"Hullo, I say!" began Mr. Narkom, in amazement. "Why, what the
dickens----" But he was suffered to get no farther.
"You mind your P's and Q's! I warn you that anything you say will be
used against you!" interjected sharply and authoritatively the
voice of the constable. "Hawkins, you and Marlow keep close guard
over these chaps while me and Mr. Simpkins looks round for the
animal. I said it would be the work of gypsies, didn't I now, Mr.
Simpkins?" addressing the gamekeeper. "Come on and let's have a
look for the beast. Keep eyes peeled and gun at full cock, Mr.
Simpkins, and give un both barrels if un makes to spring at us.
This be a sharp capture, Mr. Simpkins--what?"
"Aye, but un seems to take it uncommon cool, Mr. Nippers--one of
'em's larfiin' fit to bust hisself!" replied the gamekeeper as
Cleek slapped both thighs, and throwing back his head, voiced an
appreciative guffaw. "Un doan't look much loike gypsies either
from t' little as Ah can see of 'em in this tomfool loight. Wait
a bit till Ah scoop up an armful o' leaves and throw 'em on the
embers o' fire yon."
He did so forthwith; and the moment the dry leaves fell on the
remnants of the fire which the caravanners had used to cook their
evening meal there was a gush of aromatic smoke, a sudden puff, and
then a broad ribbon of light rushed upward and dispelled every trace
of darkness. And by the aid of that ribbon of light Mr. Nippers
saw something which made him almost collapse with astonishment
and chagrin.
The great of the world may, and often do, forget their meetings
with the small fry, but the small fry never cease to remember their
meetings with the great, or to treasure a vivid remembrance of that
immortal day when they were privileged to rub elbows with the elect.
Five years had passed since Mrs. Maverick Narkom, seeking a place
wherein to spend the summer holidays with the little Narkoms and
their nurses, had let her choice fall upon Winton-Old-Bridges
and had dwelt there for two whole months. Three times during her
sojourn her liege lord had come down for a week-end with his wife
and children, and during one of these brief visits, meeting Mr.
Ephraim Nippers, the village constable in the public highway, he
had deigned to stop and speak to the man and to present him with a
sixpenny cigar.
Times had changed since then; Mr. Nippers was now head constable
for the district, but he still kept that cigar under a glass
shade on the drawing-room whatnot, and he still treasured a vivid
recollection of the great man who had given it to him and whom he
now saw sitting on the ground with his coat off and his waistcoat
unbuttoned, his moustache uncurled, wisps of dried grass clinging
to his tousled hair, and all the dignity of office conspicuous by its
absence.
"Oh, lummy!" said Mr. Nippers with a gulp. "Put down the hammers of
them guns, you two--put 'em down quick! It's Mr. Narkom--Mr. Maverick
Narkom, superintendent at Scotland Yard!"
"Hullo!" exclaimed Mr. Narkom, shading his eyes from the firelight
and leaning forward to get a clearer view of the speaker. "How the
dickens do you know that, my man? And who the dickens are you,
anyway? Can't say that I remember ever seeing your face before."
Mr. Nippers hastened to explain that little experience of five years
ago; but the circumstance which had impressed itself so deeply upon
his memory had passed entirely out of the superintendent's.
"Oh, that's it, is it?" said he. "Can't say that I recall the
occasion; but Mrs. Narkom certainly did stop at Winton-Old-Bridges
some four or five summers ago, so of course it's possible. By the
way, my man, what caused you to make this sudden descent upon us? And
what are these chaps who are with you bearing arms for? Anything up?"
"Oh, lummy, sir, yes! A murder's just been committed--leastwise it's
only just been discovered; but it can't have been long since it _was_
committed, Mr. Narkom, for Miss Renfrew, who found him, sir, and
give the alarm, she says as the poor dear gentleman was alive at a
quarter to eight, 'cause she looked into the room at that time to
ask him if there was anything he wanted, and he spoke up and told
her no, and went on with his figgerin' just the same as usual."
"As usual?" said Cleek. "Why do you say 'as usual,' my friend? Was
the man an accountant of some sort?"
"Lummy! no, sir. A great inventor is what he is--or was, poor
gentleman. Reckon you must 'a' heard of un some time or another--most
everybody has. Nosworth is the name, sir--Mr. Septimus Nosworth of
the Round House. You could see the tower of it over yon if you
was to step out into the road and get clear of these trees."
Cleek was on his feet like a flash.
