"PINS AND NEEDLES"
Twenty minutes later he presented himself once more at the back door,
and asked in scathing accents for Mr. Jarvis, dangling the keys of the
wine-cellar in one careless hand.
That gentleman appeared to him, changed for his evening duties in the
dining-room, and with one eye upon the clock, clapped him upon the
shoulder and guffawed into his face.
"Blinkin' idiot!" thought Dollops, as he grinned back. "Might er
frightened me into foamin' at the mouth like a bloomin' 'oss, he might."
Then, aloud: "Nice practical joke ter play upon a feller, eh, Mr.
Jarvis? Nah! if I'd been sufferin' wiv me nerves and 'avin' calisthenics
wot's so fashionable just at presint, you could of sent me to my
coffin--strite."
"But you're alive an' kickin' now, me 'earty!" returned Jarvis, with
another guffaw, "an' lookin' in the pink, I must s'y. What about them
bottles of port?--or didn't yer stop ter look into the wine-cellar?
Didn't bring 'em up, I notice."
"No." Dollops's smile was catching. "But I nearly brought up sumthink
else, I kin tell yer--an' that's me 'eart, for it were a-sittin' in me
mouf like as though it would choke me! I've 'arf a mind ter cut you out
of me will, Mr. Jarvis. But, seriously speakin', where's my gentleman?
I've a note fer 'im if 'e's engaged, and if not, I'd like ter see 'im.
Say it's important."
"News from the Front, eh? Fahnd out 'oo committed that there crime last
night, I don't think," said Jarvis, with his heavy humour. "Well, I'll
send along Minnie after him. Dinner's bein' prepared, and no doubt your
boss'll be dressin'. If 'e ain't nosin' round after clues, with that
there fat Superintendent. Wot's 'e, anyway?--your Mr. Deland? Amachoor
detective?"
Dollops nodded.
"That's the line. Tell 'im I've got summink ter say about his blue
trousers wot I've been a-pressing at the Three Fishers. An' it's most
important."
"Oh!--very. Blue trousers is an important matter when a man's been
murdered in 'is own 'ome, I take it. Orl right, orl right; don't lose
yer temper, sporty. I'll see to it at once. Like ter go up to 'is room,
would yer?"
"No. Rather wait 'ere for 'is message."
"Very well. Sit down and make yerself comfortable, and no doubt there'll
be a bite er dinner fer yer, if you're patient. Won't say 'no' to a
nibble er chicken, I lay, follered with a dash er Peach Melba?... I
thought not."
So saying, the garrulous Jarvis proceeded kitchenward to summon Minnie
and entrust her with the message for Mr. Deland, and then returned to
the servants' hall and passed the rest of the time with Dollops, talking
of London--a subject which appeared to be dear to both their hearts, and
which certainly gave them something in common with each other.
Minnie returned in ten minutes bearing a little note upon her silver
salver, which she presented to the smiling Dollops with a mock bow and a
courtesy. She was a pert little country thing, with a trick of the eye
that took a man's heart.
"'Ere's a note fer yer lordship," she said smartly. "Your gentleman says
'e's sorry 'e can't get down, and it don't matter about the blue
trousies a particle. And 'e don't need you this evenin', so that you kin
explore the countryside if yer want to. Wot say to a little walk, Mr.
Ginger-'Air? It's my evenin' out, and I don't mind if I do."
Dollops winked and nudged her with his elbow.
"You're a pretty piece, _you_ are, and if we was in Lunnon I'd be takin'
you to the pickshurs," he returned with a grin. "But I've an appointment
rahnd about ten o'clock up in the village. I'm yer man till then,
Saucer-Eyes. No, Mr. Jarvis, a bit of dinner, as you s'y, wouldn't go
quite amiss. I'm that 'ungry me insides rattle."
And while Jarvis was carving the chicken for the servants' hall, and
giving him a generous portion, and Minnie was off to her room to prink
up and change for the evening, Dollops opened his master's letter and
scanned the few lines written upon it.
"Be under the big gate by twelve o'clock to-night," it said. "Hear all
news then. Burn this."
So when Jarvis returned Dollops was lighting a cigarette from a twist of
note-paper, which, upon sight of the big plate of steaming-hot chicken
that awaited him, he promptly threw into the fire, watching
absent-mindedly until it had become a charred fragment, and then set to
upon the feast with a vengeance.
* * * * *
Meanwhile Cleek, dinner at last over--a meal passed in sober silence,
with the shadow of that dead Thing still hanging over the diners and
wiping the joy of life from their faces--went with Mr. Narkom out upon
the terrace, cigars alight, and discussed with him the probabilities and
possibilities of the whole affair, comparing notes with the
Superintendent and jotting down in his business-like way any ideas that
occurred to him as they talked together, until his cuff was covered over
with pencil scrawls and the furrow between his eyes had deepened
considerably.
Slowly the evening wore itself away, the presence of the silent-watching
constabulary in the house making all friendliness between hosts and
unwanted guests a matter of impossibility. Women and men drew together
in little knots, discussing the affair in low-pitched voices, and even
Maud Duggan's eyes held something of accusation now when they dwelt upon
Cleek's face, so that at length he took Mr. Narkom by the arm and drew
him toward the door.
