For three days I remained in Aix, awaiting some news or message from the
fugitives--but none came.
Tramu called and saw me twice, evidently astounded at the channel of
escape which Shaw had so cunningly prepared. He had, no doubt, obtained
an impression of one of the servants' master keys, and had one cut to
fit the locked door which prevented visitors from passing out by any
other way save by the front hall. He had anticipated that flight might
be necessary, and the fact that he had prepared for it showed that he
was both cunning and fearless.
Asta's injunctions to me to say nothing showed plainly that they
intended still to keep their hiding-place a secret. And if Shaw was the
adventurer I believed, it was not likely that either he or she would
carry anything by which to reveal their more respectable identity.
So at length, full of grave apprehensions, I left Aix, sickened by its
music and summer gaiety, and travelled home, halting one night at the
Grand in Paris, and duly arrived at the Cecil in London. There I found
a batch of letters sent on to me from Upton End, and among them was a
formal letter from a firm of solicitors called Napier and Norman, 129,
Bedford Row, W.C., stating that they were acting for the late Mr Guy
Nicholson of Titmarsh Court, and asking me to call upon them without
delay.
Exercising caution lest I should be watched, I had immediately on
arrival telephoned from my hotel bedroom to Lydford, but the response
came back in a woman's voice that "the master" and Miss Asta were still
abroad. Therefore about noon on the morning following my return I went
round to Bedford Row in a taxi, and was quickly shown into the sombre
private room of an elderly, quiet-spoken man--Mr George Napier, head of
the firm.
"I'm extremely glad you have called, Mr Kemball," he said, as he leaned
back in his chair. "I believe you were present at Titmarsh very soon
after the unfortunate death of our client, Mr Guy Nicholson. Indeed, I
remember now that we met at the inquest. Well, Mr Nicholson, with his
father and grandfather before him, entrusted his affairs in our hands,
and, naturally, after his decease we searched his effects for any papers
that were relative to his estate, or any private papers which should not
fall into anybody's hands. Among them we found this letter, sealed just
as you see it, and addressed to you. He evidently put it aside,
intending to post it in the morning, but expired in the night."
And taking a letter from a drawer in his writing-table, he handed it
across to me.
I glanced at the superscription, and saw that it was addressed ready for
the post and that a stamp was already upon it.
"Poor Nicholson's death was a most mysterious one," I exclaimed, looking
the solicitor full in the face; "I don't believe that he died from
natural causes."
"Well, I fear we cannot get away from the medical evidence," replied the
matter-of-fact, grey-faced man, peering through his spectacles. "Of
course the locked door was a most curious circumstance--yet it may be
accounted for by one of the servants, in passing before retiring,
turning the key. Or, as you suggested at the inquest, the servant who
entered the library in the morning may have thought the door was locked.
It might have caught somehow, as locks sometimes do."
I shook my head dubiously, and with eager fingers tore open the message
from the dead.
From its date, it had evidently been written only a few hours prior to
his untimely end, and it read--
"Strictly Private.
"Dear Mr Kemball,--I fear, owing to the fact that I have promised Asta
to take her motoring on Sunday, that I may not be able to keep my
appointment with you. Since my confidential conversation with you, I
have watched and discovered certain things at Lydford which cause me the
keenest apprehension. Shaw is not what he pretends to be, and many of
his movements are most mysterious. By dint of constant watching both
while I have been guest there and also by night when they have believed
me to be safely at home, I have ascertained several very remarkable
facts.
"First. In secret and unknown to any--even to his gardeners--he sets
clever traps for small birds, which he visits periodically at night, and
takes away the unfortunate creatures he finds therein.
"Secondly. He is in the habit of going forth in the night and walking
through Woldon Woods to a spot close to Geddington village, at the
corner of the road from Newton, and there meeting a middle-aged man who
frequently stops at the inn. Once I followed them and overheard some of
their conversation. They were planning something, but what I could not
make out. However, I feel sure that they both discovered my presence,
and hence he seems in fear of me and annoyed whenever I visit Lydford.
"Thirdly. In his bedroom there is a cupboard beside the fireplace. The
door is enamelled white, and at first is not distinguishable from the
rest of the panelling. Examine it, and you will see that it is secured
by two of the most expensive and complicated of modern locks. What does
that cupboard contain? The contents are not plate or valuables, for
there is a large fireproof safe downstairs. Some mystery lies there.
"Fourthly. Though he makes most clever pretences of devotion to Asta,
he hates her. Poor girl, she loves him, and cannot see those black,
covert looks he so often gives her when her back is turned. But I have
seen them, and I know--at least, I have guessed--the reason.
"Fifthly. If you are a frequent guest there, you will hear him
sometimes utter a strange shrill whistle for no apparent purpose, as
though he does it quite unknowingly. But it is with a purpose. What
purpose?
"I feel that Asta is in danger, and it is therefore my duty to protect
her and elucidate the mystery of the strange conspiracy which I feel
convinced is now in progress. It is to discuss these matters, and to
combine to keep vigilant watch, that I am anxious to spend a few hours
with you. Think carefully over these five points, and if I am unable to
come on Sunday I will motor over on Monday about eleven in the morning.
"Meanwhile be careful not to show that you either know or suspect
anything. I know Shaw suspects me, and therefore by some means I must
remove his suspicions.
