Meanwhile, Heyton returned to the Hall; walking with a certain
jauntiness which was not altogether assumed; for the disposal of the
jewel-case had been an immense relief. Some of the servants were now
about, and to her surprise, he wished one of the maids good morning
quite pleasantly; to her surprise, because Heyton's manner to his
inferiors was usually anything but a pleasant one; and, while all the
household was devoted to the Marquess, and would have done anything for
him, his son was unpopular. As he passed along the lower hall, Heyton
glanced at the window he had opened: it had not been shut. He went up
the stairs and, as he entered his dressing-room, hummed the latest comic
song. The breakfast hour at the Hall was half-past nine; the Marquess
was called at half-past eight, but Heyton's valet had orders not to
disturb his master until he rang, and, more often than not, Heyton's
bell did not ring until breakfast was on the table.
Heyton threw himself down on the bed and closed his eyes with the
preposterous idea of getting a little sleep; but he lay and listened,
and presently he heard Miriam's maid knocking at the bedroom door; then
he rose and rang for his man.
"Early this morning, eh, Simcox?" he said. "Been for a swim. Feel jolly
fit. Fact is, we all lie abed too late; I've half a mind to get up for a
bath in the lake every morning."
The valet grinned to himself as he answered respectfully,
"Yes, my lord. Very pleasant in the morning."
When he had half finished dressing, Heyton called to Miriam.
"I say, Miriam, what about a drive this morning? We might go over to
Teynsham."
"I don't know; I'll see," she called back listlessly.
"I'll wear a tweed suit," said Heyton to his man; "I'll have the new
one. And, look here, you tell the tailor to give me a little more room
round the waist. I suppose I must be getting fat, eh, Simcox?"
"Oh, not fat, my lord," murmured Simcox, remonstratingly.
"More--er--comfortable."
When the man had finished with him, Heyton lit a cigarette and leant
back in his chair--as if he were waiting for something.
He had not to wait long.
A cry rang through the house; it was followed by others; there was the
sound of rushing footsteps and voices raised in terror; his door was
flung open and Simcox stood on the threshold, his face white, his eyes
starting; he gaped at his master speechlessly, and Heyton gaped back at
him.
"Well, what the devil is it?" he asked at last, his face red, his lips
quivering. "What do you mean by rushing in, in this--idiotic fashion?"
"Oh, my lord!" gasped Simcox. "Something's--something's happened. Oh,
it's awful! It's the Marquess's man--Mr. Jenkins--he's just been to call
his lordship and--and--oh, my lord, it's 'orrible!"
Heyton rose, gripping the back of the chair.
"What do you mean?" he demanded. "What the devil are you talking about?"
"Oh, my lord, the Marquess is dead!" stammered Simcox.
"Dead!" echoed Heyton, his face livid, his whole form shaking as if with
palsy.
"Well, Jenkins thinks so, my lord. If so, it's--murder."
"Murder!" echoed Heyton, his voice again hoarse.
"Yes, my lord. There's been a burglary; the safe, the safe in his
lordship's dressing-room, has been broken into. Jenkins found his
lordship lying on the ground--there was blood----"
The man's voice had risen by this time and it brought Miriam to the
door. She looked from one to the other, the nameless terror she felt
showing in her eyes.
"What is it?" she demanded.
"Go--go away, Miriam," said Heyton, hoarsely. "Go back to your own
room."
Disregarding his injunctions with a kind of contempt, she advanced and
addressed herself to the terror-stricken valet.
"What is it, Simcox?" she asked. "I heard you say----"
"Yes, my lady, it's true," faltered Simcox, wiping the sweat from his
face. "I helped Jenkins carry the Marquess into his bedroom. If his
lordship isn't dead, he's as good as dead."
Swiftly, without a moment's hesitation, Miriam went past them to the
Marquess's bedroom, thrusting her way through a crowd of horrified,
gaping servants. The Marquess lay on the bed where they had placed him.
