the Count de Louvisan's murderer must inevitably entail the exposure of
Lady Clavering's secret and yours. That I would spare both you and her,
if I could. The anguish you two have suffered I would let be the only
thing that comes out of this crime if it were mine to say; but I am the
instrument of the law, and I must obey its dictates. I cannot shield the
assassin, and I cannot shield you or her ladyship if this case has to be
brought up before the courts. General, I know the murderer and I know
the motive. It was a great one, that I grant you; and the carrying of it
out was one of craft and cunning.
"As you have guessed, it was Paul Berton, alias St. Ulmer, who committed
both crimes; the killing of the keeper and De Louvisan. As you said just
now, Anatole had been playing a double game, and he had threatened to
throw over Lady Katharine and reveal the truth of the impostorship to
Margot, thus earning his forgiveness from her for the stealing of that
other property, and if possible marrying her and sharing her rule. St.
Ulmer came to the cottage in those few minutes before you and Lady
Clavering put in an appearance. He saw afterward what you did not
see--namely, what De Louvisan did in those few minutes you were absent.
He saw, too, that length of catgut which you dropped, and when you
rushed out, leaving the man unconscious, Paul Berton, or St. Ulmer,
flashed into the room, caught that up and strangled the fellow where he
lay. He spiked him to the wall with the very hammer the hound had
assailed you with, and he would have accomplished all he had set out to
do but for an accident. De Louvisan, or Anatole, had taken up a board
and hidden the letters beneath the floor. Paul had seen him do it and
meant to get them. But the noise he had made, he fancied, had attracted
the attention of either a constable or a Common keeper, for he heard the
sound of some one stealing through the garden. That was Lady Katharine
Fordham walking in her sleep, poor girl. He had no time to lose, so
caught up the stick of cosmetic you had dropped, and scrawled those
figures on the dead man's shirt----"
"Their meaning, Cleek?" cried Narkom. "What was it?"
"A very simple one. Part of the Apache cipher. I remembered it
afterward, and translated it thus:
"2 X 4 X 1 X 2. Hiding X letters X Paul X Hiding
"You see he meant that if Margot should arrive on the scene, she should
know that it was he, Paul, who had avenged the gang and hidden the
letters. By this he meant to win his own pardon from Margot. As it
happened, she had already taken fright and left the country. The numbers
counted to nine, and I reckoned that Paul, noting this fact, must have
trusted to luck to Margot being sharp enough to take it as a measurement
of some kind. I took it to be nine boards, and was right, as you know.
"He would probably have gone back for the letters afterward, but he had
no time; he fled across the Common, headlong into the arms of the
Common keeper, whom he shot at and knocked senseless, making use of the
man's clothing, as we know. These he buried later in the old ruin, and
there you will find them, General."
An exclamation burst from the lips of General Raynor, followed by the
sound of something more startling, that of a pistol shot.
"God! What was that!" the General breathed in a frightened whisper at
the sound of the explosion.
"The end of De Louvisan's murderer, General, I hope, and the everlasting
shutting of the door on Lady Clavering's secret and yours," said Cleek.
"Come quickly, before the servants arrive on the scene."
He led the way out of the room, and up the stairs to where was Lord St.
Ulmer's room. Cleek opened the door with the key which had evidently
reposed in his own pocket. A strange sight met their eyes. It was
evident that St. Ulmer, or Paul Berton, had been left handcuffed and
bound by ropes to the bedpost, but he had managed to evade his bondage
sufficiently to get to a drawer in which must have been a loaded
revolver, and he had thus set himself free.
"Let the dead past bury its dead," said Cleek quietly. "The world need
only know that one impostor killed another, and finally shot himself
when the law discovered the truth."
He bent down and swiftly removed the handcuffs from the still figure,
and the General gave vent to a deep sigh of relief just as the startled
servants came flocking up the staircase.
The riddle of the night had been solved, and their secret lay buried in
the grave.
* * * * *
It was an hour afterward. In the seclusion of the General's study, he
and Narkom and Cleek sat talking over the events of the night.
"You must not accord me too much honour, General," said Cleek. "For
after all I did not ferret out the entire truth until I came face to
face with Paul Berton, who told me the facts, under force, it is true.
It was, as I have already explained, he who killed the poor Common
keeper when that unfortunate man interrupted his headlong dash for
freedom. Then, General, borrowing a leaf from the book of a certain
person known as the 'Vanishing Cracksman,' with whom he had had some
dealings in other days, he leaped upon the unfortunate man, beat him to
the ground, and hastily robbed him of his uniform. You know the rest:
the assassin's blows were perhaps harder than he had intended, and so
another life was added to the list. I confess I was puzzled at first by
Lady Katharine's part in the affair and the ermine cloak, as I knew
there were at least two women on the Common that night. But I managed to
look into Mrs. Raynor's room in one of my rambles, and there I saw an
ermine cloak soiled at the edges. The maid told me, unconscious of doing
either harm or good, that she had just fetched it from Lady Katharine's
room, as she had borrowed it a couple of days ago. I had already made up
my mind after overhearing a certain interview between the lovers, that
Lady Katharine must have acquired the habit of walking in her sleep, and
so that part of the mystery was made clear. But I am afraid I have given
you an unpleasant time, General, and I have had to spy about a good
deal. However, I think we may agree with the immortal Shakespeare that
after all, 'All's well that ends well.'"
He turned and put out his hand suddenly, and the General, with a little
choking sound, put his own into it and breathed hard. There was a
curious misty something lurking in his eyes.
Cleek smiled.
"Good-night!" he said softly, "and good-bye. Mr. Narkom and I will motor
back to town, and perhaps on our way will make a point of calling at
Clavering Close and break the news to Lady Katharine of her erstwhile
father's death. She cannot grieve deeply, poor girl, for that which she
has never known--a father's devotion, or a father's love; but it will
end her suspense. Good-night, General, once more."
He waited a brief moment, and their eyes met in a look of perfect
understanding; then with a nod to Narkom, who was standing in the
background watching them, he spun on his heel and went out into the
night whose riddle he had solved, leaving behind him that which is above
all earthly things: a perfect peace and a still greater gratitude.
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The Riddle of the Night, by Thomas W. Hanshew