He lived up to the letter of his promise.
In an hour he had said when he walked out, and it was an hour to the
very tick of the minute when he came back.
Mr. Narkom knowing him so well, knowing how, in the final moments
of his _coups_, he was apt to become somewhat spectacular and
theatrical, looked for him to return with a flourish of trumpets
and carry all before him with a whirlwind rush; so that it came in
the nature of a great surprise, when with the calmness of a man
coming in to tea he entered the stable with a large stone bottle in
one hand and an hostler's sponge in the other.
"Well, gentlemen, I am here, you see," he said with extreme calmness.
"And"--indicating the bottle--"have brought something with me to
do honour to the event. No, not to drink--it is hardly that sort
of stuff. It is Spirit of Wine, Major. I found it over in Farrow's
cottage and have brought it with me--as he, poor chap, meant to do
in time himself. There are some wonderful things in Tom Farrow's
cottage, Major; they will pay for looking into, I assure you.
Pardon, Mr. Narkom? A criminal? Oh, no, my friend--a martyr!"
"A martyr?"
"Yes, your ladyship; yes, Major--a martyr. A martyr to his love, a
martyr to his fidelity. As square a man and as faithful a trainer
as ever set foot in a stable-yard--that's Tom Farrow. I take off my
hat to him. The world can do with more of his kind."
"But, my dear sir, you said that it was he that spirited away the
animal; that it was he and he alone who was responsible for her
disappearance."
"Quite so--and I say it again. Gently, gently, Major--I'll come to
it in a minute. Personally I should like to put it off to the last,
it's such a fine thing for a finish, by Jove! But--well it can't be
done under the circumstances. In other words, there is a part of
this little business this evening which I must ask Lady Mary not to
stop to either hear or see; but as she is naturally interested in
the matter of Highland Lassie's disappearance I will take up that
matter first and ask her to kindly withdraw after the filly has
been restored."
"Gad! you've found her, then? You've got her?"
"Yes, Major, I've got her. And as I promised that I would put her
bridle into your hand with the animal herself at the other end of it,
why--here you are!"
Speaking, he walked across to the box where the brown filly was
tethered, unbolted it, unfastened the animal and led her out.
"Here you are, Major," he said, as he tendered him the halter. "Take
hold of her, the beauty; and may she carry off the Derby Stakes with
flying colours."
"But, good lud, man, what on earth are you talking about? This is
Chocolate Maid--this is Lady Mary's horse."
"Oh, no, Major, oh, no! Chocolate Maid is in the stable at Farrow's
cottage--hidden away and half starved, poor creature, because he
couldn't go back to feed and look after her. This is your bonny
Highland Lassie--dyed to look like the other and to throw possible
horse nobblers and thieves off the scent. If you doubt it, look here."
He uncorked the bottle, poured some of the Spirit of Wine on the
sponge and rubbed the animal's brown flank. The dark colour came
away, the sorrel hide and the white splotch began to appear, and
before you could say Jack Robinson, the major and Lady Mary had
their arms about the animal's neck and were blubbing like a couple of
children.
"Oh, my bully girl! Oh, my spiffing girl! Oh, Mary, isn't it
clinking, dear? The Lassie--the Highland Lassie--her own bonny self."
"Yes, her own bonny self, Major," said Cleek "and you'd never have
had a moment's worry over her if that faithful fellow upstairs had
been suffered to get back here that night and to tell you about it in
the morning. I've had a little talk with--oh, well, somebody who is
in a position to give me information that corroborates my own
little 'shots' at the matter (I'll tell you all about that later
on), and so am able to tell you a thing or two that you ought to
have known before this! I don't know whether Lieutenant Chadwick's
coming here and prying about had any wish to do harm to the horse at
the back of it or not. I only know that Farrow thought it had,
and he played this little trick to block the game and to throw dust
into the eyes of anybody that attempted to get at her. What he did
then was to dye her so that she might be mistaken for Chocolate
Maid, then to take Chocolate Maid over to his own stable and hide
her there until the time came to start for Epsom. That's what he
wanted the pail of water for, Major--to mix the dye and to apply
it. I half suspected it from the beginning, but I became sure of it
when I found that scrap of paper in the bedding of the box. It
was still wet--a bit of the label from the dye-bottle which came off
in the operation. Between the poor chap's fingers I found stains of
the dye still remaining. Spirit of Wine would have removed it, but
washing in water wouldn't. Pardon, your ladyship? When did I begin
to suspect that Farrow was at the bottom of it? Oh, when first I
heard of the poisoned dog. Nobody ever heard it bark when the
poisoner approached the stables. That, of course, meant that the
person who administered the poison must have been some one with whom
it was familiar, and also some one who was already inside the
place, since even the first approaching step of friend or foe would
have called forth one solitary bark at least. Farrow didn't do the
thing by halves, you see. He meant it to look like a genuine case of
horse stealing to outsiders, and killing the dog gave it just that
touch of actuality which carries conviction. As for the rest--the
major must tell you that in private, your ladyship. The rest of this
little matter is for men alone."
Lady Mary bowed and passed out into the fast coming dusk; and, in
the stable the major, Cleek and Narkom stood together, waiting until
she was well beyond earshot.
"Now, Major, we will get down to brass tacks, as our American cousins
say," said Cleek, when that time at length came. "You would like to
know, I suppose, how poor Farrow came by his injuries and from whose
hand. Well, you shall. He was coming back from his cottage after
stabling the real Chocolate Maid there when the thing happened;
and he received those injuries for rushing to the defence of the
woman he loved, and attempting to thrash the blackguard who had
taken advantage of her trust and belief in him to spoil her life
forever. The woman was, of course, Maggie McFarland. The man was
your charming guest, Captain MacTavish!"
