"And what did she say?" he asked.
"She shrank from the idea with horror," I was obliged to confess.
"You can scarcely blame her," said Brabazon. "Why should the poor
fellow's body be unnecessarily disturbed? The fact is, I have the
greatest faith in your judgment, Halifax, but I think in the present
instance you carry your sympathy for Ronald Carleton too far. The cause
of death in the case of poor Randall was so absolutely apparent, that I
do not think you will get the coroner to consent to a post-mortem."
"There is one thing that occurred to me," I said: "if Randall met his
death by violence, there would be some traces of a struggle at the spot
where he fell over. Randall would not tamely submit to murder--he was
a big man and muscular. Has the path along the cliff been carefully
searched?"
"Yes," replied Brabazon, "and there is no trace anywhere of a struggle.
A little blood has been discovered on a sharp point of rock just where
Carleton described the fall to have taken place. The marks of a heavy
body being dragged along the sands above high-water mark have also been
seen. All these evidences are, of course, I am bound to say, quite
consistent with Carleton's story. The blood on the rock indicates also
the exact spot of the accident."
"That was where the vault of the skull was broken," I said. "By the
way, you forgot to give me poor Randall's letter to his mother.
Doubtless Lady Hartmore would like to have it without a moment's delay."
Brabazon started, and put his hand in his pocket.
"I put the letter here," he said, "intending to give it to you as you
were starting; of course, I forgot it. Here it is; no, though, there is
nothing in my pocket. Surely I can't have dropped it anywhere. I know
I put it here this morning. I rushed up to the poor fellow's room to
fetch it just when the brougham was coming round."
"You did not give it to me," I said; "that letter ought to be found:
it may be of the utmost importance. Was that the coat you wore this
morning?"
"Yes, I have not been out of it all day; you don't know what a rush and
confusion the whole place has been in."
"You will look for the letter, won't you, Brabazon? I cannot quite tell
you why, but it will give me a sense of relief to know that it has been
found before the inquest takes place to-morrow morning."
Soon afterwards we parted. I went into one of the morning-rooms, where
I found Mrs. Brabazon. I made inquiries with regard to Carleton and
Miss Farnham.
"I have not seen either of them," replied my hostess. "I believe Mr.
Carleton has spent the day in his room, and a servant told me that
Barbara Farnham was not well. I hear she has not risen at all to-day."
"Poor girl!" I ejaculated.
Mrs. Brabazon looked at me with languid interest--she was a very
lethargic person.
"Yes," she ejaculated, after a pause--"this tragedy will be a sad blow
to Barbara. She is as ambitious as she is handsome. She would have made
a regal-looking Lady Hartmore."
I said nothing further--I could not betray the poor girl's secret, nor
let Mrs. Brabazon know what a small place high position and greatness
occupied just now in Miss Farnham's thoughts.
Just before the inquest the next morning, I asked Brabazon if the
missing letter had been found.
"No," he said--"I cannot tell you how vexed I am about it. Every
conceivable hole and corner both in the house and out has been
searched, but no trace of the letter has been discovered. What I fear
is that when I was down on the shore yesterday making investigations,
it may have dropped out of my pocket and been washed away with the
incoming tide. I cannot think of any other cause for its absolute
disappearance. I beg of you, Halifax, not to say anything to Lady
Hartmore about it for the present."
"Of course not," I answered, in some surprise at the request.
I then ran upstairs. I must, of course, be present at the inquest, but
I had still a moment at my disposal. I went boldly to Miss Farnham's
door and knocked. After a very brief pause she opened it herself
and stood before me. She was fully dressed. Her face was of a dead
white--all the beautiful warmth of colour had fled.
"I am told I must be present at the inquest," she said. "Is it time for
me to go downstairs? Have you come to fetch me?" She shuddered visibly
as she spoke.
"I have come to ask you to help me," I said, eagerly. "I will manage to
account for your absence in the library. Put on your hat; I want you to
go out at once."
"What do you mean?" she asked, in astonishment.
"I will tell you," I said. "On the day of his death Randall wrote a
letter to his mother. That letter has been lost. Brabazon had it in
his pocket and has dropped it--no one knows where. There is no saying,
Miss Farnham, what important evidence that letter may contain. I am
sure it is not in the house. Brabazon believes that he dropped it when
exploring the coast yesterday. Will you go at once and look for it? The
moment you discover it, bring it to the library. Now, be as quick as
ever you can."
"Yes," she replied, the soul in her eyes leaping up with a sudden
renewed joy. She turned, pinned a hat on her head, wrapped a shawl
round her, and ran downstairs. Her woman's wit grasped the whole
situation at a glance. I went to the library, feeling assured that if
poor Randall's letter were still in existence, Miss Farnham would find
it.
There were present at the inquest Lady Hartmore, Brabazon and his wife,
Carleton, and two gentlemen who had not yet left the house. Also, of
course, the coroner and the jury. The moment I entered the room I
glanced at the coroner; I had not seen him before. He was a little old
gentleman, with a somewhat irascible expression of face, and a testy
manner. I looked from him to poor Carleton, whom I had not seen since
the time when he told his story in this room. The body of the dead man
had been placed in a shell, and still occupied the central table of the
library. Lady Hartmore sat near it. A sheet covered the face of the
dead. Once I saw her raise her hand and touch the sheet reverently.
She had the attitude of one who was protecting the body from intended
violence. Her position and the look on her face reminded me of Rispah.
I looked again from her to Carleton. It was necessary for me to glance
at the poor fellow, and to notice the despair on his face, to enable
me to go up to the coroner, and urge upon him the necessity of a
post-mortem preceding the inquest. He did not take my suggestion kindly.
"The cause of death is abundantly evident," he said, with irritation.
"I cannot counsel a post-mortem examination."
"And I will not hear of it," said Lady Hartmore, looking at me with
eyes full of reproach.
"Pray say nothing more about it," exclaimed Carleton.