The inquest concluded, I walked back to the Hall with the Earl. The
latter was annoyed that the Home Secretary had not acted upon his
suggestion. He was young, and therefore impetuous sometimes, as a man
of his great wealth is perhaps apt to be. Since his marriage he had, I
noticed, become more quick-tempered, restless and rather less
good-humoured than in his buoyant bachelor days. The gay
irresponsibility of Marigold, his wife, worried him, I knew, and I
therefore looked upon his irritability as only natural.
"The whole thing's a confounded mystery, Woodhouse," he remarked after a
long silence as we went up the avenue, glad of the shade, for it was a
blazing day. "I haven't yet told that thick-headed fool Redway about
the fellow watching me in London. Do you think I ought?"
"No," I answered. "Let him find out for himself. He's got lots of
self-assurance, therefore he may, I think, be allowed to show his great
talent as a tracker of criminals."
"By Jove! you're right," he laughed. "If it were not for the fact that
I should be aiding him, I'd pay a smart private detective myself to look
into the matter. What's all that rot he says about finding a woman's
footprint there? I expect it's only where one of the maids from the
Hall has passed along. I've lots of times seen courting couples from
the village going along on the grass parallel with these trees, so as to
avoid being noticed by any of us." I did not remark that neither the
girls of Sibberton nor the maids at the Hall were in the habit of
wearing Louis XV heels. On the contrary, I entirely agreed with my
employer's remarks.
He wanted to see Frank Blew, his huntsman, therefore we struck across
the wide level park to the curious old building, the gate of which,
flanked by two circular towers, presented the appearance of an ancient
castle, and entered the celebrated kennels of the Stanchester Foxhounds.
Blew and his assistants were in the paved courts, wearing long white
smocks over their clothes and engaged in feeding the hounds as we
entered. The instant we passed the low wicket-gate a dozen of them were
pawing us, while the Earl, knowing each of the pack by name, cried--
"Down Jason! Down Jerry! Down Bound-away." And each addressed by name
obediently returned to his companions.
"I've decided the date, Blew," the Earl said. "We begin cubbing three
weeks on Monday, so you'll have everything ready."
"Yes, m'lord."
"We'll commence in the covers around the park, as usual, you know. I
shall fix the first meet at Spring Wood, at five. Her ladyship will be
back, and both she and Lady Lolita intend cubbing this season."
"Glad to hear that, m'lord. Last season all the Hunt regretted that the
Countess came out so very little."
"Well, let's hope we kill as many cubs as we did last back-end. I wish
all of you the best of good luck."
"Thank you, m'lord; we shall all of us do our best, I assure you." And
the sharp-nosed, thin-faced, thin-legged huntsman, one of the "cracks"
of England, touched his cap to his master to whom he had always been
devoted ever since the days when he was only a stable "helper" and young
Lord Sibberton used to ride to the meets on his pony.
There is still among hunting-men in England, both master and servant, a
genuine _camaraderie_ that exists in no other sport. In the
hunting-field the Master is supreme to control and direct; and after
that millionaire and farmer, countess and vicar's daughter, squire and
horse-breaker are all on equality, all keen upon the running down of the
crafty marauder of the hen-roost.
Therefore it was not really surprising that Blew was the Earl's adviser
in all connected with the pack and with the hunt, and that in his
absence at San Remo in the latter part of the winter season, or in
London, he left the hounds for Frank Blew to hunt, and surely a better
huntsman there was not in all the shires. After leaving Sibberton he
had graduated in the Belvoir, and the Quorn kennels, and had returned to
the old Earl's service as kennel-huntsman and subsequently as huntsman.
Some conversation followed regarding the condition of the puppies, the
bad epidemic of distemper, and the consequent fatality among them; the
naming of some fresh puppies which were to be put out to "walk" with
farmers on the estate, and then, with Blew accompanying us to the gate
and raising his cap, we struck away across the park, back again to the
Hall.
I lunched alone, and about four o'clock had finished the correspondence.
My brain was on fire. I wanted to see Lolita, for truth to tell I
wished to ascertain from her how much she knew regarding the dead man
who had worn her portrait in secret.
