Was that Sybil's secret--the secret that she had been so very near
revealing to me? I recollected those strange words of hers, "You would
hate me!" Yes, her secret was a guilty one.
"Do?" I echoed at last in a low whisper, fearing Rainer might be
listening. "Why, we must make our own inquiries before those local
busybodies of police step in and bungle the affair. She must be saved--
don't you agree?"
"Yes. At all costs we must save her," he cried quickly. "Let's go out
and see who the fellow is."
"Not yet. Wait for half an hour or so, until they're all gone to bed.
The servants' hall is all in a flutter, it seems, and the maids will be
about frightened and whispering. If we are to get away unseen we must
slip out of yonder window. All the doors are closed now, and the dogs
are loose in the courtyard."
"You're right, old fellow. We must wait a bit," he agreed. "But what's
your private opinion of the affair?"
"I have none," was my blank reply. "Until I have some proof, I suspect
nobody."
"Quite so. Let's leave Tibbie entirely out of the question. Remember,
not a word to anyone of what I've told you, for I'm the principal
witness against her. Think, if they called me. My evidence would
condemn her!"
"I regard all that you've told me, Eric, as unsaid," I responded.
"Tibbie is my friend."
"But you don't think I've lied, do you?" he asked quickly, not grasping
my meaning.
"Of course not. Why should you? We know each other too well to make
false charges against our friends," I answered. "It is a mystery--a
complete mystery."
"Absolutely. I was struck dumb when I discovered her in the arms of the
fellow. I couldn't really believe my own eyes." Then, after a pause,
he asked in a lower tone, "What secret of hers did he hold, I wonder?"
"Ah! what indeed."
"To me, it is very evident that she met the fellow at that lonely spot
under compulsion. She may have reciprocated his affection at one time,
but her manner was inert and unresponsive. She allowed him to caress
her because she was in deadly fear--I'm absolutely certain of that."
"Then she didn't betray any love for him?"
"None whatever. In his reproaches, however, he reminded her of how she
had once loved him and allowed him to think that he might aspire to her
hand. He reproached her with cruelty and double-dealing, saying that
she had betrayed him to his enemies, and that now, in return, he would
reveal to the world her dark and terrible secret. This announcement
electrified her. Until that moment she apparently had no idea of her
peril, but instantly she saw that he held her future entirely in his
hands--and--well, that's all."
I stood upon the hearthrug, my hands deep in my trouser-pockets, my back
to the high, old stone overmantel that bore emblazoned the arms of the
Scarcliffs, and remained silent. What could I say? What could I think
of the woman who was in her room somewhere above in that great old
mansion--the woman who was, no doubt, still awake in terror of the
morrow?
The stable clock clanged out half-past two, and presently Eric stepped
on tip-toe to the door, opened it and looked down the great hall, dark,
gloomy and mysterious, with its stands of armour, its tattered banners
and its old carved furniture of centuries ago.
Across the hall he crept until lost in the darkness, and a few minutes
later returned carrying two hats, and saying that all was quiet in the
servants' hall, and that everybody had gone to bed.
Then we closed the door, took a wooden chair to the window, opened it,
and scrambled through, dropping noiselessly down upon the grass beyond.
We closed the old window behind us lest the night-watchman should
discover it open and raise an alarm, and then started off together
straight across the park, in the direction of the Long Avenue that led
away for a mile and a half down to the village.
The night was bright and starlit, but over the grass hung a heavy white
mist, especially in the hollows.
For a long time neither of us spoke, but presently, as we sped briskly
along, Eric said,--
"We must pretend that Rainer has aroused our curiosity, otherwise the
villagers will think our visit strange at this hour. Our first object
must be to establish the fellow's identity. At present we know his name
to be Charles--and that's all."
With this I agreed, and presently we arrived at the fine old Tudor
gate-house, and passed out from the park into the broad highway that ran
over Bow Hill to Chichester. Half a mile along the road we entered the
quaint, peaceful little village of East Marden, with its ancient church
and long row of comfortable cottages, now, however, in darkness. Five
miles from the railway, it still preserved its rural traditions. There
was no inn, and consequently little distress; the village retired early
and rose with the sun, a pleasant little place prosperous under the
proprietorship of the Scarcliffs.
