THE TORN LETTER AND THE MARK.
Crossley heaved a sigh, took his handkerchief out of his pocket, wiped
some drops of moisture from his brow, and then began to speak in a dry,
business-like tone.
“You know how very slight our clues have been up to the present?” he said
after a pause. “Your brother was murdered in a café in Paris; murderer
unknown; motive of the crime unknown. A man who is now in his grave
appeared on the scene half-an-hour after the murder was committed. He
found close to the body of the murdered man half a sheet of paper on
which something in cipher was written, and at the foot of the cipher in
place of signature were some very peculiar hieroglyphics. That piece of
paper has lain in my possession for years. I have studied the cipher and
the hieroglyphics which stood in place of a signature with the utmost
care. I have transposed the alphabet in all manner of ways, not only at
my office when I had a moment to spare, but over my evening pipe at home.
With infinite trouble I have made out a few words, but nothing to give me
any clue to the identity of the man to whom the paper belonged.
“The gentleman who is now dead and who appeared on the scene of the
murder half an-hour after it was committed, says he saw a man leaving
the café who looked much excited—was dark, and of unusual height and
breadth. His attention was attracted to this man because he wore no hat,
and he had also a peculiar mark above his upper lip. He described the
mark as something in the shape of a death’s head and cross-bones, but
could not positively be sure on that point. By evidence taken at the time
it was made abundantly plain that this man must have been the murderer.
He has never been captured, and our only chance of finding him consists
in following up the clue which the mysterious paper in my possession can
give us.
“There is little or no doubt either that the murder was premeditated, as
the writing was an appointment, bringing the murdered man to the spot.
My business, therefore, Mrs. Rowton, is to find the man who wrote the
letter, and who has that peculiar mark on his face.”
“Yes,” said Nance, with some impatience. “Remember,” she added, “that I
have heard all this discussed many, many times.”
“Yes, madam.”
“And have you nothing further to say?”
“A little more. Have you any objection to my locking the door?”
“Certainly not. But is it necessary? No one will disturb us during our
interview.”
“I am none so sure of that,” replied the detective. “There is a young
woman in this house who would think very little of eavesdropping.”
“Whom do you mean?” asked Nance with a start.
“A dark-eyed slip of a girl, madam—she came into this room a few minutes
ago to fetch a book. I looked at her and she looked at me. If ever a
face had cunning in it, hers is the one.”
“My maid, Hester Winsome,” thought Nance to herself.
Aloud she said: “Well, lock the door, and we shall be safe.”
Crossley did so.
As he resumed his seat, he said:
“I have something of great interest to tell you, madam. I have lately
arrested a man who belongs to a notorious school of burglars—he was
discovered uttering a forged cheque. In searching his house I found a
similar half sheet of paper to that already in my possession, with the
same cipher and the same hieroglyphics.”
“Impossible!” said Nance, springing to her feet, and speaking in great
excitement. “Then you have really found the man?”
“Pray sit down, Mrs. Rowton. I have not found the man, but I have found a
clue which may lead to him. Now I want you to allow me take certain steps
in order to make my suspicion a certainty.”
“What are they?”
“I want, with your permission, to locate a member of my staff at Rowton
Heights.”
“You do! What can you possibly mean?”
“Simply what I say, Mrs. Rowton. In order to make my suspicion a
certainty a member of my staff must come here.”
“But why?”
“I would rather not say at present. Remember, young lady, that I have
asked you to give up this search—you wish to continue it to the bitter
end. The clue which I have unexpectedly acquired points to a certain
track—that track lies red and hot round Rowton Heights.”
“You excite and terrify me,” said Nance, turning white as death.
“Even now, ma’am, we can drop the whole thing.”
“Never, never; my heart palpitates with eagerness to go on. Oh! that I
could find that coward, that ruffian, that assassin! If it is necessary
for your purpose to send a man here, let him come.”
“I thank you, Mrs. Rowton. The question now to consider is, in what guise
he had best appear on the scene.”
“Do you mean to imply that the man we are seeking for is in this house?”
“I mean to imply nothing of the kind, young lady. I believe, however,
that a member of my staff may do good work if his headquarters are here
for a short time.”
“He shall come,” said Nance, “he shall come. Send him down at once.”
“It would be fatal to our purpose, madam, if the least suspicion were
aroused. Now let me think. Can you manage another footman?”
“I don’t know anything about the servants—they are entirely managed by my
housekeeper, Mrs. Ferguson. We are a small family and we have two footmen
here at present.”
“Has Mr. Rowton a valet?” asked Crossley, knitting his brows as he spoke.
“No, he never will have one. He hates to have people about him when he is
dressing.”
“Some gentlemen are like that,” said Crossley. “It must be the footman
then. There is nothing for it, Mrs. Rowton, but for you to dismiss one of
your servants.”
“I don’t know how that is possible,” answered Nance—“the two footmen who
are here at present grew up in the village, and are, I believe, much
attached to the place.”
“You must make an excuse to get rid of one of them. Watch him when he
commits some slight indiscretion, give him notice, pay him a month’s
wages and a trifle over if you like, and then wire to me. My man shall
come down quickly to take his place.”
“This upsets me terribly,” said Nance. She pressed her hand to her
forehead as she spoke.
“I said there would be crooked work and all kinds of unpleasantnesses,”
said the detective in a dry tone. He rose as he spoke. “Can you oblige me
with fifty pounds on account?” he asked.
