AN EXPLANATION
In pursuance of this plan Gifford proposed to his friend that they should
call at Wynford Place on the next day. Kelson had returned from the
Tredworths in high spirits, the news he carried there having lifted a
weight off his fiancée's mind and indeed restored the happiness of the
whole family. There was no cloud over the engagement now, and they could
all look forward to the marriage without a qualm.
If Kelson might, in ordinary circumstances, have wondered at the motive
for his friend's proposal, which was but thinly disguised, he was in too
happy a state of preoccupation to trouble his head about it.
"I'm your man," he responded promptly. "It so happens that Muriel is
lunching at Wynford to-morrow, so it will suit me well enough. I
shouldn't be surprised if we get a note in the morning asking us to
lunch there too."
The morning, however, brought no note of invitation; a failure
which rather surprised Kelson, although Gifford thought he could
account for it.
Nevertheless he determined to go and do his best to get a private talk
with Edith Morriston, however disinclined she might be to grant it. The
two men went up to Wynford early in the afternoon, but it was a long time
before Gifford got the opportunity he sought. Edith Morriston seemed as
friendly and gracious as ever, but whether by accident or design she gave
no chance for Gifford to get in a private word. With the knowledge of
what he had seen on the previous afternoon and of the change in her
attitude he was too shrewd to show any anxiety for a confidential talk.
He watched her closely when he could do so unobserved, but her face gave
no sign of trouble or embarrassment. He wondered if there could after all
be anything in his idea of persecution, and the more curious he became
the more determined he grew to find out. But somehow Miss Morriston
contrived that they should never be alone together; when Kelson and
Muriel Tredworth strolled off lover-like, Miss Morriston kept her brother
with her to make a third.
The three went round to the stables and inspected the hunters, then
through the shrubbery to admire a wonderful bed of snowdrops. As they
stood there looking over the undulating park, and Gifford, curbing his
impatience, was talking of certain changes which had taken place since
his early days there, the butler was seen hurrying towards them.
"Callers, I suppose," Morriston observed with a half-yawn. "What is
it, Stent?"
"Could I speak to you, sir?" the man said, stopping short a little
distance away.
Morriston went forward to him, and after they had spoken together he
turned round, and with an "Excuse me for a few minutes," went off towards
the house with the butler.
So at last the opportunity had come. Gifford glanced at his companion and
noticed that her face had gone a shade paler than before the
interruption.
"I wonder what can be the matter," she observed, a little anxiously
Gifford thought. Then she laughed. "I dare say it is nothing; Stent is
becoming absurdly fussy; and all the alarms and discoveries we have had
lately have not diminished the tendency."
"The latest discovery must have come rather as a relief," Gifford
ventured tentatively.
"The marks on my dress you mean?" She laughed. "So far that I now share
with Muriel Tredworth the suspicion of knowing all about the tragedy."
"Hardly that," Gifford replied with a smile. "There can be no cause for
that fear. By the way," he added more seriously, "I owe you an account of
my failure to gain any information for you with regard to Mr. Gervase
Henshaw's plans."
"He is not communicative?" Miss Morriston suggested casually.
Gifford shook his head. "No, I am never able to get hold of him. In fact,
it seems as though he rather makes a point of avoiding us. And if we do
meet, he is vagueness and reticence personified."
They were walking slowly back along the shrubbery path. The girl turned
to him for an instant, her expression softened in a look of gratitude.
"It is very kind of you, Mr. Gifford, to take all this trouble for us.
And I am sure it is not your fault that the result is not what you might
wish. It was rather absurd of me to set you the task. But I am none the
less grateful. Please think that, and do not bother about it any more."
"But if the man is likely to annoy you," he urged. "Have you longer any
reason to fear him?"
She turned swiftly. "Fear him? What do you mean?"
"We thought he might be unscrupulous and might make himself
objectionable."
She shrugged. "I dare say it is possible."
"I must confess," he pursued, "I can't quite make the fellow out. Nor his
motive for remaining in the place. Your brother told me he came across
him hanging about in one of your plantations."
He thought the blood left her face for an instant, but otherwise she
showed no sign of discomposure.
"How did he account for his being there?" she asked calmly.
"Unsatisfactorily enough. I forget his actual excuse."
"Was that all?" she demanded coldly.
"I believe so. But it is hardly desirable, as your brother said, to have
the man prowling about the property."
For a moment she was silent. "No," she said as though by an afterthought.
Her manner troubled him. "I hope he is not attempting to annoy you," he
said searchingly.
She looked surprised and, he thought, a little resentful at his question.
"Me?" she returned coldly. "By hanging about in the plantation?"