The blood had ceased flowing, but it had stained one side of his face,
had reddened a greater part of the old-fashioned night-shirt which he
wore. He lay quite still, his eyes closed. She stood and looked at him,
frozen with horror; then she became conscious that her husband was
standing beside her.
"Is he dead?" she asked, almost inaudibly. "Who--who has done this?"
At the question, he drew back a little, and lifted his eyes from the
reddened face to hers.
"What do you mean?" he demanded, almost shouted. "It's pretty plain, I
should think. Didn't you hear what Simcox said? There's been a burglary;
the--the safe's broken open----"
"The safe----?" she said, unconscious that she had spoken.
For a moment her eyes met his; then hers sank and she shuddered.
"Has anyone gone for the doctor?" she asked in a low voice.
"Yes, my lady," said Jenkins. "I've sent a groom for Doctor Scott; but
I'm afraid----"
"Give me some water," she said tonelessly.
They brought her some and a sponge, and with a hand that was unnaturally
calm, she wiped the blood from the old man's face and neck.
"Here, look here!" said Heyton, hesitatingly. "Do you think you ought to
touch him, do anything till the doctor comes?"
She did not look at him, and continued her pitiful ministration. Heyton
drew back from the bed, his eyes withdrawing themselves from his
father's face slowly, as if fascinated.
"Has anything gone from the safe?" he asked.
"I don't know, my lord. I didn't wait to look," said Jenkins in a hushed
voice.
Heyton went into the dressing-room and returned a moment later.
"If there was anything of value in the safe, it's gone," he said. "Look
here!--Here, you, Simcox, what the devil are you gaping there for, like
a stuck pig; why don't you send for the police?"
Simcox turned to fly, and almost ran into Mrs. Dexter, who was followed
by Celia. Strangely enough Mrs. Dexter had been almost the last to hear
of the calamity; a terrified servant had dashed into her room with the
awful news. Celia's room was next to Mrs. Dexter's and she had heard
Mrs. Dexter's cry of horror, and had darted out to learn what it meant.
Mrs. Dexter went to the bed, gently and unconsciously putting Miriam
aside, and bent over the motionless form.
"He is not dead," she said, in a whisper.
"Oh, thank God!" broke from Miriam's white lips, and she turned to Celia
and grasped her arm. "Oh, I'm glad you've come; I'm glad you are here!"
she sobbed. "I'm all alone--oh, I'm glad you are here! Do _you_ think he
is not dead?"
"Mrs. Dexter will know," said Celia, trying to control her voice. "Don't
be frightened, don't get worried, Lady Heyton. Come with me!"
She took Miriam's hand and drew her into her bedroom. Miriam sank on the
bed and covered her face with her hands; and for a while, there was
silence; for Celia had no words at command. Presently Miriam dropped her
hands from her face and looked straight before her; there was something
worse than horror in her expression; there was a poignant, a vivid
terror.
Celia found some eau-de-Cologne and bathed Miriam's forehead.
"You won't faint, Lady Heyton?" she said. "They will need you--you must
try to bear up. He is not dead----"
"No, thank God!" murmured Miriam. "Why, it would be--murder, wouldn't
it?" she asked suddenly, still staring in front of her.
"I--I don't know," said Celia. "I know no more than you do. It is a
burglary, isn't it? I heard one of the servants say that the safe had
been broken into."
"The safe!" echoed Miriam, in a toneless voice. "Yes, the safe--the
diamonds. What is that?" she asked, with almost a scream.
"Carriage wheels: the doctor," said Celia, soothingly.
"Go--go and hear what he says," said Miriam, in a hushed whisper. "I--I
want to know at once. I can't go back; I dare not!"
"No; stay here, I will come to you," said Celia. "Shall I bring Lord
Heyton to you?"
"No, no!" responded Miriam, shrinking away. "No, no! Don't bring him
here. I--I mean he should be there; there will be things to do----Oh,
don't you understand! I don't want him here!"