"Come, old friend," he said quietly. "We are intruders here, you and I.
These other poor folk cannot be at rest in our presence. Come along to
the library once more, and have a look about it. The place draws me, I
must say. For I still believe that the secret of the whole terrible
thing lies there. To-morrow afternoon is to be Coroner's Inquest--a
hateful proceeding, to say the least of it--and I've given myself just
that time to solve the mystery."
"Cinnamon! And you don't imagine you're going to, do you, Cleek?"
returned Mr. Narkom excitedly, as they passed down the passage together
and entered the room. "That's rather a tall order, I must say. Seems as
if we'd scoured this room from end to end."
"And yet, from what I heard from Master Cyril a short while ago, that is
exactly what we have _not_ done," rejoined Cleek, dropping to his knees
and examining the wall plug which had interested him before. Meanwhile,
Mr. Narkom strolled to the other side of the room, leaned against the
spinning wheel in an attitude of ease, and then ... as Cleek's fingers
began to trace an invisible path along the edge of the carpet, the
Superintendent gave out a sudden little cry and jumped as though he had
been shot.
"Eh?--what's the matter, old friend?" Cleek was on his feet in an
instant, for the Superintendent had gone a little pale, and was running
his hands up and down his back in a curious fashion.
"Pins and needles! Funniest sensation I've ever come across. Brrh! Just
like a slight electric shock."
Electric shock! Cleek was beside him in an instant, his face suddenly
alight, and his hands searching over the instrument, here, there, and
everywhere. Electric shock, eh? That was peculiar, to say the least of
it.
Then he stopped suddenly and sucked in his breath, and, whipping round
upon his heel, clapped the Superintendent upon the shoulder.
"And it takes _you_, after all, to lead us to the actual secret!" he
said affectionately, smiling into Mr. Narkom's astonished face. "For
here's the thing in a nutshell. What a blind fool I've been all the
time, old friend. Here's the murderer, the perpetrator of last night's
crime--the mechanical means of doing away with human life in such a
perplexing manner. Here--right here. See?"
"What the--what are you driving at, my dear chap?" ejaculated the
Superintendent excitedly, stooping at the pressure of Cleek's arm upon
his shoulder. "This--spinning-wheel thing? You don't mean to tell me
that _It_ murdered Sir Andrew, do you? Because I'm not fool enough to
believe _that_ story--and not dunderhead enough to be taken in by a
practical joke. What _do_ you mean, old chap? I'm on pins and needles to
know."
"And it's just those particular pins and needles of yours which have
found the thing out," returned Cleek in the sharp staccato of
excitement. "Look here! It's as easy as A B C--once you've got the hang
of it. And that sensation of yours _was_ an electric shock all right.
And it was just this spinning wheel which gave it to you. The thing's
wired--see? Devilishly well done, too, and disguised very successfully.
But here it is. Under the wheel. And see that funny box-like thing
attached, which looks as though it belonged to a part of the
machinery?--and doesn't. That's a battery, by all that's good! Now, what
the dickens does that battery do, I'd like to know?... 'A whirring
sound'--'hum-hum-hum!' That's how they described it to me this morning,
do you remember? Gad! And this is the thing that produced that
supernatural sound, then! Just a touch of a switch somewhere, and the
thing sets in motion. Now let's follow this wiring along to its
destination, and that will tell us a good deal."
He traced the line of palish flexible wire--so nearly the colour of the
old wood as to be hardly discernible unless one really knew of its
presence, round the wheel, and down on to the floor--the thing stood a
mere matter of inches from the window-sill--and then disappeared up
through a narrow piece of oak-coloured woodwork which was entirely
unnoticed from the panelling it covered, until it reached the
window-ledge and ended at the extreme right-hand corner of the middle
window, and vanished in a cluster of ivy which clung about the outside
of it, sending its tendrils right up to the edge of the sill itself.
Mr. Narkom followed the thing with fascination, poking a finger here and
there to help discern its threadlike and imperceptible progress, and was
almost as quick as Cleek in leaping out through the low sill to the
flower-bed below upon which those tell-tale footprints had made such a
strong impression. Then, of a sudden, they both stopped and stared
blankly at each other. For the end of the thing lay beneath the ivy
covering, in a little home-made switch which, touched by the finger,
obviously set the whole contraption in motion.
Cleek hopped back into the room to see that no one was about, but the
constable in charge stood outside the door, not in it, and they had
closed that door carefully behind them upon entrance. Then he leaned out
over the top of the window-sill and spoke softly to Mr. Narkom.
"Put your finger upon the switch when I say 'Go,'" he said in a tense
whisper, "and I'll stay inside here and watch how the thing works. Now
then.... _Go!_"
Mr. Narkom applied his finger forthwith, while to Cleek within came a
soft whirring, drumming sound, and then--an almost imperceptible "click"
and--the most amazing of all these amazing matters came instantly to
pass! For as he leapt out of the path of it, led by some mysterious,
intuitive impulse, a bullet sped rapidly past his ear, and lodged itself
in the woodwork, just a fraction of an inch below the spot where that
other bullet had lodged, and--the secret was out at last!