CONSTABLE APPLEBEE DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF.
Constable Applebee, seeking shelter from the storm beneath the roof of
Deadman's Court, kept his face and his thoughts in the direction of
Samuel Boyd's house, for such complete possession had the mystery
taken of him that lightning, wind, and rain were powerless to drive it
from his mind. Besides which, as he afterwards informed his wife, he
had a presentiment that "something was going to happen." The latest
flash of lightning caused him to clap his hand instinctively upon his
eyes; the crash of thunder that followed caused him to drop his hand.
Then, as though the elements had exhausted themselves, there was a
sudden hush, for the sound of the fast-falling rain was faint in his
ears after the deafening thunderpeal. So faint, indeed, that, in the
belief that the storm was spent, he stepped into Catchpole Square and
looked around, distinguishing only the outlines of the buildings
because of the darkness of the night. Almost on the instant the door
of Samuel Boyd's house was violently opened, and a man rushed out,
slamming it behind him. With such frantic haste did he run that he
came into collision with the constable, and both were nearly upset.
They recovered their equilibrium simultaneously, and before the man
could get his breath Applebee proved himself equal to the occasion.
"Easy, there!" he exclaimed, and with one hand caught the man by the
throat, while with the other he raised his whistle to his lips, and
blew a loud and vigorous summons for assistance.
"Let me go!" cried the man, struggling to get free. "Come into the
house with me--quick, quick, or the murderers will escape!"
"_You_ don't escape," said Applebee. "Keep still, or I'll knock you on
the head." And he tightened his hand on the man's throat.
At this moment his summons for assistance was answered by the
respectable mechanic who had twice inquired the way to Holborn.
"What's up?" he inquired.
Applebee pulled out his bull's eye lamp, and turned its light upon the
new arrival. "Oh, it's you," he said. "I call upon you in the Queen's
name to assist me in arresting this man."
"Right you are," replied Lambert, in the half tipsy voice of the
mechanic.
"Are you mad?" cried the man. "They will escape, I tell you! Come with
me into that house!"
"Keep still!" growled Applebee, shaking his captive roughly.
"What do you charge him with?" asked Lambert, keeping up the fiction.
"Murder," said Applebee. "The murder of Samuel Boyd!"
"That's a find," said Lambert. "Let's have a look at him." And to the
constable's astonishment he also pulled out a bull's-eye lamp.
"Who are you?" demanded Applebee.
"My name is Lambert," said the detective, dropping his disguise.
"I might have guessed it; but don't forget that _I_ made this arrest."
"You shall have the credit of it." The light of two bull's-eye lamps
was thrown upon the man's face. "By George! It's Dick Remington."
"Absent on business," observed Applebee, sarcastically. "The murder's
out. What's that he's dropped?" Lambert picked it up. "A mask!"
It was the mask of a Chinaman's face; and moreover, Dick's outer
garment was that of a Mongolian, resembling the garment of the wax
figure in the office from which but a few minutes ago he had escaped.
"Look here, Mr. Lambert, look here, Applebee," said Dick, eagerly----
"Stop, Dick Remington," interrupted Lambert. "Don't you think you had
better shut your mouth? We're bound to take you to the station, and
charge you. When you're brought before the magistrate you can tell
your story if you like. Take my advice."
"So far as my story is concerned I will," said Dick, "but in that
house are the murderers of Samuel Boyd. For heaven's sake don't leave
the place without arresting them!"
"If he gets us into the house," remarked Applebee, "we're done for."
"We shall be three to two," urged Dick, despairingly.
"If your story's true," corrected Applebee, "we shall be two to three.
What's this in your hand? A sword-stick?"
"No," said Dick, and his heart fell; he was beginning to realise the
danger he was in, "it is not a weapon. I will explain everything at
the proper time. Mr. Lambert, I implore you to search that house."
"Constable Applebee has spoken like a careful and sensible man," said
Lambert, "but we'll see if we can equalise matters." Taking his police
call from his pocket he sent his summons through Deadman's Court.
