BESS THE DETECTIVE
In this way Saxham was purged of one undesirable person. Herrick was
pleased that he had acted with such promptitude. Bess would no longer
be vexed by the odious attentions of the little scamp who had
tormented her. Dr. Jim smiled to think how much of the jealous rival
there was about his dealings with his quondam friend. He now
recognised that Bess was the woman he desired for his wife. Nor did he
think she would refuse to become Mrs. Herrick when he could give her a
home worthy of her. Had she disliked his attentions, she would not
have permitted even the strange hour's wooing, which was all they had
of love, since Jim had found his heart. He laughed at the
recollection.
"To talk of love between intervals of detective analysis," he thought
as he walked back to Saxham, having sent on Napper's cart by the
groom, "is a strange way of wooing one's wife, and the last kind I
expected to indulge in. But Bess enjoyed it I fancy. I must recompense
myself in a more leisurely way, when this business is at an end."
On arriving at Saxham, the doctor called in at the Carr Arms to see
Don Manuel. He wanted to hear from the man himself if he had really
given the pistol to Joyce, and if so how it had come into his
possession. It might be that he had bought it in order to incriminate
Robin--although at present Herrick could see no very good reason for
such incrimination--on the other hand the pistol might be the
veritable weapon used to shoot Carr. But that could be proved only by
the test of the bullet, and he would have to wait until Bess saw
Bridge about that. In some way Herrick felt convinced that Santiago
was connected with the crime. He had known and hated Carr; he was far
too intimate with Joyce for mere friendship, and he showed too great a
desire to remain in the parish. That he should have in some way gained
possession of the real pistol was not unlikely. "And it might be that
he used it himself," said Dr. Jim as he entered the inn, "although I
should think he would have used a more modern weapon for choice?"
"On speaking to Napper about the Mexican a shock awaited him. The
landlord expressed the broadest surprise that Mr. Joyce had not told
Dr. Herrick of Santiago's departure. The Mexican had gone to London by
an early train. Herrick swore beneath his breath, feeling that he had
been outwitted.
"When Mr. Joyce came back here this afternoon did he see Don Manuel?"
"Aye sir, that he did. The foreigner was waiting for him, and they
talked for an hour. After that Don Manuel came down with his trunk--he
had but one, doctor, and drove in to catch an earlier train."
"To Beorminster?" asked Herrick.
"No sir. To Heathcroft. He paid his bill alright though. But I was
astonished Mr. Joyce left us so suddenly. There is nothing wrong I
hope."
"By no means," replied Herrick with a carelessness he was far from
feeling. "I believe Don Manuel had to go up on business, and asked Mr.
Joyce to join him later."
"Will they be coming here again sir?" asked Napper, and on receiving a
reply in the negative expressed his regret. "They didn't pay much, but
they was sure," said the worthy landlord.
"Did you hear Señor Santiago say _where_ he was going?" asked Herrick.
But this the landlord could not tell him.
Dr. Jim walked away annoyed that he had been taken in. He felt that
Robin had been tutored to play his part by the cleverer scoundrel. No
doubt Robin had told the Mexican of his intrusion into the case, and
Santiago had taken alarm. He knew well enough that Dr. Jim would
recognise the pistol, and that he would force Robin to say where he
had obtained it. Evidently Don Manuel thought it would be better for
him to disappear than to face an examination. Yet he could have told
Joyce to make up some story about the pistol so that he might not be
brought into it. The whole business was part of the conspiracy. Don
Manuel was in it, Robin also, and Herrick felt that the firm of Joyce
and Santiago had been one too many for him.
All the same he remembered that he had set a watch on Joyce. If the
scamp tried to hide, or went to any place to meet Manuel, he would be
followed. "I shall go up to Town to-morrow," said Herrick on his way
to 'The Pines.' "Wherever Joyce has gone, there Manuel will be. I
shall run both to earth and learn what all this means by questioning
them in each other's company. They won't trick me a second time! Well,
I have done enough detective work for the day. I'll think of something
else."
Stephen was now so far on the road to recovery, that he was able to
leave his room. He had seen little of Jim lately, but he did not miss
him, thanks to the constant attendance of Ida. Marsh-Carr was as
devoted a friend as ever to Herrick, he still believed him the
cleverest and best of men, but now his whole heart was filled with the
image of Ida. The two were constantly together, and the girl had had
no small share in nursing back her promised husband to health. The
wound in the head had mended and the blow had left no effect behind it
beyond an occasional head-ache.