"If he goes no farther than that--"
"Why should he?" she demanded in the same rather chilling tone.
"I don't know," Gifford replied, set back by her manner. "Except that I
have no high opinion of the fellow. It occurred to me he might possibly
attempt to persecute you."
She glanced round at him curiously with a little disdainful smile. "What
makes you think he would do that?" she returned.
Her attitude was to him not convincing. He felt there was a certain
reservation beneath the rather cutting tone. "I am glad to know there is
no question of that," he replied with quiet earnestness. "I hope if
anything of the kind should occur and you should need a friend you will
not overlook me."
"You are very kind," she responded, but without turning towards him. He
thought, however, that her low tone had softened, and it gave him hope.
"I should scarcely take upon myself to suggest this," he said, "but I am
emboldened by two facts. One that you have already asked me to be your
ally, your friend, in this business, the other that there is something
about Henshaw and his actions which I do not understand. I hope you will
forgive my boldness."
His companion had glanced round now, keenly, as though to probe for the
meaning which might lie beneath his words. He speculated whether she
might be wondering how much he knew; was he cognisant of her meeting
with Henshaw?
But, whatever her thought, she answered in the same even voice, "There is
nothing to forgive. On the contrary I am most grateful."
They were nearing the house, and Gifford was debating whether he dared
suggest another turn along the shrubbery path, when Richard Morriston
appeared at the hall door, beckoned to them, and went in again.
"I wonder what Dick wants. Has anything more come to light?" Miss
Morriston observed with a rather bored laugh as she slightly
quickened her pace.
As they went in she called, "Dick!" and he answered her from the library.
There they found him with Kelson and Muriel Tredworth. A glance at their
faces told Gifford that they were all in a state of scarcely suppressed
excitement.
"I say, Edith, what do you think?" her brother exclaimed. "We've made a
rather important discovery. Were you in the middle room of the tower
during the dance?"
For a moment his sister did not answer.
"No; I don't think I was," she said, with what seemed to Gifford a
certain amount of apprehension in her eyes, although her expression was
calm enough.
"Oh, but, my dear girl, you must have been," Morriston insisted
vehemently. "We have found the explanation of the stains on Miss
Tredworth's dress and on yours."
"You have?" his sister replied, looking at him curiously.
"Yes; beyond all doubt. The mystery is made clear. Come and see."
He led the way across the hall and up the first story of the tower.
"There's the explanation," he said, pointing to some dark red patches on
the back of a sofa and on the carpet below.
"It is not a pleasant idea," Morriston said; "but you see these marks are
directly under the place where the dead man lay in the room above. The
blood from his wound evidently ran through the chinks of the flooring on
to the beams of the ceiling here and so fell drop by drop on the couch
and on any one sitting there. Rather gruesome, but I am sure we must be
all very glad to get the simple explanation. The only wonder is that no
one thought of it before."
"Muriel was sitting just at that end of the sofa when I proposed to her,"
Kelson said in a low voice to Gifford.
"I am delighted the matter is so completely accounted for," his friend
returned. "What fools we were ever to have taken it so tragically."
But his expression changed as he glanced at Edith Morriston; she had
denied that she had been in the room.
"I have sent down to the police to tell them of the discovery," Morriston
was saying. "The fact is that since the tragedy the servants appear to
have rather shunned this part of the house, or at any rate to have
devoted as little time to it as possible. Otherwise this would have come
to light sooner. Anyhow it is a source of congratulation to Miss
Tredworth and you, Edith. Of course you must have been in here."
"I remember sitting just there; ugh!" Miss Tredworth said with a shudder.
"I can swear to that," Kelson corroborated with a knowing smile.
"You must have done the same or brushed against the sofa, Edith,"
Morriston said cheerfully. "Well, I'm glad that's settled, although it
brings us no nearer towards solving the mystery of what happened
overhead."
"No," Kelson remarked. "It looks as though that was going to remain
a mystery."
The butler came in. "Major Freeman is here, sir," he said, "with Mr.
Henshaw, and would like to speak to you."
Morriston looked surprised. "Alfred has been very quick. We sent him off
only about a quarter of an hour ago."
"Alfred met Major Freeman and Mr. Henshaw with the detective just beyond
the lodge gates, sir."
"Then they were coming up here independently of my message?"
"Yes, sir. Alfred gave Major Freeman the message and came back."
Morriston moved towards the door. "I will see these gentlemen at
once," he said.
"In the library, sir."
Involuntarily Gifford had glanced at Edith Morriston. She was standing
impassively with set face; and at his glance she turned away to the
window. But not before he had caught in her eyes a look which he hated to
see, a look which seemed to confirm a suspicion already in his mind.