"The situation is, for me, as perilous as it ever was. I am now
convinced that what you have said regarding Marigold is right--she
actually is my enemy, and yet I have foolishly taken her into my
confidence!"
"But you are still hopeful?" I asked anxiously. "This man Logan has
surely not refused to stand your friend?"
"He refuses to tell me certain facts which, if revealed, would place me
in a position of safety," she responded blankly.
"But he must be compelled!" I cried. "I will compel him."
"Ah! you cannot," she cried despairingly. "If you approach him, you
will upset everything. He must not know of your visit to me. If he did
it would be fatal--fatal."
I held my breath, for had I not foolishly betrayed my presence to him on
the previous night? And had he not cleverly tricked me? I hesitated
whether to tell my love the bitter truth of my injudicious act, but at
last resolved to do so, and explained the incident briefly, just as I
have related it to you.
"Ah?" she exclaimed. "Then I fear that all I have arranged with him
will be of no avail. He will now believe that I intend to play him
false. My only hope now lies in Richard Keene."
"Then I will return to him and act as you wish," I said.
She stood thoughtfully looking out of the window for a long time. At
last she said--
"I think it best, after all, to return to Sibberton. My aunt had a
letter from George this morning asking her to join the house-party at
once, and she seems anxious to do this and go to Lord Penarth's
afterwards."
"Very well," I said eagerly; "let us all return together." I felt
somehow that she would be safer at home beneath my protection than
wandering about in hotels exposed to the perils which her unscrupulous
enemies were placing before her.
And so it happened that on that same night we joined the party assembled
in the drawing-room at Sibberton just before dinner, and there, in front
of them all, the young Earl introduced Keene and Lolita, believing them
to be unacquainted.
At the instant the introduction was made I chanced to glance around, and
there saw Marigold standing in the doorway, her face pale as death. She
had been out, and being unaware of Lolita's return was, I saw, amazed
and filled with apprehension, while Keene on his part bowed over my
love's hand with a distant respect as though they were perfect
strangers.
Dinner was, as usual, a long function, served with that stateliness and
ceremony that characterised everything in the Stanchester household.
George made a point of preserving punctiliously all the ancient
traditions of his noble house, even to the ceremony, and, after the
port, of passing round the snuff to the men in the great old silver box
that had been a present of King James the Second to the Earl of his
time.
I saw that Marigold was ill at ease at Lolita's return. She had
whispered something to her as they went in to dinner, but what it was I
knew not. Keene, on the other hand, preserved an utter disregard of
what was in progress, except that once I detected a meaning glance cast
at the brilliant hostess upon whose throat scintillated the wonderful
Stanchester diamonds.
Afterwards, in order to learn something more, I played billiards with
him. We were alone in the room, for bridge and music were attracting
the others. He was, I found, an excellent player, yet not in good
practice.
"You know," he said apologetically, "I get so little billiards, living
as I do mostly in the forest. I played a good deal in town a few years
ago, but nowadays rarely ever touch a cue."
I complimented him upon a break of eighteen he had that moment made,
whereupon he exclaimed suddenly--
"Oh, by the way! Lord Stanchester told me yesterday that it was you who
discovered that mysterious affair in the park here some time ago. Tell
me all about it. I'm always fond of mysteries."
He hid his dark-bearded face from me, occupying himself in chalking his
cue. But his demand told me that, as I expected, he had not recognised
me as Warr's visitor on the evening when, tired and dusty, he had
refreshed himself at the _Stanchester Arms_.
"I suppose you read all about it in the papers?" I said, not quite
understanding his motive.
"George showed me some of the accounts. Most extraordinary affair--
wasn't it? They don't even know the poor fellow's name, do they?"
"The police axe in ignorance of it as far as I know," was my response.
"But explain to me the exact position in which you found him," he urged,
leaving off playing, leaning with his back against the stone
mantelshelf, and drawing heavily at his cigar. "I take a keen interest
in such matters as this. Out after big game, we become almost like
detectives so necessary it is to follow clues and footprints."
"Well," I said, "I simply heard a cry in the darkness, and got Warr, the
publican from the village, to help me to search--and we found him."
"He was dead, of course--quite dead?" he asked eagerly, as though, it
seemed, in fear that the victim had still been conscious and had spoken.
"Quite," I replied, still much puzzled. He had himself invited me to
billiards, and it seemed for the purpose of obtaining from me the exact
details of the discovery. "He had been struck a cowardly blow in the
back which the doctors declared must have proved fatal at once."
"You heard his cry?" he said, looking me straight in the face. "It was
that which attracted you?"
"I heard _a_ cry," was my answer.
"Ah! Then you didn't recognise the voice?"
"How could I recognise the voice of a person unknown to me?" I asked.
"I mean that the cry was a man's?"
"No--a woman's."
"What?" he exclaimed, taking his cigar from his lips, and staring at me
with a hardness at the corners of his mouth. "Are you quite sure of
that? It isn't in the evidence I've read."
"I know it isn't," I said. "There are several things known to me that
are not in the depositions."
"And what are they?"
"Matters which concern only myself," I replied. "I'm endeavouring to
obtain a solution of the mystery. The police have failed, so I am
making independent inquiries on my own account."
His brows again contracted slightly, and I saw that what I said was to
him the reverse of welcome.
"And what have you discovered?" he asked with a dark look which struck
me as curious. "You have surely good scope for your efforts in such an
affair. Lord Stanchester is exceedingly anxious that the truth should
be revealed. He asked me my opinion--knowing my keen interest in
mysteries of all sorts."
"And what is your opinion?"
"Shall I tell you, Mr Woodhouse?" he asked with a mysterious smile,
bending earnestly towards me and lowering his voice. "Well, my own
opinion is that you yourself know more about it than any one."
"Me!" I cried, looking at the fellow. "You don't imply that I'm guilty
of the murder, do you?"
"Oh!--not at all--not at all?" he hastened to assure me. "I intended to
convey that you are in possession of certain facts unknown to the
police. Do you understand me?"
"Not exactly," I replied. "If you suggest that I know the dead man's
real name, then I admit it. His name was Wingfield--Hugh Wingfield."
"What!" he gasped, his sinister countenance turning pale, as he stood
aghast. "You know that! Who told you?"
"I found out for myself," I answered, looking him full in the face. "I
discovered it by the same means as I discovered other things--that the
dead man wore on his finger the portrait of Lady Lolita, and--"
"And what else?" he asked breathlessly. "Be frank with me as I will, in
a moment, be frank with you. Did you discover anything in his pockets--
any letter--or anything written in numbers--a cipher?"
"I did."
"Then show it to me," he urged quickly. "Let me see it."
"I shall do nothing of the sort!" was my firm response. "What is
written there is my own affair."
"Of course. But you can't read it without the key," he declared with a
defiant laugh.
"I desire no assistance," I said briefly.
"But if I mistake not, Mr Woodhouse, you entertain affection towards
Lady Lolita--and--well, your affection is reciprocated--at least so she
tells me," he added with a slight sneer, I thought.
"And what, pray, does that concern the paper found in the dead man's
pocket?" I inquired resentfully. "I know rather more of the affair
than you conjecture," I added. "And as you wish me to speak plainly I
may as well remark that I have certainly no confidence in the person who
is guest in this house under the name of Smeeton, and whose real name is
Richard Keene."
The man drew back with a start and stood glaring at me blankly,
open-mouthed, his eyes starting from his head.