"THE FIRE THAT SLAYS IN THE DARK"
A swift run of about fifteen minutes brought them to the residence of
the Montelet family. It was a fine place standing in spacious and
well-kept grounds, and by the involuntary upward look of young Montelet,
as they swept round past one of the wings, Cleek knew that this must
contain the ill-fated gallery wherein had reposed the "Eye of
Ashtaroth." In that brief second his trained eye had noted the bare wall
with its clear thirty-foot drop from the nearest barred windows, and
that the sharply pointed roof and entire absence of chimney precluded
any possibility of either thief or murderer entering from the outside.
But he made no comment, and two minutes later found him being introduced
to the late Lady Montelet's French companion, Marie Vaudrot. She was
short and petite, with dark, velvety brown eyes, which glanced in mute
question from one face to the other, and betrayed to Cleek that she was
in deadly fear of the discovery of some secret. What secret it would be
his business to find out.
"She knows more than she has told, evidently," was his immediate mental
comment as he noticed her start of dismay when, having swung on his
heel, he announced his desire to see the body of Lady Montelet where it
lay, and just as it had been discovered in the miniature temple.
But this desire was heartily approved by both Miss Gwynne and Mr.
Montelet, and the little party speedily were on their way along
corridors and up stairs, until at last they reached the fatal room.
"As you see, the door itself is of steel," whispered young Montelet as
he fitted the key into the lock and let it swing inward. "My dear father
chose this room on purpose, and had every inch covered with steel
plates. These in their turn have been covered with tapestries and
objects of art, as you see."
Cleek did see, for his eyes were comprehensively taking in the strange
scene before him. The room was practically a replica of an Assyrian
temple, supported at one end by two fluted columns between which could
be seen the figures of the Assyrian bull gods, dedicated to
Assur-bani-pal and Ishtar, or Ashtaroth. Sombre and inscrutable, they
seemed to gaze down in contempt on the little group huddled before the
stone steps which led up to an altar on the top of which twinkled a
little flame. Just below it stood a marble pedestal, with a shining
engraved steel case on the top, and from the glass panel surmounting it
Cleek guessed that this had been the home of the vanished Fire Opal.
He gazed from this pedestal round the walls, hung with priceless
tapestries, then to the floor carpeted by Oriental rugs that seemed to
reproach them for their profane footsteps.
"Very pretty idea," said he, finally, scratching his head and letting
his mouth gape open stupidly. "Sort of reminds me of Earl's Court, don't
yer know. Pretty little light that, but not much good to see by, eh?"
"No one ever had need to come in at night, Mr. Headland," said young
Montelet, with quiet dignity. "I have never seen it at night, though
neither have I ever seen that little lamp out. As a matter of fact, I
don't suppose I have entered the place half a dozen times since it was
constructed."
"Nor I," put in Miss Gwynne. "I hate it. The very atmosphere reeks of
death and crime." She gave a quick, apprehensive glance about her, and
shivered against Mr. Montelet's shoulder.
Cleek crossed to where a couch, at the end of the room, bore the
shrouded body of Lady Montelet, and drew back the covering with gentle
fingers.
It was evident at a glance that at whatever hour of the night or morning
death had come to her, she had made no preparation for going to sleep;
for though her body was arrayed in a warm dressing-gown, her hair was
elaborately waved and coiffed as it had been during the day.
Cleek bent over it, and began a minute examination of the body, then
said suddenly: "Let me have a little more light, please, Mr. Narkom. It
is somewhat dark here, and in such circumstances----"
He stopped short, sucking in his breath with a curious gasping sound,
and felt eagerly for his magnifying glass. For his eye had been caught
by the slightest of marks on the fingertips of the dead woman. Then he
looked at her lips, and stooping, sniffed vigorously. For a moment he
stood very still, then with a sort of new dignity rose and faced round
on Mr. Montelet, who was watching him with intense eagerness written
upon his countenance.
"Do you know if Lady Montelet had anything to drink previous to her
retirement to this room?" he said abruptly.
It was Mademoiselle Vaudrot who interposed a reply.
"But, yes, m'sieur; she had a cup of black coffee, so that she should
keep awake, and it was I that brought it to her with my own hands. And
my dear, dear lady put it down on this little table. See, this
one"--pointing to a little Persian stool that stood near the left-hand
column--"then she kissed me good-night and locked herself in."
