A DOUBLE TRAGEDY
Cleek sat forward in his seat suddenly, every nerve alert at this
somewhat startling piece of news. Oho! So Ross Duggan was the only
person possessing an air-pistol--and the laird had been killed by means
of one, shot through the head in a dastardly fashion. Gad! it certainly
wanted looking into! And the moment had been chosen with such precision
that the alteration in that self-same will had never been made, and Ross
Duggan still stood as chief heir to his father's estates!
That was a queer thing--a very queer thing! He flung up his eyebrows and
twitched the corner of his mobile mouth.
"Your _brother_, Miss Duggan? I see. And how long ago was it that he
bought that pistol, may I ask? And for what purpose?"
She gave an uneasy laugh which ended in a little sob that brought a look
of pity to his eyes.
"Oh--ages and ages! Quite a couple of years ago, I think. Ross and a
fellow-officer who was here for the fishing got it together. Ross had
thought of a new idea for killing the big salmon after they had been
played so long, and though exhausted were brought to shore alive.
Everyone laughed at him, of course, and the thing never turned out to be
anything; but Ross's idea was to shoot them as soon after swallowing the
hook as was possible, and the soundless pistol wouldn't frighten the
other fish. It was a ridiculous idea--but Ross imagined it would be more
humane, though not nearly so much sport from the fisherman's point of
view, as you know, Mr. Deland--and he tried it only once. He was teased
out of it after that."
"And the pistol?"
"I really don't know ... what became of it. I never saw it again, and,
in fact, forgot all about it. But of course, Mr. Deland, Ross
couldn't--_couldn't!_--oh, I beg of you, don't think of such a terrible
thing for one instant! Ross adored his father _always_, in spite of the
bad blood between them of later years."
"Quite so. Only, naturally, in the pursuit of duty one must ask all
manner of irrelevant questions. You understand that, Miss Duggan, I
hope? Of course your brother Ross would not think of such a thing. But
if he is the only possessor of an air-pistol, well, naturally,
circumstantial evidence will be rather unpleasant for him--unless
something else turns up. I'd like to see your brother, if you please,
and have a little chat with him. And then he will show me the--your
father, and let me make a little perfunctory examination.... By the way,
how far away is the nearest police-station?"
"A matter of three miles. But the men have motorcycles, and should be
here at any moment. Hark! that's Rhea's bell, isn't it? No doubt they
have already come. Oh, Mr. Deland, _what_ shall I say to them? I don't
feel as though I could face a stranger _now_!"
Cleek laid his hand upon her shoulder as he rose to his feet.
"And you're not going to--have no fear of that," he replied kindly.
"Remember, I represent Scotland Yard, Miss Duggan. This thing lies in my
hands, and I am in command of it. I shall see the police-sergeant and
make all necessary arrangements. The formalities will have to be
observed, of course, for to-night, at any rate. No one must leave this
house under any pretext whatever--neither servant nor guest. All doors
and windows must be locked, and I shall set a guard about the place. But
that will be my duty to attend to--not yours. So go and rest a little,
if you can--and emulate your worthy stepmother (who, by the way, I want
to see as soon as possible), after you have taken me to your brother,
and we have had a little talk together.... Would you mind conducting me
to him now?"
She bowed her head dumbly, and passed out in front of him, down the
long narrow passage with its armoured figures standing out in niches cut
into the wall and its air of brooding mystery which so well fitted this
tragic affair and lent still further colour to it. At last they reached
the library. At the door of it she paused, hesitated, put her hand upon
the handle of it, and then drew back with an involuntary shiver.
"I can't--I can't!" she said brokenly. "It's asking too much to go in
and see him now--not until he has been placed as he ought to be, poor
dear old Daddy! But Ross is in there with him, Mr. Deland. So if you
just knock, and then enter, and tell him who you are, that will be all
right.... Those men are coming in, I know. I can hear them at the door
now. Oh, please, please don't let me see them-- I don't feel as if I
could!"
"And you shan't--have no fear of that," he replied. "So be off with you
as quick as you can, and lie down for half an hour, at any rate. And if
I have need of you I'll send someone along with a message.... Ah!
they're coming.... Good evening, Sergeant. You've been exceedingly
prompt in coming along, I must say. And brought four men with you, too?
That's good. We shall want 'em in this place. There's been a murder
here--old Sir Andrew Duggan has been done to death in a mysterious
manner--shot and stabbed at the same time. I've not yet looked at the
body, but shall do so presently. Mr. Narkom will be down in the
morning."
"Mr. Narkom? The Chief Superintendent, eh? Then--then may I ask who
_you_ are, sir?" responded Sergeant Campbell, in a deep, ringing voice
which exactly fitted the huge figure of him.
