The inquest took place on the following morning. It was extraordinarily
unlike the inquests as pictured in sensational fiction. It satisfied
even George Lomax in its rigid suppression of all interesting details.
Superintendent Battle and the Coroner, working together with the
support of the Chief Constable, had reduced the proceedings to the
lowest level of boredom.
Immediately after the inquest, Anthony took an unostentatious departure.
His departure was the one bright spot in the day for Bill Eversleigh.
George Lomax, obsessed with the fear that something damaging to his
Department might leak out, had been exceedingly trying. Miss Oscar and
Bill had been in constant attendance. Everything useful and interesting
had been done by Miss Oscar. Bill’s part had been to run to and fro
with countless messages, to decode telegrams, and to listen by the hour
to George repeating himself.
It was a completely exhausted young man who retired to bed on Saturday
night. He had had practically no chance to talk to Virginia all
day, owing to George’s exactions, and he felt injured and ill-used.
Thank goodness, that Colonial fellow had taken himself off. He had
monopolized far too much of Virginia’s society anyway. And of course
if George Lomax went on making an ass of himself like this—— His
mind seething with resentment, Bill fell asleep. And, in dreams, came
consolation. For he dreamt of Virginia.
It was an heroic dream, a dream of burning timbers in which he played
the part of the gallant rescuer. He brought down Virginia from the
topmost story in his arms. She was unconscious. He laid her on the
grass. Then he went off to find a packet of sandwiches. It was most
important that he should find that packet of sandwiches. George had it,
but instead of giving it up to Bill, he began to dictate telegrams.
They were now in the vestry of a church, and any minute Virginia might
arrive to be married to him. Horror! He was wearing pyjamas. He must
get home at once and find his proper clothes. He rushed out to the
car. The car would not start. No petrol in the tank! He was getting
desperate. And then a big General ’bus drew up and Virginia got out
of it on the arm of the bald headed Baron. She was deliciously cool,
and exquisitely dressed in grey. She came over to him and shook him by
the shoulders playfully. “Bill,” she said. “Oh, Bill.” She shook him
harder. “Bill,” she said. “Wake up. Oh, do wake up!”
Very dazed, Bill woke up. He was in his bedroom at Chimneys. But part
of the dream was with him still. Virginia was leaning over him, and was
repeating the same words with variations.
“Wake up, Bill. Oh, do wake up. Bill.”
“Hullo!” said Bill, sitting up in bed. “What’s the matter?”
Virginia gave a sigh of relief.
“Thank goodness. I thought you’d never wake up. I’ve been shaking you
and shaking you. Are you properly awake now?”
“I think so,” said Bill doubtfully.
“You great lump,” said Virginia. “The trouble I’ve had! My arms are
aching.”
“These insults are uncalled for,” said Bill, with dignity. “Let me say,
Virginia, that I consider your conduct most unbecoming. Not at all that
of a pure young widow.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Bill. Things are happening.”
“What kind of things?”
“Queer things. In the Council Chamber. I thought I heard a door bang
somewhere, and I came down to see. And then saw a light in the Council
Chamber. I crept along the passage, and peeped through the crack of the
door. I couldn’t see much, but what I could see was so extraordinary
that I felt I must see more. And then, all of a sudden, I felt that I
should like a nice, big, strong man with me. And you were the nicest
and biggest and strongest man I could think of, so I came in and tried
to wake you up quietly. But I’ve been ages doing it.”
“I see,” said Bill. “And what do you want me to do now? Get up and
tackle the burglars?”
Virginia wrinkled her brows.
“I’m not sure that they are burglars. Bill, it’s very queer—— But
don’t let’s waste time talking. Get up.”
Bill slipped obediently out of bed.
“Wait while I don a pair of boots—the big ones with nails in them.
However big and strong I am, I’m not going to tackle hardened criminals
with bare feet.”
“I like your pyjamas, Bill,” said Virginia dreamily. “Brightness
without vulgarity.”
“While we’re on the subject,” remarked Bill, reaching for his second
boot, “I like that thingummybob of yours. It’s a pretty shade of green.
What do you call it? It’s not just a dressing-gown, is it?”
“It’s a _négligé_” said Virginia. “I’m glad you’ve led such a pure
life, Bill.”
“I haven’t,” said Bill indignantly.
“You’ve just betrayed the fact. You’re very nice, Bill, and I like you.