"That, however, will be a matter for us to discuss seriously when we
meet.
"Asta has told me of a strange and extremely weird incident which
occurred to her one night a little while ago in the house of a friend--
the apparition of a black shadowy hand. I believe I have the solution
of the mystery--a most remarkable and terrible one.
"I ask your assistance in this affair, and am eager to meet you to
discuss it fully. Kindly destroy this letter.--Yours very sincerely,--
"Guy Nicholson."
I sat dumbfounded. It was just as I had believed. The man struck down
so suddenly had discovered the actual truth! He had watched in patience
and learned some strange and startling facts.
The reference to the hand filled my mind with the hideous recollection
of what I had seen in that roadside inn at Arnay-le-Duc--and of Arnold's
strange warning. Who was Harford--the name I was to remember. Asta had
told her lover of her own experience, and he had solved the mystery!
Yet he had not been spared to reveal it to me. His lips had been closed
by death. The name of Harford was still unknown to me.
How long I sat there staring at the closely written letter in my hand I
know not. But I was awakened to a consciousness of where I was by Mr
Napier's quiet voice exclaiming--
"I see that my late client's letter has made a great impression upon
you, Mr Kemball. I presume it is of a purely private character, eh?"
"Purely private," I managed to reply. "It does not concern his affairs
in any way whatsoever, and it is marked `strictly private.'"
"Oh, very well. I, of course, have no wish whatever to inquire into
your private affairs with my dead client," replied the solicitor. "I
believed that it might contain something important, and for that reason
hesitated to send it through the post."
"Yes," I said meaningly, "it does contain something important--very
important, Mr Napier. Had this been placed in my hand in time, my poor
friend's life might have been saved."
"What do you mean?" he asked quickly, staring at me across the table.
"Have you evidence--evidence of foul play?"
"No evidence, but I find a distinct motive."
"Anything upon which we could work in order to bring the culprit to
justice--if Mr Nicholson did not really die a natural death?"
"I tell you he did not!" I cried angrily. "The village jury were
impressed by the medical evidence, as all rustic juries are. Your
client, Mr Napier, discovered another man's secret, and the latter took
steps to close his lips."
"But can you prove this? Can you name the man?"
"Yes," I said, "I can name the man. And one day I shall prove it."
"You can! Why not place the matter in the hands of the police, together
with what is revealed in that letter?" he suggested. "Allow me to act."
"I shall act myself. At present it is not a matter for the police.
Certain facts have come to my knowledge which, if told at Scotland Yard,
would not be believed. Therefore at present I intend to keep my
knowledge strictly to myself," and replacing the dead man's message in
its envelope, I put it safely into my breast-pocket, and, taking leave
of the solicitor, was soon in my taxi whirling along Holborn.
Why had Nicholson suspected that Shaw's affection for his
foster-daughter was only feigned? Why did he allege that Shaw hated
her? Why was he in such mortal terror lest some evil should befall her?
Perhaps, after all, in watching so closely he had, as is so easy,
discovered certain circumstances and misjudged them, for certainly as
far as I could see Shaw was entirely devoted to the girl who had been
his constant companion ever since her childhood days. Nevertheless,
that strange letter, penned by the man whose intention it had been to
reveal to me the secret of the weird shadow of the night, had caused me
to determine to continue the vigil which had been so abruptly ended.
I, too, would watch closely as soon as I learnt of their hiding-place,
as closely as the dead man had done. If Asta were in actual peril, then
I would stand as her protector in place of the upright, honest young
fellow who, it seemed, had lost his life in the attempt.
But the days, nay weeks, went on. September ended and October came with
rain and chilly wind, and though I returned to Upton End, and frequently
made inquiry over the telephone to Lydford, yet, though I wrote to Davis
at the Poste Restante at Charing Cross, I could learn no news of them.
They had descended those back stairs of the hotel at Aix, and
disappeared as completely as though the earth had swallowed them up.
One day in the middle of October, with sudden resolve to carry out
Nicholson's injunction to investigate, I drove over to Lydford, and on
arrival, about noon, found all smart and well-kept as though its owner
were in residence.
I told a rather lame story to the housekeeper, who, knowing me, came to
me in the long, chintz-covered drawing-room, the blinds of which were
down. She had not heard from her master for a month past, the
pleasant-faced woman explained. He was then in Aix. I said that I had
left him there and returned to England, and was now anxious to discover
where he was.
Then, after a brief chat, I exhibited my left forefinger enveloped in an
old glove, and told her that on my way I had some engine-trouble and had
hurt my finger.
"I believe Mr Shaw keeps up in his room a small medicine chest," I
said, for I recollected that he once told me that he kept one there. "I
wonder if I might go up and try and find a piece of bandage."
"Certainly," replied Mrs Howard, and she led me upstairs to the
apartment over the drawing-room, which I had come to Lydford for the
purpose of examining. It was a large, airy, and well-furnished room,
with a big book-case at one end and a canary in a cage at the window.
Without much difficulty she discovered the small black japanned box,
containing various surgical drugs and bandages, and I at once sent her
down to obtain a small bowl of warm water.
Then, the instant she had gone, I sought for the cupboard indicated by
the dead man's letter.
Yes, it was there, a long, narrow cupboard beside the fireplace, secured
by two large locks of a complicated character such as one finds on safe
or strongroom doors.