Cleek bowed. He looked keenly into the gray eyes under the beetling
brows, came to the rapid conclusion that here was a man who could keep
his tongue in leash if required, and then with a glance over the four
police-constables standing behind him, handed him a card upon which he
had scribbled one word, and then watched the effect of it with dawning
amusement as the knowledge soaked into the Inspector's consciousness.
"Name's Deland," he said with a knowing wink, speaking in the nick of
time, before the Sergeant in his astonishment and admiration for this
man who stood before him, and whose name was a household word upon the
tongue of every policeman the world over, had quite given the show away
to the rest of his followers. "Arthur Deland. You've probably heard of
me, Sergeant, if you follow the doings of Scotland Yard at all. Came up
here under Mr. Narkom's orders to handle another case, and then
dropped--_plop!_--upon this one. Better come along now. I want you to
set a couple of men before the library door, where the thing took
place--nothing to be moved, of course, or touched in any way, until Mr.
Narkom arrives--and then send another of your men back to fetch ten more
reserves, and stand guard all round the house from the outside. Tell 'em
to report to you every half hour, and if there's anything doing bring it
along to me at once. You understand?"
"Yessir. Certainly, sir."
"Then come along."
He led the way through the long hall, past the gaping butler to whom
this stranger, whom his master had entertained at lunch, and who was now
so mysteriously in charge of affairs, seemed suddenly to have assumed a
principal part in the affair, and to be showing his "nerve" in a good
many ways; and with a quick order to him to see that all doors and
windows were securely bolted and locked, so that no one could get in or
out of the house save at the instigation of the Law and the Law's
minions, Cleek passed on to that chamber of death where the old laird
lay, and turning the handle softly, led the way in.
There was a light shining in the centre of the room from an
old-fashioned lamp which stood upon the desk-top and sent a soft
effulgence round and about it that lay like a halo upon the peace of
that silent place. At the desk sat Ross Duggan, head in hands, shutting
out the sight of the Thing that faced him in all the majesty of death,
that Thing which so short a time back had been his own father, and now
sat huddled forward in a fallen attitude in the swing-back office chair
opposite Ross, transparent hands lying aimlessly upon the desk-top, head
downthrown, jaw dropped, and with a little sinister blackened puncture
in the temple telling the tale of the air-pistol's accurate aim only too
well.
Cleek went up to the desk and laid his hand upon Ross's shoulder. In an
instant the young man sprang to his feet, eyes ablaze, face chalk-white,
startled and not a little displeased at this intrusion upon him and his
dead by a man whom he had met only casually a few hours back, and who
had witnessed that never-to-be-forgotten quarrel between him and his
father which would sear his memory now forever.
"I-- I---- This is hardly the hour and the time, Mr. Deland," he began
in a hushed voice; but Cleek silenced him, the queer little one-sided
smile travelling up his cheek, and his eyes serious and not a little sad
as they rested upon the haggard face of this heir to an unhappy
inheritance.
"That's all right, my dear chap--really," he said in his clear,
low-pitched voice. "You see, my profession happens to be that of a
detective, and I stand at present as official representative of Scotland
Yard. The Sergeant here has come to do his unpleasant duty, and place a
guard over the body. It would be better for you, really, to go and lie
down. After such a terrible shock...."
"I'll go, and gladly!" returned Ross with a grim nod of the head and a
sudden warming of colour in the pale cheeks of him. "It's not been the
pleasantest task sitting here with--him--like that, Mr. Deland. And as
you happen to have jumped up from nowhere and taken matters so entirely
in hand, I'll relinquish my trust. But I didn't somehow like to
leave--him--alone. After what's happened--the strange method of his
death--and all the rest of this ghastly affair, I meant to keep the rest
of the world away from him, if possible, and if the murderer should
chance to come back!"--a sudden light flashed into his eyes and
involuntarily his body stiffened--"then I should be ready for him."
"Spoken like a soldier and a gentleman," said Cleek softly, with a nod
of understanding. "Now I want to have a look at your father, Mr. Duggan.
And I'd like it if you could just find it in your heart to stay here
with me for a moment or two, and acquaint me with the facts. Your sister
has told me the rough outline, and----"
"My sister?" His voice showed the surprise which this news elicited.
"How did you see her, then?"