"Locked herself in!" rapped out Cleek. "How, then, was this door opened
in the morning?"
"I opened it," said young Montelet in low tones. "I have a duplicate
key. When we knocked and knocked and called this morning and could get
no answer, I remembered that my father had given me a key to be used in
case of accidents, years ago. No one knew I had it. And then I wired for
Mr. Narkom."
"I see," said Cleek, stroking his chin pensively. Then he added
suddenly: "I've got a book down in the car that I believe might be a bit
of a help. It's a new detective story; nothing like a good story to
refresh one's mind. If you would get it; here's the title, Mr. Narkom,
and exactly where I left it. Run down and get it, there's a good chap."
The "good chap" was out of the room before Mr. Montelet could voice the
protest which shone so plainly in his eyes.
"I think, somehow, that we've all been on a wrong tack. What if the old
lady--her ladyship--took out the stone, and when the pain at her heart
caught her, let the blessed thing drop? Anyhow, I'd like to pull up the
rugs--if you've no objection, Miss Gwynne."
"Not in the slightest," answered that lady quickly. "I'll help you if
you like, and so shall Miss Vaudrot. We'll all search."
Another minute saw the four people on hands and knees, searching and
pulling at the rugs and draperies; and it was thus vainly employed that
Mr. Narkom, flushed and excited, found them when he returned.
"Did you find it, Mr. Narkom?" inquired Cleek, jumping briskly to his
feet, his example followed by the other three.
"Rather! Just as you said."
"Oh, well, never mind about it now. Shan't want it, after all. I've just
struck another idea." And he crossed over to the marble pedestal.
"What's that?" asked young Montelet, interestedly as he followed Cleek's
beckoning hand.
"I forgot I hadn't examined the blessed pedestal. A ducat to a guinea
that it's hollow, and the beastly stone has slipped down."
As he spoke he plunged his fingers into the casket, to pull them back
with a little cry of excitement. "Yes, there's something loose down
here; hard and shiny it feels. Feel for yourself, Mr. Montelet."
But before the young man could make a move, Miss Vaudrot pushed forward.
"Oh, m'sieur, let me feel!" she cried, and advanced toward the pedestal.
"No, no," said Cleek. "It is not your place, mademoiselle, is it? Come
and see for yourself, Mr. Montelet."
The young man came forward, his face just a little pale; very slowly,
one might say unwillingly, he put out his hand, which was shaking
visibly, then turned to Cleek. But, to his colossal surprise, Cleek was
not looking either at him or the pedestal. With a light of triumph in
his eyes he had stepped back, and all in a moment those who were
watching saw a startling thing occur: They saw Cleek swerve to one side,
heard a sharp clicking sound of snapping steel as he flung himself upon
Miss Laura Gwynne, who had been so intent on watching Hubert Montelet's
movements that she was too bewildered to offer resistance.
"Got you, my Judas of a woman--got you!" they heard Cleek say as, with a
scramble and a snarl, there lay on the floor a biting, clawing,
struggling fury, with a pair of handcuffs on her wrists, and her
triumphant conqueror kneeling by her.
Young Montelet made a dash at him and tore at his detaining arms. His
face was transfigured, furious.
"What do you mean, you fool?" cried he, angrily. "How dare you lay a
finger on this lady! She is my future wife!"
"I hope not, Mr. Montelet"--Cleek swung round and looked at him, then
was on his feet like a flash--"for you, too, would not live long to
enjoy the wealth she has unwillingly endowed you with. No, Miss Gwynne,
the pedestal would not have harmed him, for, see, the light is out!"
The eyes of all were directed to the little flame lamp, which was now
dark.
"It was a clever trick of your father's, Mr. Montelet, to utilize
electricity as 'the fire that knows no heat, and slays in the dark.' It
was still more clever of this young lady to manage to abstract the jewel
in such a way as not to be struck by the current. You found it, didn't
you, Mr. Narkom?" He turned to the Superintendent, who plunged his hand
into his pocket and drew forth a cake of yellow toilet soap in which was
embedded a reddish-yellow stone. This he handed over to his ally.
Holding it up, Cleek let the light flash through it, till it looked a
veritable "eye" of wrath.
Young Montelet looked at it with white, haggard face. The awakening had
been too much of a shock.
