
had not been rung down on all the dramas for him the day before
yesterday. Oh! he was a clever schemer, was Captain Paul Sandringham,
and he neglected nothing. That is the strongest point in the whole
armour of the educated criminal: the brains to reason and the wit to
provide for all contingencies. You cannot tunnel the earth for a
distance of ninety-six yards without having a deal of refuse to dispose
of, you know; therefore, the prophecy had to take in the question of a
choked river, and there had to be phantom wheels to account for the
vehicle which conveyed it to the stream by night; there had to be those
bells which are ringing now to account for the supernatural agency, and
there had to be a curse on the adjoining cottage to prevent----"
Here he stopped--his ear caught by a confused murmur of voices rising
above the clashing of the bells.
"Let us go and see the rest of the interesting collection," he said. "I
think the raid is over, and Mr. Naylor's fishers are pulling in the
nets."
He turned and walked briskly out of the vicarage and, taking a short cut
across the churchyard, made his way to the curve of the road, the bells
still clashing out discordantly as he passed through the lich-gate and
turned to the Castle cottages--and the duke and the marquis, the captain
and the vicar, and Mr. Maverick Narkom, too, followed close upon his
heels.