"That is a long story, which you shall hear some other time. At present
she simply sent for me in a very quick and excellent manner, and I came
at once. The worthy Sergeant and his men followed.... Now, Sergeant,
place your men as I told you, and I'll get on to the business of
examination. I only want to get a rough idea of the true method of
death, and glean what clues I can for Mr. Narkom, who will arrive in the
morning.... And, gad!" He glanced up at the huge clock which was ticking
away the minutes and hours with sonorous voice. "It's getting on that
way now. Now, Sergeant, if you can get one of your men to give me a hand
with the body----"
Speaking, he moved it gently, until it lay half upon the pedestal
desk-top, so that the light shone full upon the ghastly face, and rolled
it tenderly over. There was a thin trickle of blood still oozing thickly
from the left side of the breast, where the fine puncture of some almost
needle-like instrument showed how successfully it had done its horrible
duty. Cleek tore away the coat and waistcoat, stripped back the shirt
from the frail body, and examined the wound through his little glass. In
size it was no more than what might have been caused by a heavy bodkin,
and in depth--so deep that it had no doubt punctured the inner walls of
the heart, and, if successful in this method, caused immediate death to
its victim.
He looked up quickly into Ross's downbent face, his own rather grim.
"A stiletto wound," he gave out in the sharp staccato of excitement.
"See that fine, clean-cut edge? I've seen similar ones in Italy and in
the southern parts of America. The blade's squarish, not flat as in the
cases of most daggers. And it is amazingly sharp. That blow would cause
a death-wound, undoubtedly. But I understand there was a shot fired as
well--from an air-pistol, I imagine, as there was no sound. Now, the
question is, where is that bullet, and from what direction was the shot
fired? That'll tell us a lot."
Ross Duggan's face changed suddenly, as though a shadow had passed over
it.
"That's the question, Mr. Deland," he replied in a tense voice. "If we
could find out that, we could find out a good deal. But why this double
crime should have been committed, Heaven alone can tell. My father had
many enemies--but none who would have stooped to kill him--of that I am
positive. And it is obvious that two have tried to do so. Look, here is
the wound in the temple, just above the left eye. And it has gone clean
through the head. Poor old Dad! Poor, misguided old Dad! How I hate that
woman Paula and all her wiles and ways! If any one's at fault in this
dastardly business, Mr. Deland, you can count upon _her_! Her father
swung for a similar crime (she doesn't know I know that) and if she has
done this terrible thing she, too, shall swing, as he did! Whoever has
done this cruel, wicked thing, Mr. Deland, shall be brought to justice,
if I have to scour the world over for the murderer."
"Ah--who? That is the question, my friend," returned Cleek quietly,
stooping over the bowed white head with its thatch of snowy hair, and
tracing the path of the bullet through it in his mind's eye. "H'm! Went
through here and came out-- Gad! here's the puncture! Right here! So
that somewhere in this room that bullet has lodged itself, and when that
is found we shall have our finger upon the pulse of this dreadful
tragedy more surely than we know.... Heigho! It's two-thirty, and in
this semi-darkness little to be done until the morning sends us its
kindly rays. So we must leave things as they are for the present, and
later go over the whole thing with clear heads and rested minds....
Sergeant, I put you in charge. A man outside of the window there,
please, and another one in this room, and still another outside the
door, and if any one tries to get in or out, blow your whistle and I'll
be with you in a jiffy.... Come, Mr. Duggan. You're looking terribly
white and fagged. Let's have a whisky-and-soda--if you'd be so good as
to extend your hospitality so far--and then I'll make myself a
shake-down in the next room, if you've no objection. I've given orders
for no one to be allowed to leave the house until morning and until
parole is given to do so, so you need have no fear of one of the
murderers escaping."
"I-- I---- What's that you say?" stammered out Ross, swinging round and
looking at Cleek with drawn brows and flashing eyes. "You've given
orders in _my_ house! I say, you know, this is a bit thick; and--and who
the dickens do you think would have done the thing in this place, may I
ask? You're rather overstepping the bounds of common hospitality, Mr.
Deland, in your role of private detective. And I must ask you to leave
the ordering of things to _me_."
"And that, I am afraid, is exactly what I can't do, my friend," replied
Cleek serenely, with a crooked smile. "Simply because, according to your
somewhat one-eyed and one-sided English law, every one is a suspect
until he is proved innocent. You, your sister, your stepmother, even
your fiancee--who, I suppose, is spending the night here with her cousin
Miss Dowd, under the present circumstances as my orders were issued a
little earlier in the evening--every member of this household comes
under the unwilling stigma of a possible perpetrator of this crime."
"Damn it!-- I say--how dare you----"
"We policemen dare everything, Mr. Duggan, because that is our duty, you
know," he responded smoothly. "And, besides, there's one thing more.
Someone here has an air-pistol, and the owner of that has got to be
found. I've an inkling, supplemented by a few words dropped by your
sister, but we'll let that pass. Only, the owner of the air-gun is not
going to escape this house to-night. That's all, I fancy. Sergeant,
good-night. Or, rather, good morning. You'll call me if necessary, won't
you? I shall be in the very next room. And-- Mr. Duggan, if you don't
happen to have that whisky handy, you needn't bother. I've a flask in my
pocket."