Stephen never gave his assailant a thought. He quite forgot Carr's
tragic death, and all the strange circumstances which had brought
about his change of fortune. At times he even ceased to remember his
step-mother, much as he had loved her. All his thoughts were for Ida,
and with her he passed hours planning their future. They never talked
of the past, and noticing this, Herrick forebore to tell his friend
that he was still working to discover the murderer of Colonel Carr,
and striving to baffle a possible conspiracy that had for its aim, the
loss to Stephen not only of the Carr fortune, but possibly also of his
life. Jim felt quite competent to deal with the matter himself, and
did not think it necessary to spoil Marsh-Carr's love-making with such
common-place things. Therefore he remained in ignorance of Herrick's
doings.
"How late you are," said Stephen who was already dressed for dinner.
"I have been anxiously expecting you this last hour!"
"I had to go into Beorminster," said Herrick carelessly. "Joyce has
been called up to town and I went to see the last of him."
"I am glad he has gone," Stephen said gravely. "I don't like him. I
think he is false. As for the Mexican---" he shrugged his shoulders.
Herrick, who was pouring himself a glass of sherry as an appetizer
turned with a laugh. "The Mexican is a bad lot sure enough," he said.
"As to Joyce he is more of a fool than a knave."
"I forgot that he was your friend."
"You do quite right to use the past tense Steve. He _was_ my friend,
but he is so no longer." Herrick laughed again and sipped his sherry.
"I have taken you for a change."
"You know well that I will never fail you," said Stephen warmly. "No.
I suppose we shall remain good friends till you marry. Then you will
forget me, and think only of your wife."
"You know better than that Jim. Besides Ida is fond of you."
"I know. I was fond of Ida too at one time--that was before she was
engaged to you. But I have not played you false Steve."
"You are telling me old news," replied Marsh-Carr smiling. "I saw that
you were in love with Ida."
"No. I was never in love. I thought I was, but my love was a snare and
a delusion. But you thought so did you? Were you not jealous?"
"Not at all. I knew that Ida was mine, and I trusted her--you too."
"Wonderful man!" said Herrick looking into the fire. "Well you did
right to trust us both. We are merely friends now. Indeed I know we
never were anything else. I was blind; but she was not. However I am
glad that you two are engaged. You will be happy."
"And when am I to congratulate you?"
"At this very minute if you like. Is it Bess you are talking of?"
Stephen sat up on the sofa looking astonished. "Yes," he said, "Ida
saw that she was in love with you--"
"Ida is a clever woman. She prophesied my love would come suddenly.
Bess has not yet formally consented to be my wife; but I think it will
be all right."
"I am more than delighted. We shall be brothers-in-law. And you will
always stay here Jim?"
"Living on you my dear fellow? No, I shall start practice again in
Town, when I have got together sufficient money. Then when I am doing
fairly well Bess shall come to me and supplement my income by writing
novels in the intervals of looking after the house."
"Herrick you must not go away. You promised."
"Until you were married. But be of good cheer Steve, I won't leave you
until everything is right." Dr. Jim said these last words with a
significance which was lost on his listener.
"I thought that your friend Joyce--"
"Oh! he never had a chance. I was a fool to let him hang after Bess.
However I found out to-day what she was to me, so it is all right
now."
"Bess and Ida are coming over this evening with Frank."
"All the better. I can make my proposal in due form. By the way Steve
I am going up Town to-morrow if you can spare me."
"Certainly. But it is not to make arrangements to leave me is it?"
"I should think not! I shall never go till you tell me Steve. No, I am
going to see about some business of my own. Well I must dress. I hope
you have a good dinner for me. I am very hungry."
"You think of nothing but eating," said Stephen with a laugh.
The dinner gave every satisfaction even to Herrick who was somewhat
fastidious. But Ida had seen that a good cook was engaged, and the two
men had nothing to complain of. Dinner over, Herrick supported Stephen
into the library, and placed him on the sofa. Then he sat beside him
and they smoked over their coffee and cognac. "But you must go to bed
at half past ten," said Herrick sternly.
"What a tyrant you are Jim. Hark, there are the girls."
They came in looking charming, and in the best of spirits. It needed
but a glance for Dr. Jim to see that Bess had said nothing about Joyce
to her brother or sister. What a wise little woman she was! When Ida
and Frank had seated themselves beside Stephen, Jim drew her into a
remote corner of the room.
"You said nothing about our adventure of to-day," he whispered.
"No," she replied in the same tone, "I thought it best not to. And Mr.
Joyce?"
"You will not be troubled with him again. He has gone to town. I do
not think he will come back. Santiago has gone also."
"What about his threat against me?"
"That is alright. I have his confession in my pocket."
"Did he kill Colonel Carr?"
"No! I have not yet solved that problem. But do not let us talk of
these unpleasant things any more Bess. To-morrow you shall know all.
In the meantime make yourself agreeable to me and tell me how much you
love me. Come now. After this afternoon you cannot deny----"
"I neither deny nor affirm," said Bess her face one glow of
scarlet--but that might have been the fire---"you were not in earnest
to-day."