When I had met her in that draggled condition in the wood I had
purposely made no mention of the crime and its discovery, preferring to
allow her to make some mention of it herself. But she had made no
remark. Perhaps she, too, had been waiting for me to broach the
unwelcome subject. One thing was, however, plain: with the exception of
that unfortunate footprint of which Redway had taken a cast, she had
succeeded in very cleverly hiding the fact that she had been absent from
her room that night, or that she had had any connexion whatsoever with
the tragedy.
I thought of the necklet which I now had locked safely in my room down
in the village, and wondered how it possibly could have come into the
young man's possession a year ago. It surely had not been stolen,
otherwise she would have remarked upon her loss. Had she given it to
him? That was the question which constantly held me thinking and
wondering.
I awaited my opportunity to encounter her when tea was served in the
hall and, there being no visitors, she seated herself at the great
silver tray and handed me my cup. The Earl had ridden over to Laxton,
therefore we were alone, except for the irritating presence of Slater,
the grave-faced old butler.
She was dressed to go out walking, her brown tailor-made gown fitting
her like a glove and her smart straw _canotier_ to match gave her that
_chic_, almost Parisienne appearance which was so characteristic of her
well-bred style. She always dressed well, without any undue show of
laces and trimmings, but with that exquisite taste which betokens the
well-turned-out woman who is an aristocrat.
I stood before the great old fireplace with its enormous bright steel
dogs of an age bygone, and chatted to her, noting that in her face there
was no trace of anxiety, so well did she conceal her feelings before the
servants. Our conversation was rather strained, it was true, mostly
about a tennis tournament over at Drayton and regarding the decision of
her brother to cut down and grub-up Oxen Wood, a favourite cover which
he had suddenly taken it into his head to sweep away. Then, when tea
had finished, she announced her intention of walking across the park to
Stanion village and invited me to accompany her.
This I eagerly did, and a few moments later we were out in the bright
afternoon sunshine. Our way led first up the north avenue across the
deer park for half-a-mile, then along a narrow path through one of the
densest woods in the district, called Geddington Chase, and afterwards
skirted the river for some distance to Stanion mill, and thence by the
high road to the village.
"You have been to London," she exclaimed in a low voice as soon as we
were safely out of hearing from the Hall. "Well, did you recollect what
I told you?"
"I did, and I acted according to your directions," was my quiet answer.
"And what did the woman say?" she inquired, turning to me eagerly, her
face suddenly anxious and changed.
"She told me nothing. She refused to speak."
"Ah!" my idol gasped, and I saw the light of hope at once die from her
countenance. "As I expected! Just as I feared!"
"She says she cannot yet tell the truth," I hastened to explain. "But I
have made a compact with her."
"How?"
Then I explained how I had discovered the house in Britten Street
watched by the police; and how I had been able to give the Frenchwoman
warning.
"But," I said, "will you pardon me, Lolita, if I remark upon one most
peculiar circumstance?"
She started visibly and held her breath, for the tragedy had never been
mentioned between us, and it seemed as though she feared I would broach
it.
"You will recollect," I went on, "that when I met you early yesterday
morning you were accompanied by a man who--"
"Ah, you saw him, then!" she gasped, interrupting me.
"I did. And moreover I met that same man in Mademoiselle's company last
night."
"With her!" she cried. "Never! Why, he doesn't know her."
"I met them walking together on the Chelsea Embankment," I persisted in
a quiet tone, wondering the reason of her utter amazement.
"How? Where? Tell me all about it?" she urged quickly. "There's
mystery here."
In obedience to her wish I explained the circumstances just as I have
already recorded them; how I had first implored her to divulge her
secret, and then in order to threaten her, had called the police,
afterwards making a solemn compact with her and allowing them both to
escape.
She heard me in silence to the end, nervously pulling her veil beneath
her chin and twisting it to keep it tight. Then sighing, she remarked,
turning her wonderful eyes upon me--
"She is not the woman to keep any promise, Willoughby. It is just as I
feared! She is afraid to tell the truth lest she herself should suffer.
Her words only confirm that."