I dare say that to-morrow morning—say about ten o’clock, a good safe
hour for not unduly exciting the emotions—I might even kiss you.”
“I always think these things are best carried out on the spur of the
moment,” suggested Bill.
“We’ve other fish to fry,” said Virginia. “If you don’t want to put on
a gas mask and a shirt of chain mail, shall we start?”
“I’m ready,” said Bill.
He wriggled into a lurid silk dressing-gown, and picked up a poker.
“The orthodox weapon,” he observed.
“Come on,” said Virginia, “and don’t make a noise.”
They crept out of the room and along the corridor, and then down the
wide double staircase. Virginia frowned as they reached the bottom of
it.
“Those boots of yours aren’t exactly domes of silence, are they, Bill?”
“Nails will be nails,” said Bill. “I’m doing my best.”
“You’ll have to take them off,” said Virginia firmly.
Bill groaned.
“You can carry them in your hand. I want to see if you can make out
what’s going on in the Council Chamber. Bill, it’s awfully mysterious.
Why should burglars take a man in armour to pieces?”
“Well, I suppose they can’t take him away whole very well. They
disarticulate him, and pack him neatly.”
Virginia shook her head, dissatisfied.
“What should they want to steal a mouldy old suit of armour for? Why,
Chimneys is full of treasures that are much easier to take away.”
Bill shook his head.
“How many of them are there?” he asked, taking a firmer grip of his
poker.
“I couldn’t see properly. You know what a keyhole is. And they only had
a flashlight.”
“I expect they’ve gone by now,” said Bill hopefully.
He sat down on the bottom stair and drew off his boots. Then, holding
them in his hand, he crept along the passage that led to the Council
Chamber, Virginia close behind him. They halted outside the massive oak
door. All was silent within, but suddenly Virginia pressed his arm, and
he nodded. A bright light had shown for a minute through the keyhole.
Bill went down on his knees, and applied his eye to the orifice. What
he saw was confusing in the extreme. The scene of the drama that was
being enacted inside was evidently just to the left, out of his line
of vision. A subdued chink every now and then seemed to point to the
fact that the invaders were still dealing with the figure in armour.
There were two of these, Bill remembered. They stood together by the
wall just under the Holbein portrait. The light of the electric torch
was evidently being directed upon the operations in progress. It
left the rest of the room nearly in darkness. Once a figure flitted
across Bill’s line of vision, but there was not sufficient light to
distinguish anything about it. It might have been that of a man or a
woman. In a minute or two it flitted back again and then the subdued
chinking sounded again. Presently there came a new sound, a faint
tap-tap as of knuckles on wood.
Bill sat back on his heels suddenly.
“What is it?” whispered Virginia.
“Nothing. It’s no good going on like this. We can’t see anything, and
we can’t guess what they’re up to. I must go in and tackle them.”
He drew on his boots and stood up.
“Now, Virginia, listen to me. We’ll open the door as softly as
possible. You know where the switch of the electric light is?”
“Yes, just by the door.”
“I don’t think there are more than two of them. There may be only one.
I want to get well into the room. Then, when I say ‘Go’ I want you to
switch on the lights. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.”
“And don’t scream or faint or anything. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“My hero!” murmured Virginia.
Bill peered at her suspiciously through the darkness. He heard a faint
sound which might have been either a sob or a laugh. Then he grasped
the poker firmly and rose to his feet. He felt that he was fully alive
to the situation.
Very softly he turned the handle of the door. It yielded and swung
gently inwards. Bill felt Virginia close beside him. Together they
moved noiselessly into the room.
At the farther end of the room, the torch was playing upon the Holbein
picture. Silhouetted against it was the figure of a man, standing on a
chair and gently tapping on the panelling! His back, of course, was to
them, and he merely loomed up as a monstrous shadow.
What more they might have seen cannot be told, for at that moment
Bill’s nails squeaked upon the parquet floor. The man swung round,
directing the powerful torch full upon them and almost dazzling them
with the sudden glare.
Bill did not hesitate.
“Go,” he roared to Virginia, and sprang for his man, as she obediently
pressed down the switch of the electric lights.
The big chandelier should have been flooded with light; but, instead,
all that happened was the click of the switch. The room remained in
darkness.