"Indeed I was. Can't you see that I love you with my whole heart and
soul! I never knew until to-day how much I did love you."
"I thought it was Ida?" faltered Bess.
"I thought so too for a period of madness. But I know now that I was
mistaken. We are the best of friends as you can see. But you have not
replied to my question."
"What do you want me to say?"
"That I am the dearest man in the world, and that you have loved me
for ever so long. Come now?"
"It is true," said Bess sinking her voice. "I have loved you. I do
love you and I am thankful to be your wife."
"I am a poor doctor remember."
"I love you for yourself, not for any money you may have."
"Faith," said Herrick, "that is lucky for me! Come here. Behind this
screen--there now."
"Oh! Dr. Jim--No--Very well. Jim, without the doctor. Do not go on
like this. We are not alone."
"Will you come into another room?" teased Jim.
"Certainly not. Jim what are you doing?"
"Leading you into the world," said Herrick laughing. Bess laughed also
and blushed when Jim led her before the three astonished people who
looked at them in amazement. "Lady and gentlemen," said Dr. Jim, "do
you know who this is?"
"Bess I suppose," said the stupid brother.
"And more than that," cried Ida rising to take her sister in her arms,
"oh! Bess darling, I am so glad."
"Hurrah!" cried Stephen and pinched Frank's arm.
That youth was still dense, although the truth was staring him in the
face. He looked at the two girls almost weeping with pleasure in one
another's arms; at the laughing faces of Herrick and Stephen. Still he
did not understand, not having yet experienced the love of woman.
"You are stupid Frank," cried Ida, "can't you see?"
"Can't you see," said Herrick gripping Frank's arm. "What a blind
brother-in-law I shall have."
"Oh!" Frank's eyes opened wide. "Are you to marry Bess?" Herrick
nodded. "And Stephen takes Ida?" the engaged couple laughed. "Well,"
said Frank, "that is two of them gone, and who is to look after
Biffstead?"
"Flo of course," said Stephen.
"As if she could! Bess is the top, tail, and bottom of the house."
"That she is," cried Ida hugging her sister, "and I am jealous of Jim
taking her away from us!" Then she gave Herrick a roguish glance. "Was
I not right?" she asked.
"Perfectly right," he replied, and drew Bess down on the seat beside
him. Ida went as by instinct to Stephen. Only the miserable Frank was
left out in the cold, and said so. The quartette laughed heartlessly.
There was not a happier party in the whole three kingdoms than that
seated before the fire in the house of wicked Colonel Carr. If the
shade of the old man had been present in the room, he must--or rather
_It_ must have sighed enviously at the sight of such happiness. Not
during his reign had such truth and honour and clean delight prevailed
in the old house. It was a merry evening. "Memory of the Golden Age,"
said Jim.
The next morning Dr. Herrick re-entered the work-a-day world. He
walked over to Biffstead and found Bess just setting out for
Beorminster on her bicycle. "You can leave that," he said after a kiss
had been exchanged, "I will drive you over to Beorminster in the cart.
I told the groom to put in the horse and bring it round here."
"You are going to Town?" asked Bess.
"Yes! On the track of those two scamps. You are going to see Bridge
about that bullet?"
"Yes! I have the pistol in my pocket," she replied showing it.
"Very good. Can you drive the cart back?"
"Of course I can. Drive? Who ever heard of asking a country girl such
a question. You do not know my accomplishments Jim."
"I know that you are the dearest and sweetest and most sensible girl
in the whole wide world. But I say we won't take the groom. In the
first place I want you all to myself. In the second, I must tell you
all that took place when I interviewed Joyce yesterday."
Bess, needless to say thought this a capital plan, so when the groom
brought round the cart he was sent away. He saw the pair drive towards
the village and there was a broad grin on his face. He knew very well
what they were to one another. In some mysterious way the news had got
to the servants' hall and had been well discussed that very morning.
The lovers drove into Beorminster and talked in the most matter of
fact way about the conspiracy. Their heads were so close together that
one would have thought they were exchanging the tenderest confidences.
In place of that the detective fever was raging in both their breasts,
and they were like a couple of Scotland Yard officials.
Then Herrick took a last farewell, promised to return in the course of
a few days, and caught the express. When the train disappeared round
the curve Bess went back to the cart and drove it to some stables
where she put it up. Afterwards she went into the lower part of
Beorminster where Mr. Inspector Bridge had his office. He happened to
be in and brightened up when he saw her. Bridge had a great opinion of
the younger Miss Endicotte.
"What good wind brings you here Miss?" he asked.
"Ah!" said Bess solemnly, "that requires some telling Mr. Inspector.
It is about this pistol?" and she produced it from her pocket.
"Pistol!" echoed Bridge puzzled, "ah! it is the pistol of the Carr
case?"