Along the deserted little street we searched until we came to the
constable's cottage, in the window of which a light was burning, and
knocking at the door it was opened by Mr Booth, as the villagers called
him, a big, round-faced officer in constabulary uniform.
"Oh! beg pardon, gentlemen!" he exclaimed, recognising us. "I thought
it were Dr Richards. They've telephoned from the house to call him.
He ought to be here by now."
"What's the matter, Booth? What has happened?" I asked, stepping into
his clean little parlour where his wife greeted us with a curtsey.
"Rainer came to us and said that somebody had been found dead, so we
came out to hear all about it."
"Yes, sir, that's right. John Harris found him some hours ago; but I
was out on my beat across at Elsted, and they 'ad to fetch me. I've
been up to Charlton Wood and seen 'im, but I've left 'im there till the
gov'nor comes. We've strict orders never to move a body without the
superintendent sees it first."
"But tell us all about it," I urged. "Who's the man, and what has
happened?"
"Well, John Harris was goin' 'is round as usual, when 'is dog found a
man lyin' just inside the wood--stone dead. Shot in the chest. The
sight, of course, gave 'im a fright, an' he comes down here quick and
informs my missis. She told him to keep it dark, as we didn't want the
whole village up there, an' sent him up to the house to telephone to
Midhurst to the divisional surgeon. Then they came out and found me."
"You don't recognise the dead man?" I asked with trepidation.
"No. 'E's a stranger--maybe a tramp."
"You haven't searched him?"
"Not yet. I'm waiting for the doctor and the gov'nor. I've telephoned
to him in Chichester, only 'e may be out on inspection-duty."
"And meanwhile the body is up in the wood? Is anybody there with it?"
"No, sir. We think it better to leave it there alone, otherwise the
news'll spread and they'll tread out whatever marks of a struggle there
maybe there." In an instant a serious thought occurred to me. Had the
dead man on him any letter of Sybil's or anything to connect her with
him?
"Well," I said a moment later in as unconcerned a tone as I could,
"we're interested to see who the poor fellow is. Therefore we'll walk
on up in the direction of the wood, and when Richards comes you'll
overtake us."
"Very well, gentlemen," was the constable's reply. "But you won't tell
anyone yet, will you? And you won't go into the wood and tread about?
If there's been murder committed, as there seems to have been, then we
must find the guilty party," he added seriously, this no doubt being the
first really grave case he had ever had in all his eighteen years'
career.
"Of course not," answered Eric. "We shall wait for you, as we don't
know where the body is."
"Ah! I never thought o' that," was Booth's reply. "All right,
gentlemen, I'll be after you as soon as the doctor comes. He'll drive
me on in his trap." And we said good-night to Mrs Booth, a rather
frail, hard-working little woman, and went once more out into the broad
high road.
"We must act quickly. Come, hurry along," I exclaimed, as soon as we
were beyond the village. "We haven't a second to spare."
"Why?" asked Domville in some surprise.
"Didn't you say that we must save Tibbie?" I asked. "Can't you see her
serious peril? The fellow may have on him some letter or something that
may incriminate her. We must get there and search him before Booth
brings the doctor. What fortune that the body has been left
unattended."
"But is it?" Eric queried. "Don't you think that Harris has spread the
news among the other keepers and one or other of them are lurking near
out of curiosity? Wouldn't it be infernally awkward for us if we were
discovered rifling the dead man's pockets?"
"We must risk everything--for Tibbie's sake--for the sake of the
family," I declared decisively, and impelled by my words he hurried
along at my side.
"You have given it as your opinion that they were once lovers," I
continued. "Therefore, if he had come there to blackmail her, what more
natural than that he should carry with him something by which to impress
her with his power over her? At all costs, therefore, we must try and
satisfy ourselves that there is nothing to incriminate her."
"Ah! my dear Wilfrid," he sighed. "It is really terrible--too
terrible."
"This is not the moment to discuss the affair. We must act," I urged,
and together we got over a gate and turned into a grass field which was
a shorter cut to the wood.