"Good God! MacTavish? MacTavish?"
"Yes, Major--the gallant captain who received such a sudden call to
rejoin his regiment as soon as he knew that Tom Farrow was likely to
recover and to speak. Perhaps you can understand now why Farrow and
the girl no longer seemed to 'hit it off together as formerly.'
The gallant captain had come upon the boards. Dazzled by the beauty
of him, tricked by the glib tongue of him, deluded into the belief
that she had actually 'caught a gentleman' and that he really meant
to make her his wife and take her away to India with him, when he
went, the silly, innocent, confiding little idiot became his victim
and threw over a good man's love for a handful of Dead Sea Fruit."
"Never for one instant had Tom Farrow an idea of this; but the
night before last as he crossed the moor--he knew! In the darkness
he stumbled upon the truth. He heard her crying out to the fellow
to do her justice, to keep his word and make her the honest wife
he had promised that she should be, and he heard, too, the man's
characteristic reply. You can guess what happened, Major, when
you know Tom Farrow. In ten seconds he was up and at that fellow
like a mad bull.
"The girl, terrified out of her life, screamed and ran away, seeing
the brave captain laying about him with his heavy, silver-headed
hunting crop as she fled. She never saw the end of the fight--she
never dared; but in the morning when there was no Tom Farrow to be
seen, she went out there on the moor and found him. She would have
spoken then had she dared, poor creature, but the man's threat was
an effective one. If she spoke he would do likewise. If she kept
silent she might go away and her disgrace be safely hidden. Which
she chose, we know."
"The damned hound!"
"Oh, no, Major, oh, no--that's too hard on hounds. The only houndlike
thing about that interesting gentleman was that he made an attempt
to 'get to cover' and to run away. I knew that he would--I knew that
that was his little dodge when he made that little excuse about
having to pack up his effects. He saw how the game was running
and he meant to slip the cable and clear out while he had the chance."
"And you let him do it?--you never spoke a word, but let the
blackguard do it? Gad, sir, I'm ashamed of you!"
"You needn't be, Major, on that score at least. Please remember that
I asked for a couple of grooms to be stationed on the moor. I gave
them their orders and then went on to Farrow's cottage alone. If they
have followed out those orders we shall soon see."
Here he stepped to the door of the stable, put his two forefingers
between his lips and whistled shrilly. In half a minute more the two
grooms came into the stable, and between them the gallant captain,
tousled and rather dirty, and with his beautiful hair and moustache
awry.
"Got him, my lads, I see," said Cleek.
"Yes, sir. Nabbed him sneakin' out the back way like you thought he
would, sir, and bein' as you said it was the major's orders, we
copped him on the jump and have been holdin' of him for further
orders ever since."
"Well, you can let him go now," said Cleek, serenely. "And just give
your attention to locking the door and lighting up. Major, Doctor,
Mr. Narkom, pray be seated. The dear captain is going to give you
all a little entertainment and the performance is about to begin.
As good with your fists as you are with a metal-headed hunting crop,
Captain?"
"None of your dashed business what I'm good at," replied the captain.
"Look here, Norcross----"
"You cut that at once!" roared the major. "If you open your head to
me, I'll bang it off you, you brute."
"Well, then you, Mr. Policeman----"
"Ready for you in a minute, Captain; don't get impatient," said
Cleek, as he laid aside his coat and began to roll up his sleeves.
"Rome wasn't built in a day--though beauty may be wrecked in a
minute. You'll have the time of your life this evening. You are
really too beautiful to live, Captain, and I'm going to come as near
to killing you as I know how without actually completing the job.
You see, that poor little Highland lassie hasn't a father or brother
to do this business for her, so she's kindly consented to my taking
it on in her behalf. I'm afraid I shall break that lovely nose
of yours, my gay gallant--and I don't give a damn if I do! A brute
that spoils a woman's life deserves to go through the world with
a mark to record it, and I'm going to put one on you to the best of
my ability. All seated, gentlemen? Right you are. Now then, Captain,
come on. Come on--you _swine_!"
* * * * *
It was twenty minutes later.
Lady Mary Norcross--deep in the obligatory business of dressing for
dinner--had just taken up a powder puff and was assiduously dabbing
the back of her neck, when the door behind her opened softly and the
voice of her liege lord travelled across the breadth of the room,
saying:
"Mary! May I come in a minute, dear? I just want to get my cheque
book out of your writing desk--that's all."
"Yes, certainly. Come in by all means," gave back her ladyship. "I'm
quite alone. Springer has finished with me, and oh! Good heavens!
Seton! My dear, my _dear_!"
"All right. Don't get frightened. It isn't mine. And it isn't his,
either--much of it. We've been having a little 'set to' at the
stable, and I got it hugging a policeman."
"Seton!"
"Yes--I know it's awful, but I simply couldn't help it. Demmit it,
Mary, don't look so shocked--I'd have _kissed_ the beggar as well,
if I thought I could acquire the trick of that heavenly 'jab with the
left' that way. I haven't had such a beautiful time since the day
I was twenty-one, darling; he fights like a blooming _angel_, that
chap."
"What chap? What on earth are you talking about?"
"That man Cleek. Weeping Widows! It was the prettiest job you ever
saw. We're sending the beggar over to the hospital--and----Tell you
all about it when I get back. Can't stop just now, dear. Bye, bye!"
Then the door closed with a smack, and man and cheque book were on
their way downstairs.