"That is what I want to find out," said Miss Endicotte who had her
story all ready to tell, and had discussed its details with Dr. Jim
during the drive. "I found this the other day in the Pine wood near
Colonel Carr's house. It is a clumsy old-fashioned thing; but I
remembered what was said about the bullet being old-fashioned also.
Now I want you to see if the bullet fits the muzzle of this."
"H'm!" said Bridge with his most important air and looking down the
muzzle, "so you found this pistol in the grass--and near the house?
Perhaps--I say perhaps mind you Miss Bess-this might be the weapon we
have been looking for so long. Is there a name on the butt?"
"No," said Bess promptly, "you only find that in novels. There is not
so much as a scratch on the handle."
"An old weapon," observed Bridge wagging his head ponderously and
irritating Bess to a frenzy with his platitudes. "Well, we must see if
the bullet--Ha! yes, the bullet. Now where is it?"
Bridge went hunting over some shelves, and then he took to excavating
in drawers--opened a safe, dug under dusty piles of papers, and
suddenly produced (Bess never saw from where) a small box in which
something rattled. When he opened this there were three conical
bullets and one fat round one. "Ah," cried Bess, "there it is. Try!
please try Mr. Inspector."
"All in good time Miss," said the aggravating Bridge, and dropped the
bullet into the muzzle. It disappeared, and he nodded solemnly. "It is
the pistol," he said, "you have made a valuable discovery Miss. If
there was only a name or initials on the handle," he sighed.
Bess was not attending to him. She took the pistol and dropped out the
bullet; then rammed it home again, and nodded in her turn. "There is
no doubt of it," she said, "this the pistol that shot Colonel Carr."
"Will you leave it with me Miss?" asked Bridge, "I might find out
something likely to lead to the detection of the assassin."
Bess laughed delightedly. From that last phrase she knew that
Inspector Bridge had been reading detective fiction of the worst. She
knew also that the pistol would afford no clue to the truth until it
was in capable hands. Therefore as she thought it would be safer in
the Beorminster police office than in the untidy house of Biffstead
where everybody was always turning over everybody else's drawers she
consented that Bridge should take charge of it. The Inspector with an
important air put away the pistol in his safe. He was about to replace
the box, when he noticed that Bess had the round bullet in her hand.
"Come Miss give it back?" he said. "Belongs to the Crown that does."
"A queer bullet," murmured Bess, "made in a mould. Here is the seam. I
do not believe it is lead. It is too hard for lead. Have you a
pen-knife Mr. Inspector? Ah," she seized one lying on the desk, "this
will do. I don't believe this is lead."
"Nonsense," said Bridge crossly, "all bullets are made of lead."
"This is not," cried Bess who was scratching away vigorously. "See how
hard it is. And the scratches shine. Inspector Bridge," she said in a
solemn tone, "I believe this is silver."
"It can't be." The Inspector took it up and examined it in his turn.
What Bess said was true. The bullet was hard, not soft as lead should
be, and moreover it was hard to scratch, and the little scraping she
had given it glittered in parts just like silver. "It might be,"
murmured Bridge.
"There is a silversmith just round the corner," said Bess in great
excitement. "Do come and let him see it. I want to know for certain
that it is silver."
"I do not know what good that will do Miss Bess. If it is silver that
will not help us to catch Frisco any the sooner."
"No! but you can't think what discoveries you might make if you knew
it was silver for certain. I know how you can put things together, and
a piece of evidence like this--oh I am sure you could do a lot with
it."
Bridge in his own heart did not very well see what he could do. But he
was not proof against flattery as the artful Bess well knew, so he
went round the corner with her to a convenient jeweller's and offered
him the bullet. "Will you please to tell me what this is?" he said in
his most official tone. "Do not destroy it Mr. Blinks, or deform it in
any way. It is the property of the Crown. All the Crown wants to know
is the metal of which this is formed."
Mr. Blinks was much impressed with this speech. Promising to be
careful he took the bullet into the next room--into his workshop and
there performed some trick of the trade. When he returned he handed
the bullet to Bridge very little altered. "It is of silver, Mr.
Bridge," he said.
"All of silver?" asked Bridge while Bess tried to suppress her
excitement.
"All of silver Mr. Bridge. It has been cast in a mould. Probably a cup
or a silver plate has been melted down. What is it Mr. Inspector?"
"The property of the Crown," replied Bridge solemnly and departed.
When in the office he locked up the bullet and looked at Bess. "I
really do not see how this discovery can help me," he said.
"Think over it Mr. Inspector. You will be certain to hit upon some
link."
But Bess herself was as far away from the truth as the Inspector. As
she drove back to Saxham, she wondered how it came about that the
bullet which had killed Carr was cast in silver, and to this she could
find no answer.