“I will go to my room and fetch it,” answered Mrs. Rowton.
She ran upstairs and entered her little boudoir. To her annoyance she
found that her maid, Hester, was standing over her writing table. The
girl had a duster in her hand which she began to use assiduously when
Nancy appeared.
“I want this room—will you leave me?” said her mistress.
“Yes, ma’am, certainly. I was just dusting the ornaments on your table—I
had no time to look after them properly this morning. I am going now to
the conservatories to pick some fresh flowers for these vases.”
“Thank you. But leave me now,” said Nancy.
Hester slowly left the room. Mrs. Rowton hastily unlocked her secretary,
and taking out her cheque book, filled in a cheque for the amount which
Crossley had demanded, and went downstairs.
The detective took it without a word.
“I have just time to catch my train,” he said, looking at his watch as
he spoke. “I shall expect to hear from you, madam, in a day or two with
regard to the new footman.”
“Yes,” answered Nance. “You shall hear from me.”
The man left the library and a moment later his footsteps might have been
heard crunching the gravel as he walked away.
Hester Winsome, from an upper window, looked after his retreating form.
“I guess who you are,” she said to herself. “You don’t know all that I
know. Some day perhaps you and I may be friends, there is no saying. Ah!
my young lady, you’re a deep one, but you are not quite as deep as Hester
Winsome yet.”
As Nancy was leaving the library she came suddenly face to face with Mrs.
Ferguson.
“I beg your pardon, madam,” said the housekeeper, “but may I speak to you
for a moment?”
“Certainly,” answered Nance; “is anything the matter?”
“I am ashamed to trouble you, Mrs. Rowton. It is about that tiresome
George—he has just given notice to leave.”
“George,” said Nance with a start, her colour flushing; “I thought that
you liked him.”
“He is an excellent servant, madam, and gives complete satisfaction; but
the fact is, he has taken fright on account of the new safe. The safe
arrived this morning and the men have been busy putting it up all day. It
is a wonderful safe, and they tell me there is not a burglar in the land
who can break into it. It is worth your while to come and see it, ma’am.”
“So I will presently,” answered Nance; “but tell me now about George.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Ferguson, “I never knew before that the lad had nerves;
but nerves he has and no mistake. The men called him to help them move
the plate into the safe. It was evidently a surprise to him to see such
a heap of splendid plate, and he came to me afterwards all white and
trembling.
“‘I had no idea there was so much plate in the house,’ he said. ‘It quite
frightens me, and I won’t take the responsibility of living in the same
place with it. I have heard of a place in London that I think will suit
me, and I’d like to go.’”
“Well, let him go,” said Nance.
“To be sure, ma’am. Foolish lad, to leave a first-class place of this
sort because he has got a bit of a scare. What has the plate to do with
him?”
Nance was silent.
“The inconvenience, too,” continued Mrs. Ferguson, knitting her brows,
and speaking with a touch of annoyance; “and just when Vickers had taken
the trouble to train him in. This will put too much work on Hamley, the
under-footman, and he don’t know his work as well as George. If my master
should come back unexpectedly, as he always does, we’ll not have the
place in the apple-pie order that I should like it to be in. I shall, of
course, look out for another servant immediately.”
“George must go,” said Nance. “There is no use in keeping an unwilling or
frightened servant in the place.”
“Very well, ma’am, of course you are right. I’ll send off a note by the
next post to the registry office in London, where I generally apply for
servants.”
“No, don’t do that,” answered Nance. “It is strange that you should have
spoken to me about George now, for it so happens that I heard only a few
moments ago of an excellent footman. I will write about him myself at
once. When does George want to leave?”
“Really, madam, he is quite unreasonable!”—the housekeeper laughed as she
spoke. “He says the sight of the plate has fairly shaken his nerves, and
he knows he’ll fancy burglars are breaking into the house every night
from this moment forward. I never saw a sensible lad in such a taking. He
wants to forfeit his month’s wages and get off as soon as possible.”
“Let him go,” answered Mrs. Rowton; “but pay him his wages, of course.
The new footman can arrive to-morrow or the next day at latest—now I’ll
come with you to see the new safe.”
The two women went into the butler’s pantry, where the men from London
were busy adjusting one of Clever’s patent safes. Nancy looked into it
with curiosity. The plate was lying about in all directions. It made
a dazzling and splendid show—silver trays, baskets, candelabra, table
ornaments of every description, coffee-pots, tea-pots, silver jugs, and
valuable silver hunting cups were lying on the shelves, and even on the
floor.
“What a quantity!” exclaimed the young mistress of Rowton Heights. “Will
the safe hold all these?” she asked, turning to one of the London workmen.
“Oh! yes, madam,” was the reply, “it is one of our very largest. Yes,”
he added, glancing at the silver which lay shining all about him; “there
is scarcely a country house that holds such treasure as this—to say
nothing,” he added, lowering his voice, “of the gold-plated articles and
the jewel case.”
“Will you have the goodness to come forward, madam?” said another man. “I
should like to show you the secret receptacle where the jewel case will
be placed.”
“I think I would rather not,” she said, turning white and frightened.
“As you please, madam,” said the man in some surprise; “but I surely
understood from Mr. Rowton that you were to be acquainted with the
workings of the safe.”
“Oh! if my husband wished it shown to me, that alters the matter,” said
Nance, the colour returning to her face.
She spent nearly an hour with the men, who explained the different keys
for opening the safe.