There was no writing on the carefully-concealed scrap of paper. Only
five rows of numerals, written in a fine feminine hand and arranged in
the following manner:--
63 26 59 69 65 56 65 33 59 35 65 44
49 55 22 59 57 46 78 63 23 98 59 39
46 67 82 45 58 35 54 45 46 26 78 75
68 75 49 64 22 86 48 73 78 45 62 45
76 47 64 66 85 44 78 48 73 78 58 62
I turned the paper over, utterly puzzled. It was certainly some cipher,
but of a kind of which I knew nothing. Ciphers may of course be very
easily constructed and yet defy solution. This appeared to be one of
those. What hidden message it contained, I had no idea, save that it
was certain to be something of importance and that some other person was
in possession of the secret of the decipher, or its recipient would not
have concealed it where he did.
If I could only read it, a clue to the dead man's identity would no
doubt be revealed. But as I glanced at those puzzling rows of numerals
I felt that to endeavour to learn their secret was but a vain hope. I
had expected to find upon that scrap of paper some intelligible letter,
and was sorely disappointed at what I had discovered.
The further I pushed my inquiries, the more mysterious the affair seemed
to become. A dozen times I tried by ordinary methods to turn the
numbers into writing, but my calculations only resulted in an unmeaning
array of letters of the alphabet, a chaos quite unintelligible,
therefore I was at length compelled to abandon my efforts, and after
examining the ring and deciding that it was a copy of one of those old
Etruscan rings that I had seen in the British Museum, I reluctantly went
upstairs to snatch an hour's sleep before the dawn.
My brain was awhirl. Following so quickly the strange declarations of
Lolita had come this startling tragedy with all its mysterious and
suspicious features. As I lay awake, listening to the solemn striking
of the hour from the old church tower which told me that daylight was
not far off, I recollected that Lolita had probably recognised the
shabby stranger in the tap-room of the _Stanchester Arms_ as she drove
past. I remembered how he had held back, as though fearing recognition,
and also that, as the carriage went by, her head had been half-turned in
our direction. If she had detected his presence she had certainly made
no sign, yet it must have been that discovery that had caused her to
speak so strangely and to seek my aid in the manner she had done.
Warr still had the sealed letter in his possession, therefore the only
way she could have known of the return of the bluff fellow who called
himself Richard Keene was by the discovery made by herself.
I remembered her fierce desperation and her trembling fear; how cold her
hands had been, and how wild that look in her beautiful eyes--a hunted
look such as I had never before seen in the eyes of either man or woman.
Then suddenly I recollected what damning evidence might remain on that
soft clay in the hollow where the body had been found. The detectives
would certainly be able to establish her presence there! I felt that at
all risks I must prevent that. I had promised to help her, and although
there were dark suspicions within my heart I intended to act loyally as
a man should towards the woman he honestly loves. I therefore set my
alarm to awaken me in an hour, and just as the grey light was breaking
through the clouds eastward over Monk's Wood, I rose, dressed myself,
and concealing a small garden trowel in my pocket set forth for the spot
before any of the villagers were astir.
The morning air was keen and fresh as I hurried up the avenue and with
some trepidation descended into the hollow, fearing lest the report had
already been spread in the village and that any of the curious yokels
might notice my presence there.
But I was alone, and therefore breathed more freely.
Over an area of fifteen yards or so the grass was beaten down here and
there, and in the cold grey light became revealed the dark stain where
the victim had fallen--the stain of his life blood.
I searched around among the grass and over the soft boggy places bare of
herbage, but found no footmarks nor any trace except that of the
downtrodden grass where the struggle had evidently taken place and where
the unknown man had apparently fought desperately for his life. After
twenty minutes or so, fearing lest some labourers early astir might come
to the spot before going to work, I was about to leave when, of a
sudden, in a place where no grass grew upon the clay, I saw something
that held me rigid.
In the soft earth was the plain imprint of the small sole of a woman's
shoe, with a Louis XV heel!
Lolita wore high heels of exactly that character, and took three's in
shoes. Was it possible that the footprint was hers?
As I looked I saw others, both of a person advancing and receding. One
was ill-defined, where she had apparently slipped upon the clay. But
all of them I stamped out--all, indeed, that I could find. Yet was it
possible, I wondered, to efface every one?
If one single one remained, it might be sufficient to throw suspicion
upon her.
While engaged in this, something white caught my eye lying upon the
grass about ten yards distant. I picked it up and found it to be a
piece of white fur about an inch square that had evidently been torn
bodily out of a boa or cape--the same fur that had been found between
the dead man's fingers.
This I placed carefully in my cigarette-case and continued my work of
effacing the damning footprints. There were other marks, of men's
boots, but whether those of the dead man or of our own I could not
decide, so I left them as evidence for the police to investigate.
My eyes were everywhere to try and discover the weapon with which the
foul deed had been committed, for the assassin, I thought, might have
cast it away, but my search was in vain. It had disappeared.
Fully twenty distinct marks of those small well-shod feet I effaced by
stamping upon them or scraping the surface with the trowel, and was
preparing to return and keep the appointment with the doctor when of a
sudden I saw, lying close behind the trunk of the giant oak, a
half-smoked cigarette, which on taking up I found to be of the same
brand as those found in the dead man's pocket. He had therefore kept a
tryst at that spot, and had smoked calmly and unsuspiciously in order to
while away the time.
Of men's footprints in the soft ground there were a quantity, but then I
remembered how all four of us had tramped about there, in addition to
the victim himself, and I was not sufficiently expert in tracking to be
able to distinguish one man's tread from another's.
It was already daylight and in the distance I could hear the sound of a
reaping machine in one of the fields beyond the park, therefore I was
compelled to escape in order that my premature examination should remain
secret. So I struck straight across the level sward to the London road,
which ran beyond the park boundary, in preference to passing straight
down the avenue at risk of meeting any of the labourers.
News of the tragedy I knew had not yet reached the Hall, otherwise the
servants would have been out to see the spot, therefore I believed
myself quite safe from detection until, just as I scaled the old stone
wall and dropped into the broad white high road with its long line of
telegraph lines, I encountered the innkeeper Warr who, mounted on his
bicycle, was riding towards me.
He had approached noiselessly and we were mutually surprised to meet
each other in such circumstances.
"Halloa!" he cried, dismounting. "You've been out again very early--
eh?"
"I've been back to the spot to see if I could find any traces of the
dead man's assailant," was my reply. "I thought I'd go back early,
before the crowd trod over the place. Don't say anything, or Knight may
consider that I've taken his duty out of his hands."
"Ah, a very good idea, sir," was the man's approving response. "I
thought of doing so myself, only they're beginning to cut my bit o'
wheat in the mill-field this morning and I have to go into Thrapston
about the machine. I'll be back in an hour."