“Begging your pardon, Colonel,” the constable said, “but they’ve been
ringing up from your house continuous to say Mrs. Meston’s there and
won’t go away again till she’s seen young Mr. Loring. She was here
earlier, saying you said she was to see him; but not ’aving your
instructions, of course, we couldn’t do anything. Now she’s in your
drawing-room, your ’ousekeeper says--been there over a hower making a
great to-do.”
“Good Lord!” the Colonel said. “I quite forgot--I did tell her she
might see him.”
“Well, hadn’t she better?” Wilson suggested. “You could send for
her--or, perhaps better, take the young man over to your house. You
might even lend them a room for an hour or two.” He smiled. “If
you’ll allow me, I’ll take him over myself. There’s one little bit of
information I want from Mrs. Meston, and I think she’s perhaps more
likely to give it me if I come with an olive-branch.”
The Colonel was only too willing to oblige, and in a very few minutes
Wilson, with a rather dazed young man packed unostentatiously by
his side, drove off for the Colonel’s house. John Loring was too
bewildered by the sudden turn of events to make many comments; in
fact, it was the almost irrelevant feature of Hanborough’s behaviour
that appeared to interest him most.
“I’d never have thought it of Nick,” he said. “The chap would have
made a damned good poker-player, keeping his face like that. Of
course, everybody knew Kershaw was a rotter--he lost his first job
through killing a girl he’d got into a mess. Illegal operation, you
know.”
“Was that it? I wondered what had happened; but nobody seemed to
know.”
“I don’t think anybody hereabouts did,” said John, “except Godfrey.
Godfrey always knows everything of that sort. He chucked it at
Kershaw one evening when they were having a row, and I was there,
and Kershaw went green as grass. He made me swear not to tell,
though--Godfrey did, I mean. I suppose he wanted to keep it up his
own sleeve. Anyway, I didn’t want to split on the poor devil; it was
all over and done with. I suppose that he’ll get it in the neck now?”
“I trust they all will,” said Wilson grimly, as they pulled up at
Colonel Lockwood’s door. He entered the drawing-room, with John
behind him, and faced a figure of blazing reproach.
“What do you mean by _promising_----” Sylvia began, and then caught
sight of the other intruder. “_Oh!_” she said. “_John!_” And suddenly
her lip quivered, and Wilson saw tears in her eyes for the first time.
In two strides, John Loring had crossed the room and taken her in his
arms. There was a long silence.
“I thought,” John said triumphantly, “you wanted me to go back to
China.”
“I thought you’d gone,” said Sylvia. “You do jump to conclusions,
don’t you?”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Wilson said tactfully, “I think I’d better go
and tidy up some of my notes.”
Half an hour later he returned, having actually finished working
up the full notes of the case, and having learned from the
police-station that neither Kershaw nor Hanborough had yet been
caught. He found two happy sinners engaged in a sort of friendly
recrimination on the couch, one of them with his arm unashamedly
round the other’s waist. As he entered they looked up with radiant
faces.
“Well, how goes it?” Wilson asked.
“Quite up to sample,” Sylvia said. “John’s been telling me you’ve
released him, and I’ve been telling him you’d have released him long
ago if he hadn’t been such a fool as not to say where he was.”
“What would have been the good if I had?” John inquired. “You could
only have sworn I didn’t touch him. And who’s going to believe a
little liar like you? You’ll have to mend your ways now, my girl.”
“Don’t you wish you could make me?” Sylvia said. “Did we mention we
were thinking of getting married, Mr. Wilson?”
“My heartiest congratulations,” Wilson said. “I think it will do you
both a world of good.”
“That, darling,” said Sylvia, “is meant as a nasty one for me. Mr.
Wilson doesn’t think I’m reliable.”
“Well, good God, who wants you to be?” said John Loring, kissing her
with a sudden fierce movement. “Do you suppose I want to marry a
reliable person? Don’t you agree, Mr. Wilson?”
“My wife,” said Wilson, with a sudden descent into sententiousness,
“says that the most reliable-looking people are often those you can’t
depend on.”
“Oh dear!” said Sylvia, “is there a Mrs. Wilson? If so, I’ve been
wasting a lot on you. You look to me an incurably faithful man.”
“Hopeless, I’m afraid,” said Wilson. “But why not try Dr.