"I understand," said Celia; "but you must try to be calm. There will be
so much to do----"
"Calm!" cried Miriam, flinging out her arms. "Am I not calm? Do you
think I'm not trying not to give way; that I'm not trying to keep sane?
Go! Go!"
Celia went back to the Marquess's room. Mrs. Dexter and the doctor were
bending over the bed; Heyton was standing at a little distance, watching
them and gnawing his nails. Mrs. Dexter looked round as Celia entered.
"I want you, my dear," she said. "I want you to help me. He is not
dead," she went on in a whisper; "he is still alive, though Doctor Scott
will not give us any hope yet."
Celia assisted Mrs. Dexter in carrying out the doctor's orders; the
Marquess was still unconscious; but though he looked more dead than
alive, life was still present. After a time, there came a timid and
subdued knock at the door. Mrs. Dexter signed to Celia to open it and
she did so. It was Smith, the butler.
"The Inspector has come, Miss Grant, and is asking for Lord Heyton," he
said in a tremulous voice.
Heyton turned at the sound of his name and went out.
"How is the Marquess, my lord?" asked Smith, who was deeply agitated.
"Oh, he's all right," said Heyton. "I mean, the doctor thinks he'll pull
round. Here, don't make more fuss than is necessary, Smith; keep the
house quiet and tell the servants to keep their mouths shut."
Smith looked at him with surprise; for Heyton's manner was scarcely that
of a son whose father had nearly been done to death. The Inspector was
in the hall and Heyton signed to him to follow into the library.
"This is dreadful news, my lord," said the Inspector.
"Rather!" assented Heyton. He was very pale, and his hair was dank with
sweat, and his tongue moved over his lips thickly, with a restless,
feverish movement. "Here, we'd better have a drink before we begin. I'm
terribly upset. Only natural, eh, Inspector?--Own father, you
know?--Bring in some soda and whisky," he ordered the footman who
answered the bell.
"Not for me, my lord, thank you," said the Inspector, respectfully.
Heyton poured out half a glassful of whisky, made a pretence of adding
soda, and swallowed the spirit.
"Absolutely upset," he said, wiping his lips on his handkerchief. "But
there! I half expected it. I was telling my father only last night--or
was it the night before?--about those damned gipsies on the common. I
warned him; yes, I warned him."
"Gipsies, my lord?" said the Inspector. "You suspect them?"
"Who else am I to suspect?" demanded Heyton, with a sideway glance of
his bloodshot eyes.
"That remains to be seen, my lord," said the Inspector quietly; "for
myself, I don't think the gipsies have had any hand in this. I should
like you to tell me everything you know about the affair, please, my
lord."
"Certainly, Inspector," responded Heyton, promptly. "But, you see, I
know precious little; in fact, I don't know anything. My man came
bursting into my room this morning, and told me they'd found my
father--well, as you know, lying in his dressing-room, badly knocked
about; and, of course, I went straight to his room, and--that's all I
know about it."
"Quite so, my lord. I should like to see the room at once."
"Come on, then," said Heyton. He was quite calm, and was quite proud of
being so calm. The Inspector might look at the room as long as he liked;
it wouldn't tell him anything of the truth.
They went up to the dressing-room, and the Inspector walked straight to
the safe and began to look, not at its contents, but along the edge of
the door. He nodded with a kind of satisfaction, and said:
"I've wired for a detective; he's more at home at this kind of case than
I am."
He turned from the safe and examined the part of the floor on which the
Marquess had fallen; then he caught sight of the poker and pursed his
lips.
"That's what did it," he said, confidently. "The blood's still wet on
it."
Heyton made as if to pick up the poker, but the Inspector caught his arm
and stayed him.
"Beg pardon, my lord," he said, apologetically. "But you mustn't touch
anything. We'll let everything bide as it is until the detective comes
down from Scotland Yard."
He went to the window and examined it; but without touching it.