"This way," my friend directed. "The spot is up at that corner,"
pointing away up the hill, where the wood loomed darkly against the sky.
Truth to tell, I shared Eric's fear that Harris or one of his sons might
be lurking in the neighbourhood, yet I said nothing. My only thought
was for the woman who had been my friend, my playmate, the dainty love
of my early youth. She might be all that her enemies said of her, yet
for her mother's sake, for Jack's sake, I meant--if possible--to save
her.
Keeping in the shadow of the hedgerows and walls, I allowed my companion
to direct my footsteps. With his long practice in those boundless
forests of eternal night in Equatorial Africa, he had learnt how to
creep along with scarce a sound. He motioned to me to be silent, and
presently we crossed the big turnip field and entered the thicket at the
point where he had entered it that afternoon.
"This will destroy my track," he whispered. "Tread always on your
toes."
His example I followed, malting my way through the brambles and
undergrowth until, of a sudden, we came out into a small open space
beneath some big trees on the edge of the wood itself, and there upon
the ground I saw something lying. In the darkness I could not
distinguish what it was, but Eric advanced slowly, and bending, turned
to me, saying in a low whisper,--
"Here it is. But how can we search him without a light? If we strike a
match it can be seen by anyone coming up the hill."
I knelt at his side and ran my hands over the cold corpse. Ah! it was a
gruesome moment. My eager fingers unbuttoned his jacket that was wet
and clammy with blood, and quickly I put my fingers in his inner pocket.
Yes! there were papers there. Quick as thought I thrust them into my
own pocket, and then in the darkness searched his clothes thoroughly.
In his hip-pocket I felt a small leather wallet or card-case, and in his
left-hand trousers pocket was a pen-knife, both of which I secured;
while Eric, making another search of his waistcoat, discovered an inner
pocket which contained some paper or other, which he handed to me.
To search a dead man in the darkness is not the easiest thing, and even
though we had gone through his pockets, yet I was not satisfied.
My friend urged me to creep away and go back to meet Booth, but I
hesitated. I wanted a light in order to satisfy myself thoroughly that
I had overlooked nothing, and I told him so.
In a moment he threw off his jacket, and covering the prostrate figure
with it, said, "Strike a match underneath. This will hide the light."
I did so, and the fickle flame from the wax vesta fell upon the hard
white face, a face that in death bore a wild, desperate look that was
truly horrifying.
The pockets were, however, my chief concern, and, striking match after
match, I made a methodical examination, finding a screwed-up piece of
paper, the receipt for a registered letter. In feeling within his vest
my hand touched something hard beneath his shirt.
I felt again. Yes, there was something next his skin. Therefore I
carefully opened his saturated shirt, and placing my hand within, drew
out something about the size of a penny, a kind of medallion that he
wore suspended around his neck by a fine gold chain.
A quick twist broke the latter, and I secured both medallion and chain.
"Make haste!" cried my companion in quick alarm. "Lights are coming up
the hill! It's Richards's dog-cart with Booth. Let's fly. We must get
back to the road, or they may suspect."
"A moment!" I cried. "Let me adjust his clothes," and with eager,
nervous fingers I re-buttoned the dead man's clothing, and carefully
rearranged the body as we had found it.
Those moments were exciting ones, for already the trap was coming on at
a brisk pace, the lights shining clear along the road, and we yet had
two large fields to cross before reaching the point where it was
necessary to meet the doctor and constable.
Eric slipped on his coat, and we scrambled through the undergrowth by
the way we had come, and then under the shadow of the wall, tore on as
quickly as our legs would carry us.
Just, however, as we got out of the turnip field, my companion turned to
me, and gasped,--
"Look there--to the left! There's someone over in that clump of bushes
there. By Heaven! old fellow, we've been seen!"
"Are you sure?" I cried hoarsely, glancing at the same moment in the
direction he had indicated.
"Certain. I saw the figure draw back as we passed. My eyes don't
deceive me in the dark--I'm used to it."
"Then we're betrayed!" I said breathlessly.
"Yes. That's quite certain," was his hard response. "We've been
watched--just as I feared."