"Not the great Septimus Nosworth?" he questioned eagerly. "Not
the man who invented Lithamite?--the greatest authority on high
explosives in England? Not that Septimus Nosworth, surely?"
"Aye--him's the one, poor gentleman. I thought it like as the name
would be familiar, sir. A goodish few have heard of un, one way and
another."
"Yes," acquiesced Cleek. "Lithamite carried his name from one end
of the globe to the other; and his family affairs came into unusual
prominence in consequence. Widower, wasn't he?--hard as nails and
bitter as gall. Had an only son, hadn't he?--a wild young blade who
went the pace: took up with chorus girls, music hall ladies, and
persons of that stripe, and got kicked out from under the parental
roof in consequence."
"Lummy, now! think of you a-knowin' about all that!" said Mr.
Nippers, in amazement. "But then, your bein' with Mr. Narkom and
him bein' what he is--why, of course! Scotland Yard it do know
everything, I'm told, sir."
"Yes--it reads the papers occasionally, Mr. Nippers," said Cleek. "I
may take it from your reply, may I not, that I am correct regarding
Mr. Septimus Nosworth's son?"
"Indeed, yes, sir--right as rain. Leastwise, from what I've heard. I
never see the young gentleman, myself. Them things you mention
happened before Mr. Nosworth come to live in these parts--a matter
of some four years or more ago. Alwuss had his laboratory here,
sir--built it on the land he leased from Sir Ralph Droger's father
in the early sixties--and used to come over frequent and shut
hisself in the Round House for days on end; but never come here to
live until after that flare-up with Master Harry. Come then and
built livin' quarters beside the Round House and, after a piece,
fetched Miss Renfrew and old Patty Dax over to live with un."
"Miss Renfrew and old Patty Dax? Who are they?"
"Miss Renfrew is his niece, sir--darter of a dead sister. Old Patty
Dax, she war the cook. I dunno what her be now, though--her died
six months ago and un hired Mistress Armroyd in her place. French
piece, her am, though bein' widder of a Lancashire man, and though I
doan't much fancy foreigners nor their ways, this I will say: her
keeps the house like a pin and her cookin's amazin' tasty--indeed,
yes."
"You are an occasional caller in the servants' hall, I see, Mr.
Nippers," said Cleek, serenely, as he took up his coat and shook
it, preparatory to putting it on. "I think, Mr. Narkom, that in
the interests of the public at large it will be well for some one
a little more efficient than the local constabulary to look into
this case, so, if you don't mind making yourself a trifle more
presentable, it will be as well for us to get Mr. Nippers to show
us the way to the scene of the tragedy. While you are doing it I
will put a few 'Headland' questions to our friend here if you don't
mind assuring him that I am competent to advise."
"Right you are, old chap," said Narkom, taking his cue. "Nippers,
this is Mr. George Headland, one of the best of my Yard detectives.
He'll very likely give you a tip or two in the matter of detecting
crimes, if you pay attention to what he says."
Nippers "paid attention" forthwith. The idea of being in consultation
with any one connected with Scotland Yard tickled his very soul;
and, in fancy, he already saw his name getting into the newspapers
of London, and his fame spreading far beyond his native weald.
"I won't trouble you for the full details of the murder, Mr.
Nippers," said Cleek. "Those, I fancy, this Miss Renfrew will be
able to supply when I see her. For the present, tell me: how many
other occupants does the house hold beyond these two of whom you
have spoken--Miss Renfrew and the cook, Mrs. Armroyd?"
"None, sir, but the scullery maid, Emily, and the parlour maid,
Clark. But both of them is out to-night, sir--havin' went to a
concert over at Beattie Corners. A friend of Mistress Armroyd's sent
her two tickets, and her not bein' able to go herself, her thought
it a pity for 'em to be wasted, so her give 'em to the maids."
"I see, no male servants at all, then?"
"No, sir; not one. There's Jones--the handy man--as comes in mornin's
to do the rough work and the haulin' and carryin' and things
like that; and there's the gardener and Mr. Kemper--him as is Mr.
Nosworth's assistant in the laboratory, sir--but none of 'em is
ever in the house after five o'clock. Set against havin' men sleep
in the house was Mr. Nosworth--swore as never another should after
him and Master Harry had their fallin' out. Why, sir, he was
that bitter he'd never even allow Mr. Charles to set foot in the
place, just because him and Master Harry used to be friends--which
makes it precious hard on Miss Renfrew, I can tell you."
"As how? Is this 'Mr. Charles' connected with Miss Renfrew in any
way?"