"Blow yours, too, Applebee."
The first to answer the call was Constable Pond, to whom the affair
was hastily explained; and presently they were joined by another
officer.
"I see no harm in humouring Mr. Remington," then said Lambert. "Pond,
you and this officer keep watch in the Square while we go into the
house. There's only one way out of it, and there's only one way out of
the Square."
"There's the wall at the back," said Dick.
"Which they've got over before this time----"
"Supposing," Applebee put in, "there was anyone to get over it."
"Yes, supposing that. When daylight comes we shall be able to
ascertain if there are any fresh marks of a grapnel there." Dick set
his teeth; his rope and grapnel were under the bed of his room in
Constable Pond's house. "You wish to go into the house with us, Mr.
Remington?"
"Yes."
"We must handcuff you. Give me the stick." He took possession of it,
and Dick, with a groan, held out his hands. "Behind your back, Mr.
Remington. I am sorry for the necessity, but there's no help for it.
There, that's comfortable. Have you the key of the street door?"
"In my trousers' pocket."
Lambert put his hand beneath Dick's outer garment, and took the key
from the pocket. Then he showed his revolver. "If we're attacked,
Applebee, I'll account for the two men. Now, then." He opened the
door. "You go first, Mr. Remington. Applebee, keep behind me, and be
prepared."
Throwing light upon their way with their bull's-eye lamps the two
officers, preceded by Dick, ascended the stairs to the office. No
person was there, nor in the bedroom. They went through all the rooms
in the upper part of the house, with the same result. Lambert's
experienced eye sought diligently for some sign of the presence of the
men Dick had spoken of, but without success.
"A trumped-up story," said Applebee aside to him, "but _I_ knew that
all along."
Lambert made no reply, but turned to Dick, "Anywhere else, Mr.
Remington?"
"The bottom of the house," replied Dick. Hope was dying within him. He
knew that he would be searched at the police station, and that, in
addition to other incriminating evidence, there would be found in his
pocket the last words written by Samuel Boyd, the production of which
would be fatal to Reginald. "Fool!" he thought. "Why have I kept it
about me? Why did I not destroy it?"
"Is there a cellar?" asked Lambert.
"Yes."
"I draw the line at cellars," objected Applebee.
"We will go there," said Lambert curtly, and the constable was
compelled to accompany them.
"There is a trap door leading to the cellar," said Dick, hopelessly,
when they reached the kitchen, for he saw that it had not been
disturbed since he had last lifted it himself. Lambert raised it, and
let himself down; ascending, he shook the dust from his clothes.
"A regular rat hole," he said. "There's no one there."
"Nor anywhere else," said Applebee, sulkily. "We're only wasting time.
Let's get to the station."
Caught, as it were, in a trap of his own preparing, Dick conveyed to
Lambert, in one of those secret glances which to an intelligent mind
are as good as speech, an entreaty for a private word.
"Remain outside a minute, Applebee," said Lambert, as they stood in
the passage leading to the street door. "There's something I wish to
ask Mr. Remington."
Applebee would have refused if he dared, but Lambert's standing in the
force was too high, and the part he had played in the mystery too
conspicuous, for him to venture opposition, so, with a dissatisfied
mind and a discontented face, he walked slowly forward, and waited in
the Square by the street door.
"This is a bad business, Dick," said Lambert, becoming familiar. His
kind tone brought tears into the young man's eyes.
"It is even worse than it appears," said Dick, "as you will discover
when we reach the station. You might take the handcuffs off, Mr.
Lambert. I'll go quietly." Lambert instantly released him. "Thank you.
Handle that cane gently, and carry it upright, if you don't care to
entrust me with it. You will know why soon. It is worth more than its
weight in gold. Do you think I have been lying?" Lambert stroked his
chin. "It is an unfair question, perhaps. I'll answer it myself. As I
hope for mercy from our heavenly Judge I have spoken the truth."