"But I don't understand," said he, drearily. "Does it mean that Laura
_stole_ the stone?"
"Stole! Aye, and committed murder for it, too; though whether she
actually killed the other victims I cannot say. Possibly they touched
the stone's resting place which was protected by a very heavy electric
current. In the case of a person whose heart was already weak, probably
it would be sufficient to kill. I guessed it was by the means of
electricity when I saw the flame lamp that never went out, and noted
Miss Laura Gwynne's rubber soled and heeled shoes, which she had
inadvertently put on again this morning. I expect the whole altar part
may be rendered active with electricity if the truth be known, and that
kept me away from it--while the current was on. Mr. Narkom disconnected
it while he was downstairs.
"What's that, Mr. Narkom? Why didn't I suspect Miss Vaudrot here? Oh,
for many reasons. First, because if she had only been here for a few
months she could not have been responsible for the other deaths;
secondly, when I got you all kneeling down on the floor, I could see
only Miss Gwynne was wearing rubber-protected shoes--which I had noticed
down at the inn."
"At the inn! But how, Mr. Headland?"
"Cleek for a change, Mr. Montelet!"
"Cleek! Good heavens! Are you the great Cleek?"
"No, merely Cleek, the detective--that's all. Yes, my young friend, when
I stooped to tie up that bootlace of mine I was inspecting feet. That
'gave me to think' as you would say, Miss Vaudrot." He smiled at the
girl, who was watching and listening fascinatedly. "I knew already that
the Apaches were on the track of that stone directly I heard of the
murder of Antoine Duval in Soho while disguised as an Indian. The
different colour of the eyes brought him back to my memory, Mr. Narkom;
and the fate of Celestine Merode showed my guess to be a correct one.
'Miss Gwynne' here is probably connected with the gang, and not only
managed to send the man, who was their first emissary, away
empty-handed, so that he should be killed by the gang for failure, but
obviously intended to keep the stone herself. Had she not left the
traces of the soap on the casket, I should not have known where it was
actually hidden. Of course, it might have been removed; but I was
right."
"But you said she had poisoned my dear mother?" cried Mr. Montelet.
"And so she had. There were just the slightest traces of concentrated
amylene hydrate on her lips. Probably administered in the coffee,
dropped in while Lady Montelet was locking the door, by someone else who
knew of the secret opening as well as Miss Vaudrot."
An exclamation burst from the lips of all present.
"The secret opening!" cried young Montelet, as the girl sank down in a
crumpled heap. "Good heavens! man, you are mad. Where is there such an
opening?"
"Here," said Cleek, crossing the room and tapping the left-hand pillar.
"I saw the marks when I got near, and as I thought Miss Vaudrot was
taking pains to hide it, I had to wait and see whether she knew, too, of
the electric guard over the jewel. Even Lady Montelet could not have
known about this for her fingertips showed traces of having been
subjected to a shock. Miss Vaudrot cleared herself by being the first to
volunteer to search in the pedestal. But why did you seek to conceal the
other entrance, mademoiselle?"
A burning flush surged over the pale face.
"I was afraid less someone else should be accused, m'sieur," she said,
naïvely. "I heard a sound in the night, and I went down the corridor;
but all was quiet, so I returned to my own room. But in the morning I
thought all sorts of silly things, and I kept silence in case--in
case----" Her voice broke, and the rest of the sentence went by default.
"In case Mr. Hubert might get involved, eh?" finished Cleek, softly,
with one of his curious one-sided smiles. "Your ideas of justice,
mademoiselle, are common to your sex. Ah, well! I think that is all, Mr.
Narkom. And as you disconnected the current downstairs, I should advise
that this room be locked up. The police can take away that wretch there.
Come, Mr. Narkom; the riddle is solved, and I think I shall get an hour
up the river, after all."
Without vouchsafing another look toward the sullen figure of the woman
or at young Montelet, who was gazing into the face of Mademoiselle Marie
Vaudrot with a new look in his eyes, Cleek walked from the Assyrian
gallery in which for a brief time longer would shine the "Eye of
Ashtaroth." Two minutes later the limousine was flying at a
mile-a-minute clip riverward, where waited Dollops and the launch and
the blue sky above--with a brief hour in which all the crime and
sordidness of the world could be blotted out.