"Closed and hasped! Have you any idea how they got in, my lord; have any
of the servants found a window or a door open?"
"No," replied Heyton; then he added, as if he had suddenly remembered.
"Here, by George, that's strange! I mean about the window. I found one
of the back windows open when I went down this morning for a swim."
"Oh!" said the Inspector. "I should like to see that window, my lord.
But one moment! Was there anything of value--I mean, jewels or money or
anything of that kind--in the safe?"
"Not that I'm aware of," replied Heyton, almost instantly; but he had
had time to consider the question. "There may have been, of course. Not
jewels, because my father kept the family diamonds at the bank."
"That's something to be thankful for, my lord," said the Inspector, with
an approving shake of the head. "Quite the proper thing to do. There
wouldn't be half the burglaries, if the gentry didn't leave their jewels
about in the way they do. But there might have been money?"
"Oh, yes, there might," said Heyton.
The Inspector walked round the room cautiously, and presently went to
the outer door.
"Is this locked, my lord?"
"I don't know," said Heyton; and, as if he had forgotten the Inspector's
injunction, he tried the handle of the door before the Inspector could
stop him. "It's locked," said Heyton.
"Tut, tut!" said the Inspector to himself, as if he were much annoyed by
something.
"Come on," said Heyton. "I'll show you the window I found open." He was
consumed by a feverish desire to get the Inspector out of the room.
They went down to the lower hall, the white-faced servants staring at
them from coigns of vantage; and the Inspector glanced swiftly at the
window and then at the hall.
"That's where they got in," he said. "Nothing easier. There is no door,
I suppose, between the Marquess's room and the window here?"
"No," replied Heyton, moistening his lips as he stood behind the
Inspector.
"And you are sure this window was open when you went out this morning,
my lord? What time was that, by the way?"
"A little after six," replied Heyton. "It was deuced hot; I woke and had
a fancy for a swim. There was no one about, and I opened the door, this
door, for myself."
"Oh, it's plain enough," said the Inspector, nodding once or twice.
"It's quite easy for them to slip this hasp back with an ordinary knife.
The rest isn't difficult to guess. They must have made some noise while
they were breaking into the safe; well, not 'breaking into' it, for they
must have opened it with a key, because there wasn't even the mark of an
ordinary chisel on the safe. You noticed that, my lord, no doubt?"
"I--I can't say I did," said Heyton; "I'm a bit upset and confused, you
know."
"Yes, it was opened with a key," said the Inspector, "and that's the
only part of the business that troubles me. That's a good safe, my lord;
one of the first-class makers, and it couldn't have been opened with a
skeleton key; in fact, with anything but the proper key or a duplicate."
"Oh?" said Heyton. "Where did they get it?"
The Inspector shook his head. "Of course, that's just the puzzle, my
lord. I'm afraid we shall have to leave that to the Scotland Yard man."
As he spoke, he took out his whistle and blew sharply on it. A constable
came to the door and saluted.
"Got your men placed, Brown?" asked the Inspector. "Just put another man
on the drive, and give him orders that no man is to enter the lodge
gates excepting the detective, when he comes."
"What's that for?" asked Heyton, as if the question were inspired by his
desire to understand everything that was being done.
"I don't want a lot of people tramping over the place," said the
Inspector, rather evasively.
"Oh, ah, yes," said Heyton. "Well, I'll go upstairs again. Send for me,
if you want me, Inspector."
He went upstairs, paused a moment outside the Marquess's door, then went
on to his own dressing-room. He listened at the door leading to the
bedroom; but there was no sound. He touched the handle of the door; but
he could not open it, though he knew that Miriam was in the room, and
that he ought to go to her. He could not. He rang the bell, and when the
valet came, Heyton told him to bring some whisky and soda. But even the
draught of almost undiluted spirit could not give him sufficient courage
to face his wife.
For he knew that she would remember that she had told him the diamonds
were in the safe. And that he had wanted them.