Virginia heard Bill curse freely. The next minute the air was filled
with panting, scuffling sounds. The torch had fallen to the ground and
extinguished itself in the fall. There was the sound of a desperate
struggle going on in the darkness, but as to who was getting the better
of it, and indeed as to who was taking part in it, Virginia had no
idea. Had there been anyone else in the room besides the man who was
tapping the panelling? There might have been. Their glimpse had been
only a momentary one.
Virginia felt paralysed. She hardly knew what to do. She dared not try
and join in the struggle. To do so might hamper and not aid Bill. Her
one idea was to stay in the doorway, so that anyone trying to escape
should not leave the room that way. At the same time, she disobeyed
Bill’s express instructions and screamed loudly and repeatedly for help.
She heard doors opening upstairs, and a sudden gleam of light from the
hall and the big staircase. If only Bill could hold his man until help
came.
But at that minute there was a final terrific upheaval. They must have
crashed into one of the figures in armour, for it fell to the ground
with a deafening noise. Virginia saw dimly a figure springing for the
window, and at the same time heard Bill cursing and disengaging himself
from fragments of armour.
For the first time, she left her post, and rushed wildly for the figure
at the window. But the window was already unlatched. The intruder had
no need to stop and fumble for it. He sprang out and raced away down
the terrace and round the corner of the house. Virginia raced after
him. She was young and athletic, and she turned the corner of the
terrace not many seconds after her quarry.
But there she ran headlong into the arms of a man who was emerging from
a small side door. It was Mr. Hiram P. Fish.
“Gee! It’s a lady,” he exclaimed. “Why, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Revel.
I took you for one of the thugs fleeing from justice.”
“He’s just passed this way,” cried Virginia breathlessly. “Can’t we
catch him?”
But, even as she spoke, she knew it was too late. The man must have
gained the park by now, and it was a dark night with no moon. She
retraced her steps to the Council Chamber, Mr. Fish by her side,
discoursing in a soothing monotone upon the habits of burglars in
general, of which he seemed to have a wide experience.
Lord Caterham, Bundle, and various frightened servants were standing in
the doorway of the Council Chamber.
“What the devil’s the matter?” asked Bundle. “Is it burglars? What are
you and Mr. Fish doing, Virginia? Taking a midnight stroll?”
Virginia explained the events of the evening.
“How frightfully exciting,” commented Bundle. “You don’t usually get
a murder and a burglary crowded into one week-end. What’s the matter
with the lights in here? They’re all right everywhere else.”
That mystery was soon explained. The bulbs had simply been removed
and laid in a row against the wall. Mounted on a pair of steps, the
dignified Tredwell, dignified even in undress, restored illumination to
the stricken apartment.
“If I am not mistaken,” said Lord Caterham in his sad voice as he
looked around him, “this room has recently been the centre of somewhat
violent activity.”
There was some justice in the remark. Everything that could have
been knocked over had been knocked over. The floor was littered with
splintered chairs, broken china, and fragments of armour.
“How many of them were there?” asked Bundle. “It seems to have been a
desperate fight.”
“Only one, I think,” said Virginia. But, even as she spoke, she
hesitated a little. Certainly only one person—a man—had passed out
through the window. But as she had rushed after him, she had had a
vague impression of a rustle somewhere close at hand. If so, the second
occupant of the room could have escaped through the door. Perhaps,
though, the rustle had been an effect of her own imagination.
Bill appeared suddenly at the window. He was out of breath and panting
hard.
“Damn the fellow!” he exclaimed wrathfully. “He’s escaped. I’ve been
hunting all over the place. Not a sign of him.”
“Cheer up, Bill,” said Virginia, “better luck next time.”
“Well,” said Lord Caterham, “what do you think we’d better do now? Go
back to bed? I can’t get hold of Badgworthy at this time of night.
Tredwell, you know the sort of thing that’s necessary. Just see to it,
will you?”
“Very good, my lord.”
With a sigh of relief, Lord Caterham prepared to retreat.
“That beggar, Isaacstein, sleeps soundly,” he remarked, with a touch of
envy. “You’d have thought all this row would have brought him down.” He
looked across at Mr. Fish. “You found time to dress, I see,” he added.
“I flung on a few articles of clothing, yes,” admitted the American.
“Very sensible of you,” said Lord Caterham. “Damned chilly things,
pyjamas.”
He yawned. In a rather depressed mood, the house party retired to bed.
18