"Who were the men you left in the office? Don't say unless you like,
and don't speak one word that will tell against yourself. Understand
me--I sha'n't use anything to your disadvantage unless I have the best
of reasons for it. And don't _mis_understand me. I intend to do my
duty without regard to consequences. After all, the proper course is
silence."
"I _must_ speak. I don't know for certain who the men were. You see my
dress and the mask I dropped. I had it made in Covent Garden, and
partly helped to make it myself. I have been in this house since
Friday night last, and have sat in that Chinaman's chair whenever I
heard a sound outside the room, made up to resemble him. I acted
another part, too--I could smile at it if it wasn't for what I see
before me. There's new misery in store for those I love best in the
world, and it is I who will bring it home to them."
"Be a man, Dick, be a man."
"It is because I _am_ a man that I feel it as I do. I have been
working to save them, and as likely as not I have brought destruction
upon them. I waited for my chance in this house, and to-night it came;
and it has been spoilt at the last moment by a----"
"By a man who was doing his duty," said Lambert, persuasively. "I am
sure that is what you were going to say. Did you not see the men?"
"I could not. They were at the back of the hooded chair all the time,
and of course I didn't dare to turn my head, or they'd have stuck a
knife in me. Do you think I'm clever enough to have invented the
story?" he asked pathetically.
"I think you are clever enough to invent anything," replied Lambert.
He had great admiration for the young fellow, and great sympathy with
him; notwithstanding which he would not commit himself. "Be quick.
I've no time to listen to a long story; Applebee will be getting
impatient. Didn't you hear their voices?"
"I could not distinguish them. They spoke in whispers, and I only
caught a word here and there. But I suspect--I suspect----"
"Yes?"
"I more than suspect. I believe them to be Dr. Pye and the wretch
Vinsen, who is no doctor, but a money-lender named Ezra Lynn, in
league with that scoundrel of a juryman, Rawdon."
"I know all about Ezra Lynn and Rawdon. How did the men you suspect
get out of the house?"
"I cannot tell. There is some awful mystery yet to be brought to
light. _I_ hoped to do it, but now I shall be deprived of my
liberty----" He groaned, and clasped his hands convulsively. "Mr.
Lambert, our only hope is in you. You want to see justice done, don't
you?"
"I _will_ see it done," said Lambert, sternly.
"Don't be misled--don't be thrown off the right track! However strong
appearances may be against me, and against Reginald Boyd, I swear, by
all we hold most sacred, that we are both innocent!"
"Isn't it time we were moving, Mr. Lambert," called Applebee, from
without.
"In one moment, Applebee."
"Must I be taken to Bishop Street Station?" asked Dick.
"We daren't take you to another," replied Lambert, gravely. "It will
be a terrible shock to Inspector Robson."
"My poor uncle! I would give my right hand if it could be spared him.
What will he think--what will his dear wife and daughter think?" Dick
was suffering physically as well as mentally; he had not tasted food
for twenty hours.
Again Applebee's voice was heard from without.
"A last word," said Lambert, hurriedly. "My duty will be performed,
whatever happens; no consideration will be allowed to interfere with
its proper performance. There will be a search warrant. I don't ask
you if there is anything in your room in Pond's house that will tell
against you--don't speak; I will not listen--I don't ask you that. If
anything is found it will be brought forward without fear or favour,
and evidence given in a straightforward manner. But it may console you
to know, quite privately and confidentially"--Dick nodded--"that I am
working up a case against the men whose names you mentioned, and that
if I succeed you may not be the worse off for it. Give me your word
that you will keep this to yourself. Enough said. We're ready,
Applebee."
Pond and his fellow constable, reporting that no person had passed
through the Square, received instructions to keep watch, one in the
front, the other at the back of the house until they were relieved,
and to arrest all suspicious characters. Then Lambert, Applebee, and
Dick, walked to the Bishop Street Station.