"Lummy! yes, sir--he's her young man. Been sweet on each other
ever since they was in pinafores; but never had no chance to marry
because Mr. Charles--Mr. Charles Drummond is his full name, sir--he
hasn't one shillin' to rub against another, and Miss Renfrew she's a
little worse off than him. Never gets nothin', I'm told, for keepin'
house for her uncle--just her food and lodgin' and clothes--and
her slavin' like a nigger for him the whole blessed time. Keeps
his books and superintends the runnin' of the house, she do, but
never gets a brass farthin' for it, poor girl. I don't like to
speak ill of the dead, Mr. Headland, sir, but this I must say: A rare
old skinflint was Mr. Septimus Nosworth--wouldn't part with a
groat unless un was forced to. But praise be, her'll get her dues
now; fegs, yes! unless old skinflint went and changed his will
without her knowin'."
"Oho!" said Cleek, with a strong rising inflection. "His will was
made in Miss Renfrew's favour, was it?"
"Aye. That's why her come and put up with un and all his
hardheartedness--denyin' her the pleasure o' ever seein' her young
man just because him and Master Harry had been friends and
playmates when t' pair of un was just boys in knickers and broad
collars. There be a stone heart for you."
"Rather. Now one more question: I think you said it was Miss Renfrew
who gave the alarm when the murder was discovered, Mr. Nippers. How
did she give it and to whom?"
"Eh, now! to me and Mistress Armroyd, of course. Me and her war
sittin' in the kitchen havin' a bite o' supper at the time. Gorham,
he war there, too, in the beginnin'; but un didn't stop, of
course--'twouldn't 'a' done for the pair of us to be off duty
together."
"Oh! is Gorham a constable, then?"
"Aye--under constable: second to me. Got un appointed six months
ago. Him had just gone a bit of a time when Miss Renfrew come
rushin' in and shrieked out about the murder; but he heard the
rumpus and came poundin' back, of course. I dunno what I'd 'a' done
if un hadn't, for Miss Renfrew her went from one faintin' fit to
another--'twas just orful. Gorham helped Ah to carry her up to
the sittin'-room, wheer Mistress Armroyd burnt feathers under her
nose, and when we'd got her round a bit we all three went outside
and round to the laboratory. That's when we first see the prints of
the animal's feet. Mistress Armroyd spied 'em first--all over the
flower bed just under the laboratory window."
"Oho! then that is what you meant when you alluded to an 'animal'
when you pounced down upon us, was it? I see. One word more: what
kind of an animal was it? Or couldn't you tell from the marks?"
"No, sir, I couldn't--nobody could unless it might be Sir Ralph
Droger. He'll be like to, if anybody. Keeps all sorts of animals and
birds and things in great cages in Droger Park, does Sir Ralph. One
thing I can swear to, though, sir: they warn't like the footprints
of any animal as I ever see. Theer be a picture o' St. Jarge and the
Dragon on the walls o' Town Hall at Birchampton, Mr. Headland, sir,
and them footprints is more like the paws of that dragon than
anything else I can call to mind. Scaly and clawed they is--like
the thing as made 'em was part bird and part beast--and they're a
good twelve inches long, every one of 'em."
"Hum-m-m! That's extraordinary. Deeply imprinted, are they?"
"Lummy! yes, sir. The animal as made 'em must have weighed ten or
twelve stone at least. Soon as I see them, sir, I knowed I had my
work cut out, so I left Gorham in charge of the house, rattled up
these two men and Mr. Simpkins, here--which all three is employed
at Droger Park, sir--and set out hot foot to look for gypsies."
"Why?"
"'Cause Mistress Armroyd she says as she see a gypsy lurkin' round
the place just before dark, sir; and he had a queer thing like a
bear's muzzle in his hand."
"Ah, I see!" said Cleek; and gave one of his odd smiles as he
turned round and looked at the superintendent. "All ready, Mr.
Narkom? Good! Let us go over to the Round House and investigate
this interesting case. Dollops, stop where you are and look after
the caravan. If we are away more than a couple of hours, tumble
into bed and go to sleep. We may be a short time or we may be a
long one. In affairs like this one never knows."
* * * * *
"Any ideas, old chap?" queried Narkom in a whisper as they forged
along together in the wake of Nippers and his three companions.
"Yes--a great many," answered Cleek. "I am particularly anxious, Mr.
Narkom, to have a look at those footprints and an interview with Miss
Renfrew. I want to meet that young lady very much indeed."