Prendergast? He’s not married.”
“Dr. Prendergast!” Sylvia said. “Why don’t you say the inkstand?”
“Oh, leave the man alone, you she-devil,” her lover interrupted. “You
haven’t yet thanked him for bringing you back a husband from the
foot of the gallows. He did it all, you know. I suppose it _is_ all
right?” he added to Wilson.
“As far as you’re concerned, perfectly,” was the reply. “There’s only
one bit of information I’m lacking, apart from what I hope to get
from Potts and Kershaw. Could you tell me, Mrs. Meston, whether at
any time, after Mr. Loring’s departure for China, Mr. Godfrey Loring
ever asked you to marry him?”
“He didn’t _ask_ me,” Sylvia said. “He took it for granted I would.
That’s partly why I married William--to get away from him. Ugh!” She
gave a shiver.
“The beast!” John Loring cried, with an irrepressible movement of his
fist. “If I get my hands on him----”
“For mercy’s sake, John, don’t murder anybody else!” Sylvia said.
“Anybody else! You talk as if _I_ had murdered Meston. Blowed if I
don’t believe you thought I did.”
“Well, how was I to know?” Sylvia asked, reasonably. “I’m very glad
you didn’t, but you can’t say you wouldn’t have if you’d thought
of it. That’s why I went away. I didn’t want Mr. Wilson asking me
questions about your sweet temper.”
“D’you really think I’d go and hang a man in cold blood?”
“You’re very particular,” said Sylvia. “If you were going to kill me,
I shouldn’t very much mind how you did it.”
“I’ll remember that,” John promised, “when I do.”
* * * * *
“Are you going to catch Kershaw?” John asked, after an interlude.
“I think so,” Wilson assured him.
“I wonder what gave him the tip to clear out. You didn’t tell any one
you were going up to the Grange, did you?”
“No,” said Wilson, who was looking out of the window. “But I fancy I
know the answer to your question, for all that. In fact, I believe
I see the answer coming. Wait a minute; I want to surprise him.” He
went out into the hall, and had a brief conversation with the maid.
Immediately afterwards the front door opened, there was a sound of
voices, and the maid threw open the drawing-room door.
“Mr. Brandreth, sir,” she announced.
For once in his life the little lawyer seemed disconcerted.
Obviously, he had not expected to find the group in the drawing-room.
He looked round a little nervously, licked his lips, and backed
towards the door. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “I thought Colonel
Lockwood----”
“Would provide you with a little more exclusive information.” Wilson
finished the sentence grimly. “Just so. But, you know, I think it’s
your turn. Mr. Brandreth, what exactly have you been up to?”
“I? Nothing,” said the lawyer.
“Perhaps if I made my question a little more specific--What exactly
did you tell Kershaw?”
“Why, that you’d been looking in the loft. Plenty of people could
have told him that, as a matter of fact. But I just happened to be
passing.”
“Oh, you did, did you? When? How long after you had that conversation
with Lockwood and myself about your boots?”
“Oh, five or ten minutes, perhaps,” said Brandreth airily.
“In fact, you went immediately and warned him to clear out. Do you
know that there are legal penalties for aiding a murderer to escape,
Mr. Brandreth?”
“Dear, dear,” said the lawyer. “Is Kershaw a murderer? You really
do surprise me. I should have thought him incapable of it. But, Mr.
Wilson, you policemen should take the public into your confidence a
little more, you know. Why, any one of us may be helping a murderer
to escape, quite innocently, if you won’t tell us who he is. You
bring it on yourselves, really you do; and you might so easily have
let me get myself into serious trouble. As it happens, of course,
I didn’t assist him. I merely passed on a piece of common news. In
fact, I fear I even hindered his flight, by refusing to lend him
money. I’ve had to give up the pleasure of lending Kershaw money for
some time past. His requirements are too comprehensive.”
Wilson bit his lip. “I see. And then you went on and warned the
Squire?”
“Indeed I did not,” said Brandreth virtuously. “I have not been near
the Grange. I assure you, I had not the least idea----”
“Or you would have gone there too. It would not surprise me greatly,
Mr. Brandreth, if you found yourself in jail one of these days.”
The lawyer laughed. “And the worst of it is,” he said, “that when I
am caught, the bootprint department will instantly recognise me as an
old offender.”