Inspector Robson's face was worn and anxious, and when he saw Dick and
heard the charge it became haggard. He held up his hand, as if
imploring a short respite of silence, and they averted their eyes
until he spoke. Raising their heads, a dead white face confronted
them, its lips sternly compressed. He did not avoid their glance, but
it was noticeable that not for a single moment did his own rest upon
his nephew. "That is a man," thought Lambert, "who would go straight
to his death at the call of duty. It makes one proud to be an
Englishman." They were all very grave as, without faltering, he took
down the charge at the dictation of Constable Applebee.
"Before I am searched," said Dick, "I may be allowed to speak, I
suppose."
"I would not," advised Lambert.
"But I will, if I am not prevented by force. To be silent would be an
admission of guilt, and I am innocent. I wish all in this place to
hear my story, every word of which is true."
There was no one in the office except those immediately concerned,
Lambert, when they entered, having taken the precaution to order the
constable in attendance outside. In a voice shaken by emotion, but
weak from want of rest and food, Dick related as briefly as possible
the particulars of the part he had played in the mystery. He himself
emptied his pockets, and handed the document falsely incriminating
Reginald to his uncle.
"I kept these matters to myself," he said, "because I saw that there
was a strong case of circumstantial evidence against Mr. Reginald
Boyd, and that the knowledge I had gained would strengthen it. Had I
revealed at the inquest what I knew nothing could have prevented a
verdict of wilful murder against him being returned. Convinced of his
innocence my aim was to spare him and those he loved the agony which
this additional evidence would have caused them. I felt that time was
required to bring the guilt home to those who had committed the crime,
and to that task I bent all my energies. I may have erred, but I acted
for the best, as I believed, and as I still believe; for even now I do
not despair that the truth will be made known. As to what that hollow
cane contains I am as ignorant as yourselves, except that before I
snatched it from the hands of the men who were searching the room I
heard one of them say, 'The jewels! They are here--they are here!' If
I had been left at liberty I should have hunted the wretches down, but
now----"
He had spoken under the influence of intense excitement, but sleepless
nights, hunger, and the consciousness of the torture which his uncle
Rob was undergoing, overpowered him here, and with a pitiable
endeavour to continue, he broke completely down. A long deep sigh
escaped him, and he sank into the arms of Lambert, who had expected
and was waiting for the collapse. In this state he was conveyed to a
cell.
An examination of the contents of the cane made Applebee open his eyes
wide with astonishment. Lambert had in his pocket a list of the jewels
which Lady Wharton had given Samuel Boyd on the night of the murder,
and he ticked them off as Inspector Robson entered them on the charge
sheet.
"You will understand, Constable Applebee," said Lambert, when the
business was concluded, "that what passes in Inspector Robson's office
is not public property. The arrest is not to be spoken of outside. I
have heard it said in high quarters that there is too much babbling
and boasting among certain members of the force. If it continues
severe measures will be resorted to."
"I understand, Mr. Lambert," replied Applebee, with the air of an
injured being. Before they reached the police station he had been
inclined to regard himself as a hero, but his reception had not
pleased him, and he returned to his beat in a state of mind not
exactly amiable. He soon consoled himself, however. "It's jealousy,
that's what it is," he said to himself. "He's riled because he didn't
make the arrest, and can't claim the reward. If it belongs to anybody
it belongs to me, and if they try to do me out of it I'll go to law
with them. There's nothing that I know of in the regulations to keep
it from me. Anyway, there's the reward for the jewels, and it's me
that found them. Her ladyship wouldn't be mean enough to go from her
word." Thus did Applebee muse, and thus does Mammon poison many a
man's nature. For Applebee had always been an inoffensive, harmless,
kindly man, but the glare of gold had brought into play the baser part
of him.
Despite Lambert's warning, which had been given partly out of
consideration for the feelings of Inspector Robson, a whisper of the
arrest, and, more or less true, of the incidents connected with it,
did get about, and the excitement in the neighbourhood of Bishop
Street Police Station, where great numbers of people congregated in
the hope of catching sight of Dick, was no less than on the preceding
Friday, when proceedings against Reginald were commenced.